Tag: death

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“I bet none of your sons’ll be fishermen,” Sweeney argued. “You can’t make a decent living at it any more. The whole industry’s gone mad.” He reached out and poured the formerly rejected half bottle of porter into a glass. “What did it cost to run a boat before the war? A hundred pounds a week maybe. Now it costs around three, four hundred. Even more for the big boats. You’re paying out more than you’re taking in.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’re an exception, Joe; and I wish I knew how you did it.” Sweeney was staring at the pale, frothy head in his glass of porter. Then he looked up at Joe. “It must be galling for you to get tuppence or thruppence a pound for your fish at the quayside and watch the fishmongers in their shops rake in anything from sixpence to half a crown.”
“And there’s damned little going for sixpence, I can tell you,” said Slattery. “In fact the housewives in the city are complaining because they can’t get enough fish, and the fishermen are complaining because they can’t get rid of it. I hear that whitings were so plentiful during Lent that fishermen couldn’t give them away. They had to send them to the manure yard. I think Michael was wise to sell out. Not that he’s a fisherman anyway.”
“Speak of the Devil and he appears,” said Sweeney. “How are you, Michael? Come and join us.”
Michael and Caitlin had just appeared at the dining-room door and looked in.
“We’re going pretty soon,” said Joe Carney. “Don’t give us that impatient look.”
“They’re not very hospitable, are they, Joe?” Sweeney teased with a leer. “Wouldn’t you much rather be surrounded with good friends, lots of food and plenty to drink on a miserable, wet night like this than stuck in here all alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to?”
“I would to be sure, Sweeney,” Joe agreed. “Come on, you two, sit down, have another drink, enjoy the craic.”
“I think we should take the hint and go,” said Seamus Slattery. “It’s getting to be very late. This isn’t one of Finn’s parties.”
“You don’t have to leave on our account,” said Caitlin.
“Oh, I think we do,” Slattery declared. “It’s been a long and memorable day for you two lovebirds.”
“Well, your wife’s still gossiping in the kitchen,” said Sweeney. “Go and grab hold of her and tell her it’s time to go home. Come on, we’ll all go together.”
Twenty minutes later the house was empty, and Michael and Caitlin sat…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

He walked back to the rented room and settled in his new home. It was
a small room with a table, a chair, a closet for his clothes, and a single
bed. The size of the room was no more than three by four meters,
with paint cracks all over; some paint had peeled right off the walls.
He didn’t really care about its condition. It was a very cheap room.
A small window with shutters opened to the street, and Hermes
saw a small garden. He took out his clothes from the suitcase and
hung them with care in the closet. He, then, sat down on the bed and
thought it would be a good idea to write home and let them know he
had arrived and was okay, three letters to three different addresses.
Realizing he had no paper, he walked out to the closest corner
store, where he bought some paper, a small jar of coffee and a small
rectangular box of sugar cubes, which he encountered for the first
time in his life. He went back to his room and sat at the desk to write
his first letter to his uncle and untie. He described in detail that his
trip was very good, the city was beautiful, and he felt enthusiastic
about the university. He wrote with intense feelings, particularly
in the second letter, addressed to Magdalene. He signed the letters
and sealed the envelopes. He would post them first thing tomorrow
morning. Hunger took over him. He got up, knocked at the
door of his landlady and asked where he could find a restaurant to
eat something. She informed him that “Black Cat” was the closest
restaurant to the house and told him how to get there. Hermes got
out and walked the few blocks to the restaurant. The server brought
his coffee. Hermes understood that coffee was served each time, even
before an order was given to the servers. He looked at the menu, but
he couldn’t understand the words; therefore, he didn’t know what to
order. He had his coffee and a cigarette. The girl refilled his cup and
looked at him with questioning eyes. He pointed to the menu and
said, “I don’t know what these are…” his finger travelling down the
list of food items. The young server asked him,
“What language does he speak…” He said, “Greek,” she called
him to follow her. He got up and followed the girl through a hallway
to an opening that connected the restaurant to the kitchen.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

