Fear Dubh

In my last post, I talked about the title of Catherine's book purchase. I couldn't get a good look at the author, or the cover art, but I know that the book exists somewhere. For some reason I can't seem to find it not matter what bookstore I look in.
I looked to the internet to give me the answer as to who or what the Fear Dubh is, as Catherine suddenly developed an interest in it. Normally Catherine would be facinated with Irish mythology, the faeries, the heroes and heroines, not the monsters that lurked in the shadows. In my research I found this little description of it:

“In Ireland, there is the legend of the Fear Dubh (The Black Man). This creature is said to haunt solitary footpaths at night, generally those that pass through woodland. It is reputed to be entirely malevolent."

I went from site to site searching for this thing, and found stories of people (or people who knew people) who had encounters with this 'Fear Dubh.' The stories were the stuff of nightmares; people being abducted in the night or, even more unnerving, the day. A story in Ireland about a child and her grandmother, and how the latter died in a terrible fire that had no known cause. How the fire made strange, black cracks all over the walls that looked like the tentacles of a eldritch sea monster. The pictures that showed what was left of the house were chilling. The local county police chief died of a heart attack a few days later, and following his death the priest also died mysteriously. Odd.

There are similar stories around the world, such as Der Großmann, who was featured in several disturbing woodcuts from 16th century Germany. It, too, was a malevolent entity; it lurked in the Black Forest, who supposedly kidnapped naughty children at night, and who stalked said children until they confessed their sins to their parents and changed their ways.
After I looked everywhere I could, I went to Catherine's house to ask her about her obsession with the Fear Dubh, and what started it. Catherine had a vivid imagination, which helped us during our childhood playdates. Perhaps it had gotten the best of her. Or perhaps not.
When I got to her house, I found her drawing in the den. She didn't look like she had slept in days. On pieces of large, white pieces of paper were grim images made with charcoal. Drawings of forests, of a black thing lurking in the water, the fire, the air and the earth, of half remembered nightmares through a cracked, ancient mirror.

I asked, "What is the Fear Dubh, Catherine?"

She muttered, "Something."

Not 'nothing, but 'something.'

"What is it?"

She was silent for a time, but then said, "Everything will be fine, Elizabeth. Just...just please stay with me."

I pulled her into a hug and I whispered, "I will never leave."

We laid on the sofa, saying nothing but holding each other, and there we fell asleep.