Leaving Ireland -1
By Jackie Harvey
The crows came first. One, then two, then more. Quiet they would be but when they erupted, cawing, into the sky, I knew she was near. Now, I am far away in the middle of the ocean. It is black and iridescent, like the wings of crows I have not seen for many days. There is no sight of land. We sleep surrounded by water and awake with the same. Ireland retreats stealthily into my past, yet it seems we have not moved at all. The summer of 1851 will begin in America, in Boston. Many of my people are there, so maybe I will settle – make it my home. A new start away from her.
Looking back at what drove me to take this voyage, I did not believe what was happening. It was my imagination. It was tricks of the light and the mist and the shadows. That’s all. The sound that burrowed deep into my consciousness was just the wind howling through the trees and the screeching of peacocks and the mating of the foxes. That’s all
But it wasn’t all. No mist, no shadows, no animal sounds. I saw her. I heard her. Even on bright days when the sun should cast away all fear and gloom she was there. Was it just me she haunted? When I tried to sleep, I could sense her presence. If I dared to move my hand from under the bedclothes, her ragged grey robes would surely brush me. If I turned from my pillow her flowing river of ashen hair, smelling earthy like the grave, would fill my nostrils. I laid still and closed my eyes and covered my ears.
Something deadly lurked in my family, all because of me. Stories have long been told about the woman of the fairies and how her appearance heralds death. Some apparitions merely foretell what is destined to happen but others, like the spectral creature haunting me, take malevolent pleasure from the dire consequences of their wailing. It happened here before, long ago, and now, for some reason unknown, the curse has passed to me.
Having survived the famine unscathed, death began to stalk us. My cousin Niamh was first to perish, followed by nephews Liam and Colin. Fever, they said, but I knew. I believed
that if I stayed more and more of my family would be taken. So here I am at sea, as far away from the being as possible. Without her chosen conduit, she can cause havoc no more. Without my presence my kin are in danger no longer, so I hope and pray.
I sit alone thinking and watching the sea and sky as they blend together in the darkness. My beloved Ireland fades ever further. I hear a scream. A sound I never thought I would hear again. Along the deck just behind a lifeboat, I catch sight of a figure. It surely cannot be, but the river of hair silver against the blackness and the fluid grey robes are unmistakable. For a moment, my eyes meet those of the banshee. She screams once more but not before wagging her twisted, bony finger at me. She is in my head. She gloats: ‘You don’t get rid of me that easily. Distance is no barrier. I have no barriers. You are chosen so I, and death, will follow you anywhere – forever.’
A crewman hurries towards me.
‘Mistress, you must come to the cabin quickly.’ There is panic in his voice.
‘What is wrong? Why?’
‘There is a death mistress – in your cabin.’
Author Bio:
I write as both Jackie Harvey and Jacqueline S Harvey.
Mainly short stories with two collections on Amazon and plenty more ready to go. One novel and another to be finished this year.
Writing is good because the only equipment you need to start is pen, paper and imagination.
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