…at their destination, and they should fasten their seat belts. Hermes
looked down from the window. It was a cloudless night. He had a
superb panoramic view of the city, full of lights flickering in the dark.
He could distinguish the streets and the tall buildings as the aircraft
slowly descended.
They landed, and Hermes got up to take his carry-on bag from
the overhead compartment, stepped off the plane, and said goodbye
to Tom. An airline official led Hermes down the long hallways to the
baggage area. He found his suitcase from the appropriate carousel
and made his way to the arrivals area, where people waited for their
friends and family members. Happy voices were everywhere; people
embraced one another, kissing, laughing, and crying. He turned
around as if to see someone he knew. There was no one there, he knew
no one, and this was his first bitter moment of realization that he was
so far away from people he loved. He wished Magda were here. He
then sat on a bench and wondered aloud,
“And now, where are you going, Hermes?” A question justified
under the circumstances, a question he had no answer to, only the
sense of loss, of abandonment, of forlornness, and fear crept into his
heart. Then, as if from the great source, he felt he heard a voice that
whispered to his heart, not to his ears. And it was the voice of his new
motherland that said,
“Welcome, Hermes, you are here in Vancouver now, go out
there, find your way to do your studies and get your diploma. Your
folks are waiting for you, back in Greece. They look forward to seeing
you back. Your diploma is your goal and nothing less…” were the
words he felt he heard, and the voice wasn’t any other but the voice
of Canada, his temporary motherland, which, like a mother, took
another orphan off the streets and gave him a chance.
Suddenly, the fear he had just felt vanished, and a jolt of enthusiasm
took over his senses. Hermes stood up. His eyes ran around the
space of the large airport hall when his glance met the old woman
whom he had helped in Montreal; she saw him too. At the same
time, a very tall man with a good-looking woman approached…

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“Ah, my dear friend. It takes many strong men and much skill to travel up stream,
where the waters run faster than a raging buffalo. Our boat would not last on the
running waters or over the deep falls. It is impossible to travel this way until the
summer has calmed the river spirits to make them safe for men. It would take us
many weeks to build a wood boat strong enough to resist the sharp rocks that wait
on the river’s belly and hidden turns. We must walk across the land to reach my
home. One day, our home river will carry you on his back to visit other peoples.
Then you will learn his ways.”
That night, Fire Maker spoke about the Great Floods. “In the ancient days, there
were two great floods. The first flood was long before men and women came to this
land. In that time, the animals spoke to one another as we do today. Bear spoke to
fish. Fish spoke to birds. They ate plants and berries and grew fat on the land. They
saw themselves reflected in the waters. The animals saw how beautiful they were and
became proud and boastful. Each one thought he was more beautiful than the other.
So the Creator decided to punish the animals for their conceit and wash the arrogance
from their faces.”
Ari stirred the embers and watched the end of his branch catch fire. He held it up
until the feeble flame died, sending curls of blue smoke toward the stars.
Fire Maker knew the young travellers enjoyed his stories as much as anyone,
though they grew restless as the evening progressed. He continued with a smile.
“The waters came pouring down so hard that some lost all their colour and became
very plain. Others, like the blue jay, found shelter in the high trees and kept their colour.
Because the animals had been so boastful, the Creator even washed away their
speech. Now many animals are unable to understand each other when they speak.
Wolf eats deer and bear eats fish. The Creator made us all to be brothers. But some
forget or do not know how they should be.”
Father Finten wanted to share his own story of the flood from the Book of Genesis.
But he knew his stories paled in the telling, compared to the storytelling skill
of their host. So the missionary priest continued to lose opportunities to make converts.
To him, it seemed as though the chief was already converted. The stories he
told made much sense for the people of this land and Finten found the Native creation
story very beautiful.
Father Finten struggled with what he judged to be a heresy forming in his mind:
Perhaps God shines through to all the different people of the world in many different
forms. If our Christian God is true, and all other gods are false, must I take their
god away to give them mine, when all the gods are one and the same True God?
He wished there were some theologian around, with whom he could confide. If he
lost the Faith and his missionary purpose, what was left? Finten tried to stop his
thoughts as Fire Maker’s words continued hypnotically.
“One day, the Creator made man. He gave his newest creature everything to be
happy. But man too became proud and wanted to be greater than the gods. So the
Creator of all things sent another flood. This time, the waters washed the colour
from many men. The most proud became almost white.”
At this, the six white men looked at one another and Bjorn burst into a hearty
laugh, and his companions joined in.
Finten remarked, “Yes, we have indeed been too proud. Much too proud.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

