Eerie O’Shaughnessy and the Dining Room That Misread His Measures

A dim calm rests upon O’Shaughnessy House, flowing most heavily into the abandoned dining room, where domestic gatherings once mixed with the private pursuits of Cormac Alastair O’Shaughnessy, an amateur physician who improvised remedies along the household table. Now the powder’s delicate balance near the jar hints at a moment he never resolved.

A Balance in the Healer’s Household Practice

Cormac, born 1871 near Galway Bay, learned rudimentary herbcraft from his grandmother Aileen O’Shaughnessy, whose mortar and pestle sit cracked beside the serving tray.

His days unwound in modest order: morning infusions steeped in the kitchen hearth, afternoon consultations with neighbors who trusted his gentle manner, and evenings spent measuring doses across dinner plates instead of proper scales. His care lingers in the objects left behind—recipes tucked beneath placemats, bottles arranged by tone, cloth strips rolled for poultices. Even the indent of his chair cushion holds the shape of his persistent patience.

Where His Judgement Lost Its Course

Rumors circled that Cormac prepared an over-strong tonic for a fevered neighbor, causing harm he had not foreseen. In the back hallway, a bag of dried herbs spills in a thin trail along the floorboards. Aileen’s pestle shows a fresh chip at the base. A folded letter sits wedged behind a cabinet leg, addressed but never delivered. A dose sheet bears hurried corrections, figures cramped and crossed out. These details drift toward a troubled conscience yet never name the moment his confidence wavered.

Only the faint balance of spilled powder remains, poised on the table’s worn grain. Whatever stilled Cormac’s final measure lingers inside these abandoned rooms.

O’Shaughnessy House remains abandoned still.