The Unquiet Land

excerpt

…lack of ambition contrasted remarkably with that of Clifford Hamilton who had different aims on human brains. Yet when Caitlin thought about it, she could not avoid the conclusion that maybe Liam’s desire to fill young brains with learning was more worthy, if less prestigious, than Clifford Hamilton’s desire to open them up for medical probing. She admired Liam all the more for his altruism. He was indeed a true disciple of his idol, Father Padraig.
Beyond the school the pebble-dashed, two-storey rectory stood back a bit from the lane. Lamplight shone through the window of Padraig’s room upstairs; the rest of the house was in darkness. Padraig shared the rectory with Father Donagh Costello, the priest of the neighbouring parish “over the bridge” in Aughnashannagh. The pious widow, Brid O’Flaherty, lived in the same house as servant and cook to the two parish priests.
Caitlin paused outside the rectory, then passed by and climbed the rough-cut steps to the church. Aligned along the ridge, Our Lady Star of the Sea church occupied a spread of flat ground covered with the same beach-pebbles as the footpath from the road. Caitlin paused in the doorway at the west end of the church, stayed for a moment by the clarity and peace of the evening. She gazed out over the gravestones and the grass to the errant line of the cliff-top. Dark grey was the sea beyond, and blue the sky above. The blueness of the sky paled to limpid opalescence where the sun had set. No sound. No movement. Only a shiver in the short grass where the breeze blew across it. Inland the evening shadows darkened the purple hills, the green fields, the grey stone walls, the yellow flowers of spreading whins. Lights in farmhouse windows twinkled like stars. Thin twines of smoke uncoiled from cottage chimneys.
Caitlin felt a surge of joy within her. No-one knows how much I love this land, she thought.
She opened the church door with a click of the latch and closed it gently behind her. The hush of the evening out of doors deepened between the white walls and the dark, varnished roof-beams of the church. Three small windows high up along each wall admitted light by day but they were gloomy now. Below each window a picture hung. Padraig had told Caitlin their stories. Along the right-hand wall that overlooked the sea the first picture showed Jesus calling the disciples Andrew and John as they worked at their nets by the shore; the second showed Him in a crowded boat ordering the stormy waters to be calm; and the third showed Him walking upon the sea, holding an outstretched hand to Peter. Along the opposite wall the first picture was of Jesus pulling ears of corn as He walked through a field with…

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Swamped

excerpt

…people in the movies revive others in these situations, so he plugs the
boy’s nose and blows into his mouth with all his might, once, twice,
and then asks Anthony to compress the chest, until after a minute or
so the boy gasps and expels water from his mouth as he comes to his
senses. Anthony and Eteocles turn him face down as he continues to
cough and spit out water, and in a few moments he is well enough to
recognize the women.
“Mom” he says quietly, looking up at one of the two women. She
sobs and embraces him.
The other woman can’t stop thanking and praising the two young
heroes. She takes a couple of figs from her bag, peals them, and gives
one to each of the boys. Eteocles and Anthony bite into the sweet
fruit and thank the woman.
As they walked back to their football game, Anthony looks at his
cousin as well as all the other boys who crowd around and ask Eteocles
where he learned to resuscitate drowning victims.
“At the movies,” Eteocles tells them, his chest swelling with pride
and happiness. He has brought someone back to life.

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Ugga

one
One thousand years of darkness
one thousand years of twilight
one thousand lonely writers
weren’t enough
to hide knowledge
one thousand painters
didn’t bring a Renaissance
tens of thousands of sculptors
the ancient Hellenes too
idolized the body
and the Fourth Racism
suddenly appeared

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Introspection

Daring
The man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache dared his creator and challenged his claim over the sickly thin body, an auspicious gift could return to its maker at any time; death never took hold of his undying soul and creative pneuma, the man sitting at the end of the dining room, of whom the other patrons of the humble pension hashed words of wonder and awe, who could have done it or other wondering phrases people say before the superhuman mind, the Übermensch of his creator, who dared challenge his maker and who reached the ultimate step of the abyss and dared it too, the man who each time the hammer struck him the echo of his unyielding strength reciprocated with a thud more deafening than the first, the man who stood upon the human greatness and made it stronger and more enduring, the man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache sitting at the edge of the dining room and staring at the people eating or in the hallway, no need to look outside the window, his battle was always waged against his internal enemy, himself

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