“Oh my holy God!” Fr. Padraig roared as he parted the living room curtains. “What the..?” he blessed himself as he reached for the phone and cranked the handle with religious vigour. “Marie, is that you, will you put me through to Jimmy Byrne please, it’s urgent”.
“Is everything alright Father” Marie asked, concerned by the sound of panic in his voice.
“Oh it’s awful Marie, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s a crime, that’s for sure.” Continue reading I CONFESS →

Jimmy laboured the pint of black. He sat, hunched over the stale glass, staring at the flat cream head. Maloney’s bar was dark with a low, smoke stained, wooden ceiling running front to back. Monday mornings never drew much of a crowd. It was near empty but for a few seasoned pursuers of ‘The Cure’.  Gay Byrne was pontificating from the crackling transistor radio tucked in beside the antique till.
He checked the green packet of ten Major on the bar again, still empty, he flung it along the counter. The thoughts of last night went around in his head. Moira had made it clear. They had been seeing each other for seven years.  “It was time to get off the pot” she’d said before taking the front door off its hinges. Continue reading SHADOWS →

‘Feckin poofs’
Hoofed with studded boot, John F. kicked the worn leathered ball over the pebble cracked school wall of dash, skimming deflected off through thorn bush, bringing the game to an abrupt end.
‘What did you do that for ?’
Jimmy’s shouts fell on deaf flapped ears as John hump-backed off down towards the shop. Continue reading ASH →

“It’s an acorn” Francie mumbles, slipping it carefully inside flapped jacket pocket. “Are we going in or what?”
Mona’s bar of stout draped mahogany, stretches in open view of mirror straddled wall, reflecting shelved half and full bottle and long suffering lines of glass upturned. Smokes of Afton sweet, stacked in bricked nicotine pillars of yellow and Players blue soon to be inhaled.
Men of flat capped tweed, propped in one end, smoke ale and puff soft talk of sheep and rain while straw basketed women of  silken scarf wait patiently in elbowed chat at the other. Mona serving, list by list from scattered queue. Continue reading OAK →