“No one here is alone
Satellites in every home
Yes the universal’s here
Here for everyone”
Damon Albarn / Graham Leslie Coxon / Alexander Rowntree David / Alexander James Steven
I woke with a jolt.
Panic.
I’d been at a black tie awards dinner with my Soulmate where everyone asked her where she’d gotten her dress, and my Monsters Inc – Adidas. We were due to sit at a table with Emmet and Grainne and spoke to them briefly in the crowded entrance to the hall, but got separated in the flow. We were supposed to sit at Table 9 but it was already full and all of the people seated at it were adamant that they were supposed to be there, so we moved on to a smaller table where we were welcomed by three friends , Michelle, Aoibhinn, and Charlene, who marvelled at Eileen’s dress , but steadfastly ignored my shoes.
After half an hour of being ignored by the waiting staff I decided to go and get us a drink. There was a small order pad on the table with a little blue pen, like the ones you used to get in the Credit Union to fill in your deposit slip, so I asked all of the girls what they wanted. I wrote down Vodka & Tonic x 3, G&T ( for Eileen) …that’s just for your reference, I didn’t write that bit in brackets on the order pad, and a Guiness for myself. The pen was wonky. The ink came out intermittently and left more of an imprint of writing rather than script…exactly like the ones in the Credit Union.
As I got up to go to the bar I saw that Fintan Hamill and Fintan O’Donnell were sitting at the next table with three people I didn’t know , so I asked them what they’d like to drink as well, and scrawled on the pad a bottle of Corona, another pint of Guinness and three more Vodka Tonics. I told them I’d be back in a few minutes and then spotted Brenda and AnnaMarie , Dominic ,and Margaret sitting amongst a table of 10 and couldn’t pass them without offering them a drink. They said ‘No , don’t be silly’, and then started shouting out G&Ts, glasses of Chardonnay, pints of Guinness, Moretti, and several more Vodka Tonics. I scratched it all into my pad, as my Credit Union pen was now gathering more paper on its nib than it was writing on.
I made it to the bar and after arguing with the barman that it was table staff order only, and getting him to agree to let me order, discovered that I couldn’t read my own scrawls. I knew that there were a fair few Vodka tonics, but couldn’t recall exactly what everyone else ordered and he started tapping the bar and saying ‘Well ???’. A waitress came up and said ‘Hey that’s my order pad !’ , so I handed her the pad and pen and apologised. She started to write something and then looked at the pen , then at me and started to cry “My grandfather gave me this pen…and you’ve ruined it !”.
I started to half apologise and half argue back that it was only a wee Credit Union pen that they had jars of to fill in your deposit slip.
“My grandfather died on his way home from paying my university fees in the Credit Union and this pen is all I have left of him !!!” She was hysterical now, and waving the pen above her head. A crowd was gathering.
“You Granda stole a pen from the Credit Union ???” I said , before I realised.
“HOW DARE YOU !!!”
That’s when I woke up.
It took me a good few minutes to realise that it wasn’t a memory, it had been a dream. But until that realisation my panic and shame at the ‘memory’ had been very real.
I tend to do that a lot, as in get stressed about things that may not , or never have happened…not , I hasten to add, insult the memory of a table waitress’s deceased kleptomaniac grandfather. And each time I promise myself that I will approach the next event more calmly, rationally.
And then I don’t.
I am getting better at it though….I think.
This has been a busy week. There have been pressing worky things that wouldn’t have been so pressing if I’d done them last week when I was supposed to. There have been pressing voluntary/community things that have been very, very pressing that wouldn’t have been so pressing if anyone had done them at any point over the last three years ! And there have been pressing personal matters involving the passing of a great friend’s mother and looking after him which took priority over everything else.
In the midst of all of this , at some point, I listened to this week’s ‘Data over Dogma’ podcast where two men called Dan chat in a very friendly fashion about the history behind various biblical passages. It’s a lot more entertaining than it sounds. This week’s episode was about the chapters of the book of Genesis relating to Noah’s Ark. It sparked an old memory of the time when Jake was making his Confirmation ( for my non-Catholic/non-Irish readers, this religious sacrament takes place when you are around 11 years of age, and usually in the last year of primary school, and is to confer the wisdom of the Holf Spirit, or the Holy Ghost , on these young folk ). At Sunday dinner , around this time , Jake and I were chatting about the Old Testament, and Elliott, who was 6 at the time said :
“You know Noah’s Ark ?”
