Bhí an lá dian ó thaobh aimsire de, gaoithe ag séideadh agus duilleoga ag titim ar sráideanna Bhaile Átha Cliath.

The day was tough weather-wise, with the wind blowing and leaves falling on the streets of Baile Átha Cliath.

Idir an aimsir fhionnuar agus an t-atmaisféar geal, ba léir go raibh Samhain ina sheasamh go daingean ag an doras.

Between the cool weather and the bright atmosphere, it was clear that Samhain was firmly standing at the door.

Bhí go leor scéalaíochta ag fás ag an gcaifé beag cois sráide, áit ina raibh na ballaí maisithe le pictiúir de thaibhsí agus puimcín oráiste ag glioscarnach faoina soilse arda.

Many stories were growing at the small street-side café, where the walls were adorned with pictures of ghosts and orange pumpkins shimmering under the high lights.

Bhí Niamh ina suí ar an mbinse ar thaobh amháin den chláir.

Niamh was sitting on the bench on one side of the board.

Bhí a croí ag bualadh go tapa mar bhí sí ag fanacht lena comhbhá nó b'fhéidir rud éigin níos mó.

Her heart was beating quickly as she waited for her companion or perhaps something more.

Bhí sí i ndáiríre ag iarraidh ceangal a dhéanamh le hEoin thar chaint neamhbhuartha.

She was really trying to connect with Eoin beyond idle chatter.

Mar ealaíontóir atá ag teacht i bhfeidhm, bhíodh eagla uirthi nach dtuigfí í i gceart.

As an emerging artist, she often feared that she wouldn’t be understood correctly.

Shroich Eoin an caifé go cúramach, a shúile ag aimsiriú an ionaid a bhí maisithe le sconsaí de luibheanna thart ar na fuinneoga agus coirí beaga déanta amach as iarann.

Eoin arrived carefully at the café, his eyes observing the place decorated with fences of herbs around the windows and small iron kettles.

Tar éis cúpla nóiméad, shuigh sé síos os comhair Niamh, le meascán de sceitimíní agus leisce istigh ann.

After a few moments, he sat down across from Niamh, with a mixture of excitement and hesitation inside him.

Cé gur bhain sé céim amach sa stair, bhí sé i gcónaí níos ciúine agus cúinge faoi oscailt suas don duine féin.

Although he graduated in history, he was always quieter and more reserved about opening up to people.

"Conas atá tú, Niamh?" a d'fhiafraigh sé, an cúpla focal sin ag síneadh an lámh trasna na tábla.

"How are you, Niamh?" he asked, those few words extending a hand across the table.

"Táim go maith, Eoin, ach tá rud éigin ba mhaith liom a roinnt leat," arsa Niamh go cúramach.

"I'm good, Eoin, but there's something I’d like to share with you," Niamh said carefully.

Bhí a dhéanamh mar a bhí sí ag cuardach osnádúrsta i focail, áfach, bhí rún éigin laistiar dá súile.

She looked as if she was searching supernaturally for words; however, there was some secret behind her eyes.

"Dúisigh d'fhiosracht dom," a dúirt sé, ag teacht níos gaire dá scéal.

"Awaken my curiosity," he said, drawing closer to her story.

"Bhuel, tá pictiúr agam a d'iarraidh mé a phéinteáil le déanaí," thosaigh sí.

"Well, I have a picture I recently tried to paint," she began.

"Tá sé spreagtha ag ócáid i mo shaol timpeall ar Samhain.

"It’s inspired by an event in my life around Samhain.

Taispeánann sé teach dorcha ar bharr cnoic, macasamhail den áit ar thugadh mo sheanathair scéalta uaim."

It shows a dark house on a hill, reminiscent of the place where my grandfather used to tell stories."

Bhí Eoin ag éisteacht go géar, na focail sin cosúil le dul síos stair a léirigh isteach i gcuid dá stair phearsanta féin.

Eoin listened intently, those words were like descending a path that illuminated some of his personal history.

Gan choinne, d’oscail sin doras a raibh air a bhí súil go bagrach an t-am ar fad a choinneáil dúnta.

Suddenly, it opened a door he had hoped to keep threateningly closed all the time.

"In amanna, ní raibh sé éasca dúinn sa stair a chur i gcomparáid idir fíricí agus scéalta," a mheas sé go tuisceanach.

"Sometimes, it wasn’t easy for us in history to compare facts and stories," he considered thoughtfully.

"Bhí uaim tuiscint níos fearr a fháil ar na daoine a tháinig romhainn.

"I wanted to gain a better understanding of the people who came before us.

Chomh maith leis sin, bhí taithí eagsúil agam ag scríobh taispeántas faoi amhias Naomh Eoin suas sa Ghaeltacht nuair a bhí páistí timpeall na tine... Is cuimhin liom an oíche fáigh..."

Moreover, I had a diverse experience writing an exhibit about the prophecy of Naomh Eoin up in the Gaeltacht when children were gathered around the fire... I remember the prophetic night..."

Lean an comhrá ar aghaidh, gach focal ag déshuaimhneas díreach cosúil le teacht le chéile.

The conversation continued, each word soothing like a gathering together.

Bhí siad ag caitheamh go mór leis na brón agus na spleodracha a bhí ann roimhe, ag scaoileadh leo i linnte dá gcuid féin.

They were deeply immersed in the sorrows and excitements that existed before, releasing them into pools of their own.

Nuair a d’fhágadar an caifé, bhí sé socraithe acu go mbeadh trí cluiche ar a laghad acu eile gan cuimhneamh uirthi.

When they left the café, they had agreed that they would have at least three more games without thinking of her.

Le gáire níos mó agus leo rádhtaí níos doimhne, bhí siad in ann féile an gheimhridh a fheiceáil i bhfad níos geal.

With more laughter and deeper expressions, they could see the winter festival much more brightly.

Phóg na héin faoi cheangal dóibh iontach, toisc go raibh an grása tar éis teacht go dúchasach ag an deireadh.

Birds sealed in a marvelous, innate grace had arrived at the end.

Bhí Niamh níos muiníní astu féin, agus bhí Eoin réidh go himníoch ar an dromchla a d’fhágfadh sé amach faoina scéalta féin.

Niamh was more confident in herself, and Eoin was anxiously ready on the surface to reveal his own stories.

Ní éan seans fós, lean an t-osnádúr.

Not a chance bird yet, the supernatural continued.

Bhí Samhain réidh leis an saol nua a thug na scéalta isteach.

Samhain was ready with the new life the stories introduced.