Chapter 1
919words
The following materials were discovered near Clonakility village in Ireland in December 1977. Three researchers: Emily Thompson, Declan O'Connor, and Mark Johnson are deceased. They had originally planned a two-week field investigation to study the widely reported Banshee phenomena in the area.
The investigation team's final data upload content is as follows:
[File Number: Supernatural Entity Research Report #B-137]
Banshee (Gaelic: bean sídhe) is an anomalous entity frequently appearing in Irish regions. According to acoustic recording analysis, its vocalization frequency ranges from 18Hz to far beyond the upper limits of human hearing, and possesses unique vocal signature characteristics that cannot be replicated with modern technology.
Eyewitness reports indicate that the entity can instantly shift between three different forms: a silver-haired young woman, a middle-aged woman, and an elderly woman. All forms exhibit characteristics that defy natural laws - hair that doesn't move in wind, clothing that hangs unnaturally still even in gales.
WARNING: If you hear a woman's wail, leave the area immediately. Any attempt to record or capture this entity will result in [DATA LOST].
Due to the death of the relevant researcher, the authenticity of this document cannot be verified.
——Department of Folklore Studies, University College Cork
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[Recording time: October 15, 1977, 14:30]
I wave awkwardly at the camera, trying to look confident. God, I hate this. As someone who'd rather bury herself in dusty manuscripts, being on camera feels like torture.
"I'm Emily Wilson, Ph.D. in Folklore Studies at University College Cork." I pause to shuffle my papers. "For the next two weeks, we'll be heading to Banshee Village on Ireland's west coast to study local legends firsthand."
I pick up a worn leather book from the table, flipping to my bookmark. "The Banshee—meaning 'fairy woman' or 'female spirit' in Irish—is one of the oldest supernatural figures in Celtic lore. Legend says she appears when death approaches a family, warning them with her distinctive wail."
As I speak, a familiar tingling creeps up my neck. That sensation again. Since I was little, I've felt things others couldn't—shifts in the air, formless presences, watching eyes. Years of academic training taught me to dismiss these feelings as psychological tricks or environmental factors.
"Of course," I continue, forcing myself back into academic mode, "we're not here to prove or disprove these legends. We're studying their cultural significance and psychological function in the community."
I hesitate, debating whether to mention my... personal experiences. What the hell. I'll share a bit.
"I've always had a certain... sensitivity to these phenomena," I say carefully. "Maybe it's my upbringing—my grandmother came from the Scottish Highlands and filled my childhood with ancient tales. Still, I believe even the most supernatural-seeming events can be explained through anthropological and psychological frameworks."
"I think this journey might finally give me the answers I've been looking for."
The recording pauses, and the camera switches to Declan.
---
Declan holds up his handheld camera, filming himself. His face looks slightly blurry in the small viewfinder, but there's a haunted depth in his eyes I hadn't noticed before.
"Declan O'Connor, freelance photographer." His voice carries unusual weight. "I specialize in documentaries and art photography... mostly capturing forgotten places and stories."
He adjusts the camera, bringing his face into sharper focus.
"Look, this project isn't just another job." Declan's voice drops. "Banshee Village... it's near where I grew up. I saw things there... things I still can't explain."
He falls silent, staring past the camera, lost in memory.
"When I was seven, staying at my grandmother's house, I heard it. A woman crying outside my window. Not normal crying—not human. I ran to look and saw her—a figure in a white dress standing in the field. Next morning, old Mike from the village was dead."
"For years, I told myself it was just a nightmare or wild imagination. But deep down... I know better. This trip might finally help me face what happened."
The scene switches to Mark.
---
Mark Thompson stands before a metal workbench cluttered with scientific instruments. At twenty-five, he looks like he stepped straight out of a sci-fi film—young, brilliant, and radiating absolute faith in technology.
"Mark Thompson, acoustic engineer, PhD candidate at University College London." He pats a complex device beside him. "This baby is a multi-frequency sound wave analysis system I designed. It captures and analyzes sounds well beyond human hearing range—both infrasonic and ultrasonic."
He moves to another device bristling with multiple lenses.
"This thermal imaging system can detect temperature changes as small as 0.1 degrees Celsius. If 'supernatural phenomena' actually exist, they must leave physical traces—energy fluctuations, temperature shifts, electromagnetic disturbances. And we'll catch them."
Mark's eyes gleam with the excitement of a scientist facing the unknown.
"Why am I here? Simple. Every supernatural phenomenon has a scientific explanation. Ghosts, fairies, banshees... they're either misinterpreted environmental stimuli or natural phenomena we don't yet understand."
Just then, the sound analyzer behind him emits a sharp beep. Mark turns to check the display, his brow furrowing.
"That's weird... it's picking up an abnormal low-frequency signal, but there's no source in this room."
He taps the instrument's casing, and the beeping stops.
"Just a glitch. Happens all the time," Mark shrugs, facing the camera again. "Once we're in the field, these instruments will give us solid data. By the end of this project, I promise we'll have scientific explanations for every 'supernatural' event in that village."
He smiles confidently, unaware that behind him, a faint waveform continues to pulse on the screen.
