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sweety
12-31-2010, 06:17 AM
I read your letter, it left a bad taste in my mouth. The voice in the night was accusing me of drunkenness. "Why are you tormenting me?" I cried as I fell to my knees. ''I'm not subhuman!" I shouted.

That they should talk of me in that way, but they have the right. Don’t they?
I could walk out the gate, and disappear into the night, but my nightmares follow me everywhere.

''The pills, will there be enough...?

I hope you receive this letter in time, you wrote.
In God's name, what do you want of me? Your words leave me cold. Is it your intention to cause me even more grief..? I will not dance to the wind's wild tune. Remembered strife only feeds my melancholy.

You fear for your sanity. Mine is long gone. I still hear the screams in the dead of night. Do you hear them?

Where is the joy of our life now?

How the sunlight caressed her beautiful hair. Insomnia has me in its grip and refuses to let go. Do you sleep? I hope not. Her dreams to be a great dancer never to be fulfilled. O, she was so beautiful!

We were intoxicated with life. In the moonlight we danced to the pipers fairy music from under the dark green tree. You put your arm around her lily-white shoulders and drew her to you.

Do you remember the time the three of us watching the hookers in Galway bay flying their crimsons sails in the beguiling and pretty rippling waters? And skipping over the slippery rocks on Lough Corrib. The flat stones glide best you said and you were right. You were our hero, our big brother. Time had an ebb and flow back then.

We were young, not a care in the world. Till that black day.
Summer-days to be cherished forever. Do they have you in a padded cell..? Is it a cold wind you feel? I shiver at the sight of it.

I found peace in the white-powdered snowy fields of dreams for a while. No more. No, it has become my enemy. Nature is cruel don’t you think? Do we have to grow up..?. It seems more trouble than it's worth.

We ran to the natural spring, drinking the cool water, splashing each-other playfully. But then you wanted a kiss. No, no, was the answer. You didn’t hear. Innocence slowly melting away like the snow in spring.

You carried the Wiseman on your shoulder and we paid the price. We were told that kissing was a sin. And now they tell me drinking is a sin. My melancholic nature worsens with the days. Time stood still at the wrong moment. What does the Wiseman say? Is time a conjuring trick? Neither
then, nor now. My time piece has stopped.

She danced a jig under the bright sparkling sun in her summers dress, the one with the little pink flowers she loved to show off in. We clapped and told her how wonderful she was.

We drank the juice of the barley, our youth gone for ever. It was too quick, I didn’t want to hurry, slow down, let the day have its say. You were wise once, before tasting the forbidden fruit. You kissed her on the lips. Alarmed she pulled away, the magic moments gone forever. The fairy music fading into nothingness, all was lost.

I looked on in shame and fear as you wrestled her to the ground.
You pulled her dress around her waist revealing a naked thigh. Pleading, she wanted you to stop, but you were strong.

Frozen to the ground I watched as purity flew like the sparrow hawk to the wind, the song of the linnet died. The sun felt cold on the bare flesh. Strife replaced joy. Rabbits scurried to their holes. Her screams gave fright to the gods themselves. Then it was over. She lay dead. The terrible act of violence in-bedded forever on my soul.

You ran when you saw her lifeless body. Kneeling beside her I combed her long blond hair, still smelling of hay making. I told her I was sorry for being weak. the tears were still on her cheeks.

"My God what have I done.." you wrote in your letter.

Our poor parents, what about them? Sorrow, horror, despair, shame! We cried at the graveside, you refused to come nor were you wanted.
Did you know our mother fell to the grave below? And our father found oblivion at the bottom of a whiskey bottle? And died in the gutter somewhere.

My soul died under the dark-green tree that day. As my body is now dying from the pills. You must seek your own redemption.

hillwalker
12-31-2010, 10:00 AM
There's a lot of passion embedded in this story - and the slow revelation of the crime it describes is done quite skilfully. The idyllic days before it happened are portrayed particularly well and overall I enjoyed reading this very much.

But at the beginning I felt I needed a map to navigate my way through the plot - who is the narrator? who the letter writer? whose voice accuses him of drunkenness? and who are 'they' who talk of 'me' in that way? I'm not even sure who the 'me' is in that phrase - is it the narrator now or the letter writer?

Since we cannot differentiate the internal dialogue (and in places there's too much of it) from the words in the letter it is indeed a confusing journey - confusing rather than deliberately mysterious.

I'm sure if you were able to address this the story would gain something it lacks at present - a character for the reader to focus his attention on.

But another interesting read.

H

MANICHAEAN
12-31-2010, 10:10 AM
Sweety
You write with the inspiration and sensitivity and blessing of one born of Erin. It moved me deeply. "Gor a ma ha gut" & best wishes for the New Year.
M

sweety
01-01-2011, 08:47 AM
First of all, thank you Hill for reading my short story and taking the time to comment on it.
I know it's a bit confusing at the beginning, but it was done intentionally.
I felt that the story was short enough to read on and then most "ramblings" would be self-explanatory.
Of course it's easy for me to talk, I knew what I wanted to write.

For the readers who are still confused:

My "character" (also narrator) is the younger sibling, who, after receiving a letter from the elder brother (rapist/murderer) replies/talks to him in his head (no time left to write, he took an overdose of pills after reading the letter).

My "they" was meant to convey all the people/journalists who spread rumour and innuendo and wrote about the horrible deed, because the narrator didn't help the sister and he feels guilty.

To Manichaean: Thank you for your kind words "Tada gan iarracht" (nothing is done without effort).:smilewinkgrin:
I want to wish you all a very happy, healthy and prosperous 2011!

hillwalker
01-02-2011, 10:56 AM
Best to you also for 2011.

I can see the desire to keep the reader a little in the dark in order to drip-feed information as the story progresses. it's a good way of hooking us and keeping us wanting to read on.
It was just the 'you' and 'them' that needed a little further clarification - thanks for your patience and for shedding a little more light.

H