Yes.
“And all the animals ?”
Yes.
“How did he get the kangaroos , without discovering Australia ?”
Sometimes you just have to laugh.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This is ‘Panic’ by the wonderful ‘The Smiths’…before Morrissey went nuts.
P.P.S This is this week’s audio blog, from 2022 ‘There You Go Love’
P.P.S Our ‘Haunting’ preparations are now in full swing for HallowE’en. Here’s a story I wrote about Rossmore Park. I liked it as I wrote it, and seem to remain a minority of one.
The Bargain
At one time in Ireland the Rossmores owned Monaghan town and half the county, but that time has passed.
In the grounds of the old Rossmore Estate, in the family’s graveyard Jake finds that the end is only the beginning…if a bargain can be made.
There was only one thing Jake loved better than a good night’s sleep, and that was an exquisite dream. Jake was a great dreamer and , as you’d expect, had great dreams. The one he was having now was particularly good.
Jake was sitting in a bombed out kitchen smoking a fine cigar. The door behind him explodes inwards, but he’s not alarmed, and the Duke wades in through the debris. He sniffs the air and then glares at Jake “Is that a Heinkel ?”
“It is.”
“I thought there were only three left.”
“Two now.” Jake reaches into his inside pocket, the Duke raises his gun in alarm. “Easy tiger” Jake slowly takes a small metal cylinder from his pocket and offers it to the Duke, “Would you settle for a Hidleberg ?”
“I thought they were all gone” The Duke says, grabbing it greedily and twists the end off and takes out the cigar and rolls it under his nose , inhaling deeply.
Jake offers him a light and they both inhale and then exhale plumes of blue grey smoke.
Looking up, through a hole in the shattered roof they see though the haze a glimpse of golden lines in a grid in the clouds.
“The Factory.”
“The factory ?” The Duke asks.
Jake opens his mouth to reply but is distracted by a dull knocking.
“Yes, the Factory , where we once made things, now we simply….” His voice trailed off. There was that knocking again. Louder this time. Much louder. It becomes deafening and Jake reaches to put his hands up to protect his ears but finds that his arms seem to be confined to his sides. He is now fully aware that he’s not in a kitchen, he’s no longer dreaming. He feels that his eyes are open but everything is black. He is struggling to move, but can only seem to move his arms or legs inches in any direction , fear takes hold, he attempts to lift his head, but bumps into something soft, but firm only an inch or two after he starts to move.
With a shock of recognition he knows he’s in a coffin. He screams, and screams , and screams.
After a few moments he stops in panicked exhaustion.
There’s a knock. And another.
“Hello ?”
“Hello there ! Aren’t you coming out ? We’re all dying to meet you !” There’s a lot of muffled laughter.
“Can you help me, I seem to be stuck ?”
“Oh goodness, yes, yes, what was I thinking ? Close your eyes and count to three.”
One, two…
There’s a shock, like jolt of electricity , and suddenly Jake is standing in a dark forest with a gang of people gathered in front of him , eyes wide in hope and expectation. He blinks a number of times. One of the gang steps forward, a man in an old fashioned tweed three piece suit, he extends his hand in greeting, smiles and says “ William Westenra, 6th Baron Rossmore, and damn glad to meet you, Sir!”, again there was muffled laughter from everyone else.
“Jake Bond. Where am I and what is going on ???”
“Well Mister Jake,” the 6th Baron replied , turning, his arm aloft “ this is our little graveyard, and you are our most welcome , and most recent resident.”
“I’m dead ???”
“Very astute this one.” The 6th Baron said, to yet more nervous, muffled laughter from the others. “I like him already.”
“Is this…a dream ?”
Again, there is much muffled laughter, “No Mister Jake. This is very real, and dare I say, wonderful ?”
“Wonderful ? I’m dead !”
“Yes Mister Jake, but your death is such a delight to us ! We’ve been waiting since 1958 for you to arrive.”
