Many years ago, one quiet afternoon, something truly strange was seen making its way down from Cullenagh Mountain. Witnesses recall what appeared to be a ghostly funeral procession, moving with eerie calm toward Mr. McHugh’s rath in Garryglass.

The spectral cortege followed a clear path — across the crest of Moineenard Hill, then down through Curraduff — visible in broad daylight. But this was no ordinary funeral. The procession included phantom horses, ancient-looking chariots, and a long line of mourners who seemed not of this time.

What unsettled the local onlookers most was that none of the faces were familiar — not a single mourner could be identified. It was as if the funeral had travelled not only across the landscape, but across time itself. Many came to believe the procession was a remnant of the Great Famine era — a sorrowful echo from a time of mass death and displacement.

To this day, the story is remembered with a chill. And remarkably, two men who witnessed it with their own eyes — Edward Whelan and James Scully — are still living. Their testimony stands as a haunting reminder that not all the dead rest quietly, and that the land itself may remember sorrow longer than we expect.