historical
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“Arash died in his sleep last night, father,” a mild voice echoed in the void, the rich accent dripped into the darkness. “Have his assistant take up his position then, son,” a lower, scratchy voice snipped at the other. “Bahman was mortally wounded falling from a cliff not four nights past in reaching his family’s…
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“Seonaid! She’s beautiful!” Fearchar strolled in through the door with pride. His wife raised a skeptical eyebrow. Eoin snorted at the man’s enthrallment. “Have you finally taken up with Anna down the way?” she teased. “No one will ever replace you.” Fearchar reached for her, spinning her in the tight space until her skirts ballooned…
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The sun seeped through the seams of the shuttered window and door as Eoin awoke the next morning. He lazily observed the sleeping couple wrapped around each other. Drifting to the realization he had taken them into his dreams and memories, he glanced about the space, free of the peripheral blinders he had worn for…
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The house lay dark save for the banked fire. Eoin eased himself in through the door to be greeted by Seonaid and Fearchar cuddled on the floor in front of the hearth. They looked up at him and smiled as he entered. Eoin ducked a nod of hello.
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The weeks passed, uninterrupted of any more phenomenal events. Eoin kept busy with his clients that made their way to Seonaid’s house. He travelled into town with Fearchar to remedy a few of the old women who had taken to their beds with complaints of arthritis and winter cough.
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Late into his second month in Fearchar and Seonaid house, a woman knocked at Seonaid’s door one day to Eoin’s surprise. He flinched in distaste, recognizing her. She was older but still prim and smug. Seonaid turned tail and closed the door to the bedroom before the woman could see her.
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Dry grasses whispered in the warm wind. The sun seeped along the edge of the horizon. Sand scattered beneath his shoes. The bird at his arm shifted, the creature’s hooded head twisting at the noise, sending the knotted tassel bobbing.
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Fearchar led Eoin to the croft entrance as the first sprinkling of rain descended on the hillside. Swept and well kept, the sill stone gleamed beneath small autumn flowers, absorbing the leftover warmth of the sun. He noted a few simple medicinal herbs and cold-weather vegetables tucked under rambling grass heads and shrubs. A hook…
Chapel Orahamm 