“I don’t..”
“Understand ? Of course you don’t, how could you ? Would you like me to explain ?”
“Please.”
The 6th Baron was about to speak, but seemed to become aware of the others gathering closer, he turned and hissed “Be gone ! Wait by the wall.” The others turned and shuffled slowly past gravestones, until they reached the far wall, a short distance away, and then lined up along it, facing the wall.
“Are they…OK ?”
“Them ? Don’t concern yourself with them, they’re mine, they’ll soon be Hers, and you will have to start on gathering your own.”
“Her ?”
“We’ll come to that. This, as I’m sure you know, is the Rossmore graveyard, on the Rossmore estate. My father, the 5th Baron, curse his good intentions, built this mausoleum and graveyard here in 1872 in honour of his brother, the 4th Baron, who died far too young at the age of 23, in a steeple chasing accident over in Windsor Castle. What my father didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that this site was Her’s, and she commands a price of servitude and souls in order to be released to where we should be…or rather where I should be. You see ?”
Jake was about to say he did not, but quickly realised that the 6th Baron hadn’t finished.
“Shortly after he’d laid out the graveyard and interred his brother Henry in the Mausoleum, his dreams were tortured by Henry’s pleas for company in the graveyard. He explained to my father that She had been disturbed, and was extracting a heavy price from him, his only relief would come when twenty other souls were interred with him. They would be devoured by her, and he would be released. My father compounded his first travesty in siting the graveyard here, by promising to aid his brother.
“Since 1872 favoured servants, those people”, he said casually pointing at the others lined up facing the wall, “cousins, some suitable neighbours, and distant family members have been ‘invited’ to be buried here, and each and every one enslaved to Her. She demanded service and sacrifice, became powerful and relished each new arrival. She devoured our memories, thrived on our fears, and then…well, as you know, the house became too much, there was the Great War, the ridiculous War of Independence, inheritance tax, your Civil War, and no one was buried here for quite some time. She did not like that. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
The 6th Baron stopped for a moment and cast a glance towards the others.
“My father, after he’d conveyed enough bodies here to release Henry, and before he himself died, had made a bargain with her, through dark magic, twenty more souls for her amusement, in return for the release of the last Baron to be interred here, assuming it would be his very good self. She agreed. But with the fall in our prestige, rank, wealth, and the very house itself, he ran short. He’d only persuaded twelve families to bury their own loved ones here when he felt his own time running out. So he did what he always did. He looked after himself. He was buried in Westminster. And, more importantly, failed to mention anything to me. So I trundled on , lived a life in other , gradually smaller houses and estates, but with the romantic notion of being buried here among my kin.”
He laughed bitterly before continuing.
“So I arrived, unaware, just as you have now, to discover that I had this damned dozen following me around, depending on me to mitigate her demands, and to find a way to get to twenty, otherwise I would end up simply like them, fodder and entertainment for Her, with no hope of release. That’s when I began my terrible task, luring souls here to meet their untimely…and well, you’re the ninth, so it’s over.”
He smiled at Jake apologetically and finally added “Any questions ?”
Jake stared at the 6th Baron for a moment “Many. But , and I have no idea why, most importantly you said you needed eight souls to make it to twenty for Her, so that you could be released ? So why am I the ninth ?”
“Oh very good ! Well spotted ! Didn’t I tell you he was clever ?” he said turning to the others for approval, before realizing that he’d banished them to the wall. “Oh. Well , you see, even She realised that it was getting to be a struggle to get anyone new here, and that if I did manage to do it, that she’d be on her own again, so I did a bargain of my own with her. Instead of requesting to be freed , as entitled to do, on the acquisition of the 20th soul, I asked that , if it were possible, as I suspected it would be, that providing Her with a new…a new.. ‘Procurement officer’ , if you will, that She would do me the great service of ‘finding’ my father and , well, what She agreed to do will remain between us. She agreed readily. And here you are.”
“But how did you ‘lure’ me here, I have no memory of it ?”
