An tSúil Dheireanach [Irish]

By: Berg, Bredevoort Van Den

AN tS IL DHEIREANACH - SC AL UAF IS AS GAEILGE AGUS B ARLA - THE LAST EYE - HORROR STORY IN IRISH AND ENGLISH - BREDEVOORT VAN DEN BERG

Ar an cladach crua, n cairp id mhairbh a sheideann an fharraige an os a thuilleadh. S ile a sh ideann s . Agus ina su ag faire, feiceann Elsa Kriel an seancheannaire teach solais, Uncail Frik, ag d anamh fionnachtana uaf saigh sa ghainmheach thais: s il amh in, ag lonr le hatais, ar dath copair sheana. S il a mhn c ile at ann, caillte leis na tonnta daichead bliain shin. Ach n l an ts il seo marbh. T s ina d iseacht, agus n heisean at bhreathn , ach tr d, agus a haird seasta ar Elsa.

Along the hardened shore, it is no longer carpets of dead things that the sea casts up. It is eyes. As she sits watching, Elsa Kriel sees the old lighthouse keeper, Uncle Frik, make a horrifying discovery in the damp sand: a single eye, gleaming with malice, the color of aged copper. It is his wife's eye, lost to the waves forty years earlier. But this eye is not dead. It is awake, and it is not watching him, but through him, its unwavering attention fixed on Elsa.

"N thr cht an fharraige coirp a thuilleadh. Sh id s s ile amach.

The sea no longer spat out corpses. It spat out eyes.

Bh siad ina lu ar an tr mar ph arla fliucha, ag drithli sa chlapsholas. Sheas Elsa Kriel lena l mha s ite go domhain i bp ca a seaic id. Bh a hathair, fear a sheol an fharraige ar feadh caoga bliain, tar is a r go raibh cuimhne ag an aig an.

They lay on the beach like wet pearls, glistening in the twilight. Elsa Kriel stood with her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets. Her father, a man who had sailed the sea for fifty years, had said the ocean had a memory.

Strac scread tr thorman na dtonn. N scread uaf is. Scread aitheantais.

A shriek cut through the rumble of the breakers. Not a shriek of fright. One of recognition.

D'iompaigh Elsa. Bh Uncail Frik, an seanchoime da t solais a mb odh a intleacht ag teacht is ag imeacht mar a bh onn an taoide, ar a ghl ine sa ghaineamh tais. Ina l mha ardaithe, amhail ofr il, bh s il. Ba dhath an chopair a bh ar an imreasc, breactha le p osa ir.

Elsa turned. Uncle Frik, the old lighthouse keeper whose mind came and went like the tide, knelt in the damp sand. In his upturned hands, like an offering, lay an eye. The iris was the color of copper, speckled with gold.

"Annette," ar s de chogar. A bhean ch ile. Caillte san fharraige daichead bliain shin. N or aims odh a corp cho che.

"Annette," he whispered. His wife. Lost at sea forty years ago. Her body never found.

Chuaigh Elsa n os gaire. N orbh Elsa a bh breathn ag an ts il i l mha Uncail Fhrik. Bh s ag f achaint uirthise. Chaolaigh an dalba, dubh agus gan teorainn, go dt pointe bior in. Mhothaigh Elsa ag d ri . Ar a haghaidh.

Elsa stepped closer. The eye in Uncle Frik's hands did not look up at him. It looked at her. The pupil, black and infinite, narrowed to a pinprick. Elsa felt it focus. On her face."

• Format: Paperback
• Language: Irish
• ISBN: B0GQNNJYTM
• ISBN13: 9798233721960
• Release Date: December 2025
• Publisher: Bredevoort Van Den Berg
• Length: 46 Pages
• Weight: 0.12 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.1" x 5.0" x 8.0"