Mark Paren
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I’m happy you are enjoying the story. Thanks for commenting.
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The late afternoon sun slanted low over Donnybrook, turning the stone walls gold and the leaves on the lime trees a soft, burning green. Declan led the way, hands clasped behind his back, pointing out small details with the quiet authority of someone who had studied the city’s layers for years, even if he only visited occasionally. They started from Donnybrook Hall, strolling down the residential stretch of Donnybrook Road. Declan nodded toward the old granite gateposts of a Georgian house.
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We’ll delve a little deeper into the vial in the next chapter. It isn’t a central character in this story, but hints at something significant to come. Thanks for commenting.
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Aiden and Declan know, but won’t admit it to themselves. Thanks for commenting.
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Declan, Aiden, and Cianán returned from Castlebaldwin in the late afternoon. The SUV hummed along the narrow road toward the farmhouse. Rowan had stayed behind to get some work done. Declan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. Aiden sat in the back seat beside Cianán. The windows were cracked, letting in the cool scent of cut grass and distant lake water. Declan glanced in the rearview mirror. “Cianán, can you join us for dinner tonight?” Cia
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You’re so right.
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It’s all around us, both now and in the past. All our stories are built around those tensions. Thanks for commenting.
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Plenty of villains in the Irish mythology. Thanks for the comment.
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Aiden and Declan worked side by side in the second chamber of the tomb, brushing dirt into trays under the glow of the lamps. Every few minutes, Aiden glanced toward the entrance, tracking the sun’s climb across the sky. He still wasn’t sure what Cianàn had meant by “when the sun is high.” Had he misunderstood? His stomach twisted with nerves. So far, the morning finds had been good. There were several pieces of worked flint, plus five perfect amber beads that caught the light like tiny dr
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The Bresnahan’s have their own mythic story and a particular reason to distain Cainàn and his kind. Thanks for the comment..
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Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate it.
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The next morning at breakfast, Aiden poked at his porridge, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “There was this boy last night, at the passage tomb. About my age. I was wondering if you knew anyone living nearby.” Declan’s spoon paused mid-air. His eyes sharpened with concern. “One of the vandals, maybe? The ones damaging the cairns?” “No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t one of the Bresnahans or like them. He was smaller build, like me. He had dark, longish hair.” Declan leaned forward. “
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For this story, the artifacts support the narrative, they aren’t the stars. I’m trying to be more subtle in this one. I hope it doesn’t disappoint the readers. Thanks for commenting.
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This story is intentionally a ‘slow burn’. We’ll see how it goes. Thanks for commenting.
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Aiden woke early again, with the light pale and thin in the bedroom. The house was still, the silence softer now than it had been that first night. He lay for a moment, listening to the faint creak of old beams and the distant sound of a bird. Then he got up, and headed downstairs. Rowan was already at the Aga, stirring a pot. The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee. Rowan turned, startled. “Good morning, Rowan,” Aiden said softly. Rowan smiled, a little sheepish. “Morning, Aiden. You
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The next chapter will open things up. Those familiar with the Irish otherworld may already have an idea of what’s to come. I’m trying not to make the revelations the core of the story.
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You’re right. The table is set and things will start happening.
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The path back from the cairn was quieter than the way up. The wind had dropped, leaving only the soft crunch of their shoes on the grass and the distant call of a crow over the ridge. Aiden walked between Rowan and Declan, hands in his pockets, eyes on the uneven ground. The spiral carving lingered in his mind. Simple lines, but they seemed to turn when he wasn’t looking. He pushed the thought away. It was just a rock. Old. Nothing more. Rowan broke the silence first. “You were quiet back t
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Aiden is traveling along his character arc. He is already different than the boy that left California. The Bresnahan’s (the bullies) have a good reason to be bitter, at least in their own minds. It’s tied to the ancient history of the land.
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Bullies for sure, but they’re so much more. Thanks for commenting.
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Rowan drove along the N4 toward Castlebaldwin. It was late afternoon, and the western sun slanted across the plains, gilding the low hills that rose ahead. Aiden sat on the left, still wired from the flight, staring out at the passing hedges and fields. He hadn’t said much since they left Dublin Airport, just short answers, half-grunts. The radio played low, some folk tune he didn’t recognize. The road curved gently, and without warning the landscape opened on the right. Aiden leaned f
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I’m glad you like the theme. I enjoy writing about things I’m interested in. It allows me to dig into a subject deeper than I normally would. Thanks for the comment.
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Coming soon. Thanks for the comment.
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Aiden isn’t the only one with a story. That’s for the comment.
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Thanks for the comment. I hope I don’t disappoint you.
