The Journal of Michael O'Shane

Journal Entry – June 24, 2010

“Flynn has found a way back through the ether. And things have vastly changed.”

I remember sitting across from my brother Victor, hearing those words spoken to me just over a month ago. The apologetic way he looked at me, paired with the way his voice hardened at the delivery of his words, would have been enough to make me wince, but my mind couldn’t process the actual meaning of the words themselves. A dam of denial buckled, but refused to burst.

“Brother, I know we are not above jesting, you and I, but this is one joke I do not appreciate,” I said. I frowned at Victor.

Peter joined the discussion. “Dear brother, I can assure you we would never state as such to you in jest.”

“Nonsense.” My eyes shot to Peter, annoyance brewing in the storm forming within my gaze. “This shouldn’t be possible.”  I looked at Victor again. “What do you mean ‘back through the ether’? He shouldn’t even exist any longer.”

Victor nodded. “He should not, from what Peter explained of the merge, yet he does. During an idle conversation looking back on the past year, his name was spoken. And he returned.” He quirked half a smile. “I nearly jumped out of my skin when it happened.”

Memories flashed through my mind of eight months prior to that discussion. I remember Peter and Victor sitting in my study, Peter drawing a deep breath and shutting his eyes as he prepared to kill his alter ego and integrate their personalities. As I watched my brother begin the struggle, I couldn’t help but feel my stomach sink, as though I was finally having a chance to bury old demons. ‘Goodbye, Flynn,’ I thought, glancing away for a moment lest Victor see the look in my eyes. ‘I wonder if I should feel as apathetic about watching you die as you did me.’ My sentiments might have startled me if I hadn’t been used to them by that point. I alone knew the truth and now the time had come to bury it in the ground.

For all intents and purposes, he was gone. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I never bothered to mask my loathe of him, but I hid behind the guise of telling others I despised him for the simple fact that he killed me. If not for The Fates, I would still be dead.

Simple fact, that. Compared to the full truth, it was indeed simple.

“You’re sure it was him?” I asked Victor, half-frowning, half-scowling, but attempting to rein in my crumbling reserve; swiftly reaching the point of not caring about my composure. I sighed and looked away. “Of course, I highly doubt Peter would play such a practical joke on you.” My eyes remained focused on the opposite wall, those old feelings beginning to strangle me. I squared my jaw and nodded once. “What called the devil back from the depths of hell where he belongs? A simple idle conversation mentioning his name? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Brother, it is exactly as Victor has said it to you,” Peter said.

“Nonsense. Utter nonsense.”

“He wanted to know why I was speaking of him,” Victor said.

“Oh, did he?” I stood and paced away, folding my arms across my chest. I refused to look at Peter and Victor. “I hardly see what he would stand to gain from being an interloper on an idle discussion.”

There was a pause before Victor responded. “From my understanding, he was not eavesdropping. It was the first conversation that caught his attention in all these months.” He hesitated briefly. “Because I said I somewhat missed bantering with him.”

My attention snapped back to Victor, an eyebrow raised. “How is it possible he heard any discussion? How is it possible he even exists? I fail to wrap my head around this, brother. And even more so how you could miss anything about that loathsome creature.” ‘I thought you hated him, too.’

He tensed slightly, then relaxed. “I know it is difficult to appreciate, brother, but I truly never did begrudge Flynn his existence, and I always respected him. I have no notion of what whim of the cosmos has allowed him to continue to exist, but I promise you that he does. And we are all here tonight because this time, he has been invited to stay.”

His words sent a blow to my stomach. I tried to shake it off, while unable to stop my facial expression from falling. Rage bubbled to the surface, barely suppressed. “By whose decree?”

Victor met my gaze measure for measure, his chin rising in something of a challenge, though he remained seated. “Mine. With Peter’s consent.”

I stared at him for a long time before disappointment filtered through my gaze. “Brother, what in God’s name are you thinking? I thought you much more sober-minded than that.”

The words impacted Victor. I watched them sting him, his expression falling slightly. The look in his eyes turned sober, somewhat apologetic. I wanted to sneer in revulsion. ‘You have no idea why you should even be sorry, Victor.’ “Things have changed, brother, I promise you,” he said. “In ways that I would have told you were impossible a year ago.”

I shook my head. “Flynn does not change, Victor. Flynn might mask himself for a time, but the moment your guard is down, he claims precisely what he came there for.” ‘I know this better than most.’ I sighed. “For all you know, he might have been waiting in the wings for a summon and is now delighted you’ve all fallen for the ruse that he comes in peace. Change and Flynn do not reside in the same reality.” ‘I made the mistake of thinking that once before. I made the mistake of thinking so many things could change.’