When he and Caitlin returned to the sitting room the music was just starting again, and dancers were sorting themselves out on the floor. But a sixteen-hand reel in the sitting room was much too ambitious. The set collapsed amid shouts and laughter, but the music played on.
“Fiddlers are tireless,” someone said. “Wouldn’t it be good if they could pull a plough?”
“And play the fiddle at the same time.”
“That Dan Ryan is always on the fiddle—no matter what he’s doing.”
“Hey Molly, what about a song?”
“Give us The Sally Gardens, Molly.”
“Good girl, Molly.”
“Come on now, don’t be shy.”
“She’ll start in a minute. Just wait and see.”
“Sure she hasn’t the shapin’s o’ beginnin’ on her.”
“She has surely. Good girl, Molly.”
“The Sally Gardens, Molly.”
Molly Noonan began to sing in a clear soprano voice the first of many songs. Almost everyone in the sitting room performed a song, a recitation, a step-dance or a tune on the fiddle or the pennywhistle. There were no more set dances. As the evening wore on, the ceilidh became quieter.
In the kitchen a few women sat around the table talking over cups of tea.
“I still think she’s pregnant already,” said a thin, bony woman with a face as sharp as the prow of a skiff. “You mark my words, she’ll be a mother well before nine months are out.”
“Maire Kelly, you’ve an evil tongue in your head.” Una Slattery was loyal to Caitlin whom she had cared for as a little girl.
“No, I haven’t,” said Maire. “But I have a sharp eye. I can tell when a woman’s pregnant. And I’m always right. Wasn’t I right about the Dooley girl? And Lizzie Thompson? And I’m right about Caitlin MacLir.”
“Caitlin Carrick,” said Maggie Potter, a woman in her thirties more talked about than talkative. She had been engaged for thirteen years to Willy Dunn, a farmer who refused to leave his mother to marry.
“Caitlin Carrick. I’m sorry. I’m not used to that yet.” Maire Kelly was a stiletto-tongued spinster not known to be afraid of speaking her mind. “Barbed wire in a black dress,” was Slattery’s description of her. “Mind you,” Maire went on, “I’m not reproaching her. It’s happened manys a time before and it’ll happen manys a time again. Michael Carrick is a handsome big man, straight and steady as they come. He’ll make a good husband and father.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“I must admit, Flynn, that I have had a few but I am not yet drunk.” Clifford spoke with aristocratic self-assurance. “I merely want to inject a more light-hearted note into our conversation because people are looking at us and they are all—including your stepmother-in-law who has just gone upstairs—they are all expecting us to become violent and start shouting at one another like you and Jim Patterson. I don’t really want to be involved in that kind of confrontation. And there needn’t be a national confrontation either. If only you Nationalists would see reason and admit that, yes, there are two nations—two distinct, well-defined, ethnic groups sharing this tiny Devil’s island. We have a larger group that is Catholic by religion and Irish by history and heritage; and we have a smaller group that is Protestant by religion and British by history and heritage. Two groups, though. Two nations. And there’s no disputing the fact. Accept it like a gentleman. Then simply agree that the Irish Catholics will govern themselves in one part of the island, by far the larger part; the Protestant British will govern themselves in the other, much smaller part; and we’ll all work together in harmony and cooperation to make the whole island a fit and happy place for all. Thumb your nose at the Devil, Flynn. Give God back his island. For I doubt if he wants it the way it is now.”
“The only ones I thumb my nose at are the British,” Flynn said. “They are the ones who did the Devil’s work. They can undo it by giving the island, the whole, undivided island, back to the Irish whose country it is.”
“It’s too late, Flynn. The Devil’s work is done, and not even the British—not even God himself—can undo it now. No doubt the British wish they could. But at least their Government of Ireland Bill recognises the present state of affairs. It’s offering us a parliament in the South, a parliament in the North, and a Council of Ireland for the whole country. What could be wrong with that?”
“It’s two sham parliaments and a Council that can’t raise a single tax or command the services of a single policeman.” Flynn jabbed a finger against Clifford’s chest. “And what is even more galling is that the British proposals rob this Council of ever being able to become a real political power in the country. The British have given a minority of the Irish people a veto over any such development. Do you expect me to rejoice over anything so blatantly unjust? Six counties have control of all the development of self-government in thirty-two. A quarter of the population can veto the liberties of three-quarters.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

