Tales Of The Gurrier

Read The Bogman Pt I

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The black Bedford burst from the undergrowth of the class C trunk road to Ballygroate in a cloud of broken branches and black diesel smoke. Pausing momentarily at a fork in the road Loinseach, the driver, sniffed the air cautiously in contemplation, before hauling the massive steering wheel to the left. For a few brief seconds the van teetered at an alarming angle until traction returned to the balding tires with a squeal of melting rubber and the whole edifice disappeared down another ill defined dirt track, like a shiny, brick shaped, torpedo.

In the back of the van Sean O’Riordan found himself hurled into the air for the umpteenth time since leaving the Agricultural civil service compound and smashed to the metal floor with a bone crunching impact. From the front seat Mac Nessa turned and grinned at Sean’s sickly pallor.

“Grand isn’t it.

‘Oh yes,’ said Sean, he had never been a good traveler and this suicidal, vehicular stampede through the countryside pushed his self control to the limit.

‘ What’s up with yourself then Riordan? You look a bit off.’

“nnnNothing sir” said Sean as another teeth shattering impact sent him tumbling to the floor again.

“Sit down over there on them sacks. It’ll be more comfortable for ye,” said McNessa with a cackle.

Sean eyed the sacks with alarm. They were filled with a viscous, unidentifiable matter, that seeped through their rough hessian material and smelled of very bad things.

“No it’s fine sir,” said Sean shakily, I’ll stand. With that the van executed a hairpin turn and Sean slammed headfirst into the rusty iron farm hammers affixed to the van’s wall.

“Good man,” said McNessa “I wouldn’t sit on them sacks either. Never know what you’d get up with eh. Eh. Ah Jaysus stop the van.”
When Sean opened his eyes again McNessa and Loinseach were peering down at him with worried frowns.

“What happened?” said Loingseach.

“I think he fainted” said McNessa.

“Fainted? What’s he about.”

‘C’mon we don’t have time for this, give him some air or something and I’ll put him on the sacks here’

‘No, no sacksh, I’m grand’ said Sean protesting feebly. Trying to brush their hands away.

Loingseach was making shushing noises and gently battering him in the face with his pork pie hat.

‘What are ye bleeding doing Lowry?’ said Mac Nessa.

‘I’m giving him air, like ye said,’ said Loinseach, who was doing just that. See he’s getting better.’

‘I think you’re scaring him,’ said MacNessa ‘he looks worse now.’

It was true. Sean was sitting upright and pointing at Loinseach. ‘Ahhhhhhh his ears, his ears!’ said Sean with a low moan. ‘Something’s wrong with his ears.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my fucking ears you little shite,’ said Loinseach testily and with that he snatched his hat over his head and stomped back to the cab in a huff.

‘Oh dear,’ said Mac Nessa, ‘you don’t make a very good first impression on people, do you.’

‘His ears, didn’t you see his ears?’ said Sean ‘they were all wrong. They looked all wrong.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Lowry’s ears young man,’ said Mac Nessa sharply ‘and you would do well to keep a civil tongue in your head. Some people are sensitive about their appearance.’

‘But the shape, they looked, they looked like,like.’

‘Oh I know what they looked like. Sure doesn’t everyone know what they look like. The world and his mother knows what Lowry Loingseach’s ears look like.’

‘Lowry Loingseach?’ said Sean blankly.

‘Yes Lowry Loingseach’ said Mac Nessa, slowly pronouncing each word as if Sean were a simpleton. ‘Everyone knows the story, that Labhradh Loingseach has horses ears.’

To be continued…

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It’s good to be back. This is a mere quarter the length it should have been but time constraints, as ever, left me with no choice but to present it to you incomplete. Forgive me. I shall endeavor to complete it by the start of Nanowrimo. Also it being a work in progress I changed a characters name. Martin disappeared and Lowry took his place. Lowry is more interesting than Martin and don’t worry he didn’t suffer. I murdered him in his sleep with a hammer.

This weeks Flickr fiction was tangentially inspired by this photo from flickr user Borghetti. As ever, other inspired Flickr Fiction can be found with my friends Teaandcakes, Elimare, Tadamack, and Aquafortis.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 22nd, 2006 at 9:46 pm and is filed under Flickr Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.