Victor quirked a half smile. “Then it is probably a good thing he has not been a part of this reality for some time.” His gaze turned cautious, not entirely pleading. “Meet him, brother. Talk to him and judge for yourself. We came here tonight with Flynn’s knowledge, and his willingness to stand in front of you and assert the truth for himself.”

Blinking, I raised an eyebrow. I murmured, not trusting my voice to speak much louder. “The devil listens to our discussion, brother? Have you come to trust him this much?” I looked away, trying to mask the pain in my eyes. “I have nothing to say to him. He can pull his tricks on you all you want to your downfall, but I know precisely the sort of monster you’re consorting with.”

Victor pushed to a stand. I looked back in time to see his temper flaring. “Do you think I would trade anything in this world just to consort with a devil, brother? That I would condemn Peter to sharing his body with a monster of nefarious intentions toward anyone in this room?”

I finally allowed my eyes to meet his again. “I don’t know what to think about this madness. We all agreed he was better banished or merged or whatever in the name of The Fates happened to him. Now you’ve granted him passage to stay?”

“I have.” Victor nodded. “Brother, when I say things have changed, it is doing the sum total of the situation an injustice. Flynn is looking at this world with new eyes, and a changed heart. He feels, Robin. I swear to you. And he wants another chance simply to experience what this world has to offer, not for decadence and blood, but in things that are worthwhile.”

‘He feels? For you, you mean.’ I frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

“Brother…” Peter spoke with a hint of irritation in his voice which only served to wound me further. “Would I be sitting here, so calm, if I suspected Flynn had nefarious intent? Who knows him better than I do? Not even you, Robin. You do not believe Victor, then fine, speak to Flynn for yourself and see. However, I believe you owe Victor an apology once all is said and done.”

Shaking my head, I glowered at Peter. “I care about the well-being of you all. Victor, you, John… Being under the same roof with that demon…”

“Who has changed, dear brother.” Peter sighed. “One chance. A few minutes, a few questions. Whatever it might take.”

I gritted my teeth. “You want me to talk to him? Then let him out.”

Victor nodded once at me, offering me a parting gaze which was somewhat unreadable. Looking at Peter, I watched him relax and felt a slight tinge of guilt over my behavior toward Victor. He took a deep breath and nodded, issuing a soft half-smile. I watched a silent form of communication be exchanged between them, undoubtedly telepathic, before Victor stepped close and took hold of Peter’s hand. “Flynn,” he said in a firm summon. “It’s time.”

Peter shut his eyes, a placid smile on his face until his eyes fluttered open again. He nodded once at Victor, but the look in his eyes had changed, something I couldn’t distinguish right away, but knew possessed the glint characteristic of Flynn. I squared my shoulders. ‘So, you return, assassin.’ I scowled with intense animosity at him when that gaze locked with mine and felt a flash of anger at how calmly he spoke. “Well… a party,” Flynn said, “And I have been invited. Although, it would seem certain receptions have turned chillier than I remember them.”

Victor shut his eyes, but smirked slightly. My eyes widened, then relaxed. ‘Glad to see you’re enjoying this, brother,’ I thought as he straightened his posture and his expression turned more neutral. He glanced at Lily first, then looked at me, pausing for a moment before saying, “I trust you at least believe this is not Peter playing a joke.”

I stared coldly at Flynn, swallowing hard once before nodding. “No, I know this devil far too well for me to say that. As for chilly receptions, I am hard-pressed to think of any reason why you deserve anything but.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough, Robin. I did not expect you would be entirely pleased to see me and I cannot say I fault you.” He looked toward Lily. I tensed immediately. “Not to deviate from the matter at hand, but simply because I like to know precisely who I might be facing…” He smirked. “Assassins become irritable when there are too many unknowns in the equation.” His smirk relaxed. “But would this be Delilah by chance?”

‘Leave her alone, you bastard.’ My thoughts practically screamed the words. Victor nodded at Flynn. “It is indeed,” he said. “And Delilah, this is Flynn.” He smiled slightly. “Though he does borrow Peter’s form.”

Lily took a deep breath, then studied Flynn curiously. “And yet, he is definitely not Peter,” she said. I watched her smile and felt my heart sink while desperately trying to mask the reaction from my lover, knowing our blood bond to be potent enough for my feelings to betray me. Her eyes shifted from Flynn to Victor and back again. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not appropriately impressed, but I never thought I would meet you.”

He nodded once. “If my mission was to impress by virtue of my reputation, I would have granted you a far different show, I promise.” Flynn hummed. “I find myself in a far different position, however. You being the exception, the others gathered here have seen enough of my darker side. Flaunting it around would not only be counter-intuitive, but redundant. I wish to make amends. View me in a far more contrite posture.”

