She screams in the night—a bone-chilling cry that echoes across the hills, past the ruined castles and moonlit fields of Ireland. Her wail is unmistakable. A harbinger of death. A voice from the Otherworld. Who is this legendary spirit who has haunted Irish folklore for centuries? Meet the Banshee.
What is a Banshee? And no, we’re not talking about one of Siouxsie Sioux's bandmates. We’re talking about the original Irish scream queen. A ghost? A faerie? A messenger from beyond? Yes—and more.
The word Banshee
(from the Old Irish Bean-Sídhe) means “Woman of the Fairy Mound.” She’s one of the *Aos Sí*—the supernatural race of fae beings rooted deep in Celtic mythology. She’s been called many names across Ireland and the British Isles:
One thing is always consistent: the Banshee is a woman—and like any woman worth her salt, she knows how to reinvent herself. Over the centuries, she has appeared in many forms:
These varied appearances have led some scholars to believe the Banshee represents a *Celtic Triple Goddess*—the three faces of womanhood: maiden, mother, and crone. She bears a striking resemblance to the Morrígan, the shapeshifting “phantom queen” of Irish myth, associated with fate, war, and death. Is the Banshee simply a messenger? Or something far more divine?
Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark. ~ Lucy Christopher
The Banshee doesn’t always show herself—but you’ll know she’s near. Her cries pierce the night, said to shatter glass and rattle bones. Her keening—derived from the Irish word *caoineadh*, meaning “to cry” or “to wail”—mimics the traditional mourning of Irish women who grieved the dead in funerary rites. But unlike those mourners, the Banshee wails *before* death, not after. She doesn’t cause it—she predicts it.
The first known written reference to a Banshee appears in the *Cathreim Thoirdhealbhaigh*, a 14th-century Irish text. But oral legends of wailing fae women predate even that. Variants of the Banshee legend exist in Welsh, Scottish, and even Norse traditions—always female, always otherworldly, and always mournful.
In Ireland, some families were said to be *chosen*—followed by their own personal Banshee. According to legend, only five ancient Irish clans could claim this dubious honor: O’Grady, O’Neill, O’Brien, O’Connor, and Kavanagh. And each family had its own tale.
For the O’Briens, their Banshee wasn’t just any spirit—she was said to be the *Queen* of Banshees, named Eevul (yes, that’s as ominous as it sounds). She had her own ghostly entourage and was known for announcing the death of a family member with chilling grandeur.
The O’Donnell family Banshee was said to haunt the cliffs near *Dunluce Castle*, perched above the sea near the Mermaid’s Cave. Her wails foretold tragedies to come, echoing through the waves as she mourned the family's sorrowful fate.
The O’Neill Banshee, *Maeveen*, known as the “White Lady of Sorrow,” had her own room in the castle at Lough Neagh. Some said they saw a body-shaped impression in her bed. In 1816, her room caught fire during a gathering—burning part of the castle to the ground. Coincidence? Or Maeveen’s anger at uninvited guests?
Banshee sightings increased during times of war. Soldiers would flee their posts upon hearing her cries in nearby forests, believing their own death was near. Many of those who ran were cut down by enemies—or executed by their own commanders for desertion. The Banshee didn’t swing a sword, but her scream could still kill.
But the debate over her existence isn’t new. In 1893, *The Irish Times* published letters from readers describing personal encounters—like Patrick Farrell of Kildare, who heard sobbing in his yard, saw a white deer, and attempted to strike it. His blow hit empty air, and the creature let out a scream “he hoped never to hear again.” The same night, his cousin died—half a world away in Australia.
“The stick passed through space, but I heard such a scream as I hope and pray shall never fall on my ears again.” – Patrick Farrell, *The Irish Times*, 1893<
Some Banshee stories border on royal intrigue. In 1437, a mysterious woman appeared to King James I of Scotland, warning him of an assassination plot. He ignored her. Days later, he was murdered—just as she predicted. Banshee? Spy? Who knows. But the timing was uncanny.
In 1801, Sir Jonah Barrington and his wife were staying with the British Commander in Ireland. At 2:30 a.m., they were woken by a ghastly wailing outside their window. The sound turned into a voice, repeating the name “Rossmore” three times. That morning, they learned a servant named Rossmore had died—at exactly 2:30 a.m.
The Banshee is often misunderstood as a grim reaper or evil spirit. But that’s not entirely fair. In many stories, she’s a mourning figure—a tragic soul who weeps for those who are about to die. She doesn’t cause death; she mourns it before it arrives.
It’s even said that she was once a mortal woman—broken by grief, cursed to roam forever, keening in sorrow. She now travels alone, appearing only when death draws near, fluttering from home to home like a misty breath on the wind.
But beware her dark sister, *Lianhan Sidhe*, the “Sweetheart Fairy.” This seductive fae would lure men to madness with obsessive love—proof that not all spirits in Irish lore cry for the dead. Some make you wish you were.
So, is the Banshee real? Or just a voice carried by the Irish wind? Either way, she’s here to stay—woven into the tapestry of Celtic mythology, folklore, and ghost stories told by firelight in every county of Ireland.
And the next time you find yourself strolling through the misty green hills of the Emerald Isle, or sipping a pint in a centuries-old pub, listen closely. That long, mournful cry in the distance? It might not be the wind after all.
After all, the Banshee doesn’t knock. She wails.