As the companions travelled, Keallach, Bjorn and Ari hunted small game and
sometimes they fished. Rordan, Ula and Yamka gathered edible mushrooms and dug
for roots and, following a full day’s trek, prepared the evening meal. Rordan was
quite happy to join the girls in a task normally left to women.
Bjorn, Ari, and Fire Maker emerged from a forest of alder, maple and birch, between
two mountain slopes, into a flat river valley partially shrouded in scatterings
of early morning mist. In the foreground was a wide meadow rich with new grasses
and spring flowers in yellows, purples and whites. Beyond the meadow, a reed-filled
marsh partially surrounded a sparkling lake.
The three had set out ahead of the others with lines and a net to catch trout for
breakfast. In the distance, Finten rattled off morning prayers with Keallach and Ailan
while Rordan, Ula and Yamka sent joyful laughter echoing through the boulders
of the steep mountainsides. Fire Maker walked in silence and didn’t seem to mind
that Bjorn and Ari conversed in the language of the Norse.
“She is wonderful,” Ari said. “If I were to spend the rest of my life with one person
… What I am trying to say is …”
Bjorn didn’t wait for Ari to finish his sentence. “Maybe, when we arrive at Fire
Maker’s homeland, you should ask Ula to marry you. Have you asked her if she feels
the same?”
“She is always with Rordan.”
“Why would he mind? His kind do not marry; they have a vow.”
“I know that, but I do not think Rordan is bound to that vow.”
Fire Maker signalled a silent pause. A cow moose lifted its gigantic head from the
morass of bulrushes, trailing a steamy clump of dripping swamp grass. Slowly chewing
her mouthful, the animal was content to observe the interlopers.
“If you really want to be with her,” Bjorn continued, “take her by the arm and lead
her away from Rordan, then tell her how you feel about her.”
The conversation was over as Fire Maker, who had walked a little way ahead, came
to a stream wide enough for good fishing. Bjorn and Ari hurried over to join him
with lines in the water.
Whenever the sun crossed the hills and mountains to set in the west, Fire Maker
and Finten became the campfire storytellers. With an apparent knack for language,
Father Finten was already fluent in the Mandan tongue. He related his stories from
the Old and New Testaments in ways both monks and laymen could relate to. He was
determined to make many converts when they reached the Mandan Nation. It was
his sacred mission.
The best stories belonged to Fire Maker. Everyone listened carefully when the
chief spread his hands to begin a story. In his deep, soft voice, he wove his tales with
expressive hands that cast wild animal shadows in the flickering light of the campfire.
“Long ago and long ago and long ago, the gods who made this land fought a
mighty battle to see who was strongest. Spirit of the North covered the land with
snow and ice. All the plant life went to sleep. The living creatures travelled many
moons south along the edge of the great salt water.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

In Turbulent Times

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Ian buttoned his jacket, lit another cigarette and waited. His feet were sore and his calves ached. He shifted his position every couple of minutes. He thought: They can’t sit all this time on that concrete wall without their arses getting sore. He lit another cigarette. At his feet a litter of butts and grey ash messed the pavement.
The sky was darkening to sea-blue. A few stars twinkled.
At last they moved. While applause for the performance died to silence, and a low buzz of conversation replaced it, Nora and her friends slipped stiffly from the wall and stretched and put on cardigans. Ian saw Nora’s large bust below her blouse. She turned to the sallow man and said something. He replied and waved a long, skinny hand. The three girls walked away together along the path by the sea-wall and out on to the main road. They turned to the right in the direction of the Drumard Strand Hotel.
Ian followed until they had sauntered past his car. When he himself reached the car he climbed in and drove to the hotel by a side road that passed a row of private houses with gardens extending to the beach. It led him by the railway station and the bus terminus to the driveway of the hotel. He parked the car, combed his hair in the rear-view mirror, straightened his jacket and then walked casually into the plushy ambience of the hotel. It struck him as being somewhat old-world and serious but comfortable.
He entered the leathery den of the Slieve Corragh Room, where he had first met Nora and her friend. The bar was busy but not full. He stood in the doorway for a moment while the muted hubbub of voices and laughter and the warm smoky air drifted past him into the thickly carpeted lobby. He looked at the coffered, wooden ceiling, the white upper walls above dark, varnished wainscoting. A large painting of Slieve Corragh hung on the wall to his left. He felt at home here. This was his milieu. He strode across to the bar and sat on an empty stool beside a naval captain who had his back turned half towards him as he talked to a lady with a blue rinse in her hair.
‘Scotch and water, please. Glenfiddich.’
He waited. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the doorway. The anticipation and the Scotch and the aftermath of a mixed grill were teasing his stomach maliciously. He was acting like an adolescent, like a seventeen-year-old boy suffering his first unbearable love for the girl up the street, the skinny little girl in pigtails who had suddenly, without his noticing, grown into a woman. Ian’s knees were trembling. He gulped down the Scotch and ordered another.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