“Oh that was easy. In general , you can make suggestions in peoples’ very own dreams, that prove to be incredibly effective. But , you, you actually arrived here of your own volition, I mean , physically arrived here in the graveyard, and well, then it was simply a matter of making you ‘slip’ near the waterfall, and “et voilà” ! If you had been the eighth I would have enjoyed finding out what you had come here for, but now, I don’t have the time, and , to be quite honest, I don’t care. Here She comes !”
And with that the 6th Baron strode purposefully towards the far wall and barked at the others to turn around. A form of dull grey light seemed to rise between where Jake was standing and the others were now waiting. It had a shroud shape but was distorted, faint, and flickering. They were agitated in their excitement and as the shroud moved close to the first in the line , a chap who appeared to Jake to be a decrepit Victorian butler, an arm shape raised and touched his shoulder. He evaporated on contact with the shroud. It’s shape became slightly clearer, and brighter. The arm raised again and a hand touched the second of the others. It evaporated and the shape became sharper again. As it moved down the line and touched other after other, it became clearer and more distinct. It was definitely female, and dressed in what looked to Jake like the sleek, slender elegance of old Dior or Chanel. She proceeded along the line until she radiated with such brilliance that by the time she reached the twentieth, Jake could no longer look at Her directly.
There was the sound of a great rush of air, which ended in a loud , deafening clash of symbols. Jake looked over. She now looked very much alive, albeit beautiful and dressed like a 1950’s Hollywood star. Which now that he saw Her with the 6th Baron in his three piece tweed suit, seemed fitting.
She smiled at the 6th Baron and offered her hand, he bowed and kissed it, then raised his head and smiled.
“Goodbye.” He said, and then he started to glow, dully at first, but within seconds so bright and dazzling that , again, Jake could not look directly, and then , just as quickly he was gone.
She now turned to Jake. She shimmered as she walked towards him, and almost imperceptibly her clothing changed so that by the time she stood opposite him she was dressed as modernly as he was.
“It’s you.” He finally said. “It really is you, isn’t it ?”
“Yes.” She replied.
“Where is the 6th Baron ?”
“Everywhere and nowhere, all at once.” She said and twirled around her arms outstretched.
“I knew it !” Jake said triumphantly, before adding quietly “And the others ? “
“Here.” She raised a finger to her temple. “And there” looking down on the ground, and gently kicking away some dirt.
“Éabha…Eve” He said eventually, not as a question.
She nodded. “I must say, you seem remarkably content, and even excited, for someone in your position.”
“Oh , you have never, in your wildest dreams met anyone as excited as I am now. And you will be soon.”
“What a presumptuous little soul you are.” She snorted. “I thought the Baron had explained what task is ahead of you if you hope to share his escape. You know it took him sixty years ? Sixty years during which he watched me gradually strip every memory, hope, faith and feeling each one of his entourage had, before starting on him ? And his foul father had given him a twelve soul head start. You should be on your knees , begging that I set your target lower !” She seemed to glow brighter.
“I do not want release.”
“Fool ! Everyone wants release.”
“Ten thousand souls !”
She laughed, and laughed, gently at first, then louder, maniacally, so loud that Jake had to close his eyes and hold his hands over his ears. It stopped, he opened his eyes to find her so close to him that he could feel his neck and cheek burn with the cold.
“Do not trifle with me, Soul.” She whispered. “This is your only warning. Now what bargain do you seek ? How many souls can you offer ?” She pulled back from him slowly , but stayed, staring, only inches from him.
“I was not ‘lured’ here, I sought you out. I would like to know what you will offer me for ten thousand souls ?”
She bore into him with her gaze. He could feel her enter his very essence. Eventually she said “You mean it. How?”
“What will you offer me ?”
“Reincarnation, unimaginable wealth , eternal life…with ten thousand souls I would be all powerful, I could offer you anything.”
“A partnership ? An equal partnership.”
“That’s impossible !”
“You said anything.”
“But…”
“Twenty thousand souls.” Jake interjected and held out his hand to seal the bargain.
She took his hand, smiled, and said “Bargain. Now how ?”
He put his hand in his trouser pocket and took out a sleek black rectangle with a glass face. He clicked a button and it glowed.
“We will have an entourage of millions through this, and so many of them will offer their very souls to you that you will struggle to keep up.”
She stroked the tiny machine, kissed him gently on the cheek, and said “Begin.”
