Friday, March 27, 2009

Those silly Sidhe

I had to high-step it to make the 6:20 ferry home last night, and, by the time I was making my way up that last hill homeward, my shins were screaming in protest. You’d think it would be your thighs or calves that hurt from ascending and descending hills, but, at least in my case, it was the shins.

Still, it was a pleasant enough walk. The sun was just setting, the island easing into that cool, shadowless gloom just before nightfall. The other travelers had all disappeared off down their respective lanes or away into busses or cars, and I found myself walking alone through the silent, sleeping town. It was then that I heard the wail.

It carried on the evening breeze, a woman’s voice, a beautiful, wordless song. The way it echoed through the trees, between the empty shops, imparted a sad, wavering keen to the melody. I paused for a moment to listen, unable to guess from whence it came. Some evening music class in one of the dark buildings just beyond the trees perhaps? No telling… The pain in my shins made itself noticed again, now that I had stopped.

“Well,” I thought to myself, “you’ve really done it this time. You’ve exercised too much, and now the banshee’s come for you.” Running was out of the question. My only hope was to lure her in close and try a sucker punch. Then again, she’d probably just call the Cóiste Bodhar to come pick me up, and, by that point, had some lambent-headed undead fairy rolled up in a black coach and offered me a ride… I’da considered it.


Post a Comment

<< Home