Redemption

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

“Yes, Mother, but I’m only going away for a while; do not forget
that.”
Maria smiled and added, “Of course, my boy, you will return.
But remember, you must write home frequently, so we can find out
how your studies are going.”
“You guys think as if I am going to forget completely where I
come from. Don’t worry yourselves with that.”
His father cut in, “Son, you are an adult, but I want you to be
very careful in the foreign country you are headed; we, your mother
and father, uncle and auntie, or friends, will not be there. There are
a lot of dangers over there, and you might get into a lot of trouble.
Have your eyes and ears open, be careful in a foreign place. You are
responsible for yourself.”
The old man’s voice became hoarse. Hermes looked at his dad
with surprise in his eyes: tears flowed freely down the old man’s
cheeks. Yet this time, George Dragakis didn’t even care to hide his
feelings from the rest of the family. Hermes went to his father and
gave him a big hug.
“Do not worry. I know where I’m going, and I know what I’m
there for. My only concern is to finish my schooling and return home
to find you all. Do not worry. Nothing will distract me from my goal.”
Hermes’s voice had so much certainty as it was heard that all those
present felt positively about his voyage.
“What about Magda, my boy?” his aunt asked.
“Magdalene and I are going to be in touch, and I hope to see her
when I come back. She told me she might even come and visit me in
Vancouver next summer. I look forward to that, really. I like this girl
a lot.”
His mother and father heard these words and felt a bit relieved,
although they’d prefer if he didn’t go away at all.
George got up to go to the bathroom, and Hermes could
hear the old man blowing his nose. Then Hermes went to the bar
and poured a drink for himself. He asked if anybody would like to
have one, but they all declined.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

eating itself—has proved too much for him.”
“The poor man. What a horrible thing to happen at a time like this.” Father Costello then remembered the congregation in the church. “Dr Starkey, if you go back out there and try to restore a measure of calm, I shall prepare to celebrate Mass and marry the young couple. They especially will need some encouragement, poor children. I myself must try to make up to them this unfortunate delay in their happy ceremony.”
At the end of the ceremony, as the guests moved out of the church to make their way to the house of Michael and Caitlin Carrick, Father Costello and Dr Starkey both returned to the sacristy. Padraig was sitting on the bench, his head in his hands, staring at the floor between his feet.
“Are you all right, Padraig?” Dr Starkey asked.
Padraig looked up. His face was like a skeleton’s. “So I had another seizure?” he said.
“Yes,” Dr Starkey replied. “A bad one. How do you feel?”
“Tired. Very, very tired. And my head is throbbing.” Padraig looked up at the old priest who stood tall as a maypole. “Did you say Mass for me, Father Costello?”
“I did, Padraig.”
“And the wedding?”
“It went very well.
“Ah, that’s good.” Padraig lowered his black eye-sockets from the tall priest’s face and stared at his own moist, clasped hands. “I never could have done it, you know. I’m glad I asked you to come in my place.” His almost fleshless head jerked round towards Dr Starkey. “I’m so tired, Dr Starkey. I don’t think I’ll go up to the house. Will you apologise for me to Caitlin? And to Michael and the others?”
“I will, Padraig,” Dr Starkey promised. “Now you had better get to your room in the rectory. And I’ll stop by later to see you.”
“Thank you, Dr Starkey.” Padraig stood unsteadily. “All I want to do now is sleep.”
The three men left the church together. A few parishioners who remained in the church, talking in subdued voices, watched them go. Padraig entered the rectory with Father Costello and climbed the stairs to his room. There he rolled over on to his side on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203