He came to Ireland to outrun his past—not to find love.
But on a windswept beach in a land steeped in history and story, he met her—Niamh, with her sea-glass eyes and wearing green ribbons in her hair. A girl who seemed more myth than mortal. More real than make-believe.
Together they wandered ancient paths and quiet villages, collecting memories like stones: songs, secrets, stolen kisses… and something older still, hidden just beneath the surface of the world.
Then the unthinkable happened, and everything fell apart.
Now, in the wake of unimaginable loss, he returns—older, changed, carrying only the fragments of what they once were. But the land remembers. So do the stones. And somewhere between the ruins and the sea, the truth still lingers, waiting to be found.
Lyrical and haunting, The Green Beyond the Rain is a tale of young love and old magic, of grief that won’t let go—and the impossible hope that some stories never truly end.
For readers who believe the heart remembers what the mind forgets—and that some loves echo long after goodbye.
Genre: FICTION / Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & MythologyBook to be Released in September 2025.
I left the hostel before breakfast.
Didn’t speak to the girl at the desk. Didn’t bother with my phone, just left it on the nightstand in the room. I stuffed the scarf into my jacket pocket and set out for a place where the sea and the sky hold hands.
The world had been freshly made again. Mist still rose like steam from the sand, and the gulls hadn’t started squawking yet—only watched, heads tilted, still as statues carved from chalk. There were no other footprints visible in the sand except mine.
For a moment, all I could do was hold my breath, the same as the world- and like some unspoken plea or prayer, she appeared again. Same place as yesterday. Just above the shoreline, near a black rock shaped like a bent knee. She was crouching barefoot, sleeves rolled up, stacking oval earth-toned stones into tiny towers.
“You’re early,” she said without looking up.
“Why do you always show up when I need you most,” I asked.
She smiled—eyes on the rock tower, hands steady. “I show up because you’re paying attention.”
I stood there a beat too long, then walked toward her. Her coat was different this time—green wool, frayed at the cuffs. Her hair was still chaos though, copper-red curling wildly around her face.
“What are you building, exactly?” I’d seen similar towers along trails before—cairns, I think they’re called.
“Nothing that stays.” She placed one last stone on top of the other, then sat back on her heels. “In the end, the sea will take them anyway. That’s pretty much the point.”
“Then why build them at all?”
“Because I can,” she said, finally looking up. “You never needed a reason to make something, did you?”
