Unairred bleeding sweats beneath all skirts in mass today. As the Father continues I wonder if he can sense it. If he is verging on smelling the dewy sap. Does he wonder if we have all walked by Walnut trees sweet with sap coating muddied bark? Does he notice how his ewes seem to squidge in the pews aware of their many layers and their thoughts of airing out their legs? The church is cooler than outside but relief does not furnish withing.
Eofie unsettles her hair in an attempt to submit air to her claggy neck and my gaze falls to Ealga. Despite the truancy of our husbands and fathers who rank for us our place she still occupies the front pew.
Father O'Dowd's mass has remained unaltered with the loss of the men. He still talks of the importance of men and the virtue of a gracious wife. He seems unwilling to see that we attend untitled.
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Woman Scorned
Short StoryEalga is puncturing her stomach with the bones of un-blessed infants. Her barren womb has consumed her. A clustered community grasping to the edge of Ireland has become riddled with superstition. All men of the village must migrate to the mainlan...