I blinked. “Why?” I asked. “What is your game, Flynn? What do you stand to gain from this charade?”

He regarded me with a sober expression on his face. “To answer your question would be to grant this is a charade. I will, however, respond to why I wish to make amends.” Flynn glanced at Victor and drew in a deep breath, then turned his attention to Lily and me. “I have been granted a second chance with far more extraordinary consequences than I dared imagine. A chance to know the children; a chance to bridge the gulf between us as brothers. And…” His gaze shifted back to Victor and I frowned, anticipating what he was to say next by the look I saw in his eyes. A look I never once saw directed at me. “… To experience love and revel in it, in depths I never knew I was capable of experiencing.”

Those words impacted like a sharpened edge, like the sword he had used to slaughter me twenty years in the past. I felt like stumbling backward, but stood completely still, hiding my pain behind loathe and my sadness behind utter hatred.

I have written several times in the past the phrase, ‘I wish I could have loved Peter the way he needed.’ There is a modicum of hypocrisy in the statement. In enumerating the list of people I’ve held at least a passing infatuation for, I’ve mentioned Sabrina and Timothy, Katerina and my enchanted night with Éilis. The reason I’ve qualified my relationship with Peter as being brothers and only that has much to do with what he became after I was brought back from the dead. The being I first encountered wasn’t the brother I remembered. In becoming a seer, Peter’s humanity morphed the vampire before me into a completely different creature. One I could only look upon, affectionately, as my immortal sibling.

The Flynn I knew, however… We had a history. When Sabrina first turned him, we hated each other and did nothing to mask that from one another. I called him a deathless mortal when his first few weeks found him conscience-laden. He called me pompous and arrogant, and lost in the past. Our animosity culminated in a sword match and when he managed to best me, I named him Flynn. It was meant to be an insult; I was naming him for our eldest immortal sibling, Patrick Flynn, whom Sabrina regarded as a mistake. ‘Your very existence is a mistake,’ was the silent jab I threw at him.

He, in turn, called me Robin.

I don’t know what it was about taking on the name of a brigand which changed things, but I slowly began taking him under my wing and training him to be a proper immortal. I taught Flynn how to use a sword until his abilities eclipsed mine. And I watched with pride as he started besting the instructors we flew in from the four corners of the world to make him a highly trained assassin. He might as well have been my child after a time, but just as these sentiments rose up within me, he became so loyal to Sabrina, I had to choke them back.

It didn’t make them go away, however. I spent the next four years protecting him, running errands for him if just to make sure I kept a sharp eye on what he was doing. When I was christened an elder by the surrounding covens, I realized how dangerous of a being Flynn was and had one chance to kill him, lest he bring about Armageddon. I couldn’t do it, though. I held a knife behind my back with one hand settled on his shoulder, but I tucked the blade away and joined him for a hunt instead. That was the moment I realized the truth.

I wanted to love him. I wanted to pray one day he’d love me. I prevented Matthew’s coven from calling for his execution even after how many vampires he had slaughtered as an assassin. I did it all because for one brief, shining moment he finally betrayed his loyalties to Sabrina and let me conspire against her, telling me he wanted to be free. Mired in indecision, he didn’t know what to do with his new seer abilities and didn’t want to be anybody’s pawn. Daring myself to act upon my feelings for him, I offered him the neutrality he sought.

“I could use a bodyguard, Flynn,” I said as we stood on the streets of Philadelphia. “Not an assassin, but someone to help make the transition from Sabrina’s leadership to mine more seamless.”

He blinked. “You plan on taking the helm?”

I nodded. “I am her second.” I gazed at him across the expanse, my expression soft, entreating. “Would you be my guardian as I have been yours these past few years?”

He stared at me, searching me for what felt like endless minutes. I sensed his hesitation and continued, “No seducing. No manipulation.” ‘I love you, Flynn, and could never do that to you.’ “You wouldn’t be my servant, you would be my friend. I only seek your defense, Flynn, not for you to be a strong arm for my whims.” I paused, a solemn grin rising to the surface. “Unless your human destiny calls first to snatch you away.”

“Bah.” He flicked the notion away with the capricious flip of his hand. I almost chuckled. I knew how he felt about being drafted by the Supernatural Order. “Human destinies are for mortals and I am hardly mortal any longer.” He studied me again, a pensive look on his face. “Only a bodyguard and nothing more?”

“As surely as you named me Robin and I named you Flynn, I will never ask for you to be an assassin again.”

He nodded, discarding a cigarette he had been smoking. Flynn glanced away, then looked back at me. “I shall not stand in your way as the assassination is carried out. And, when you are finished, my sword will be used for your protection.”

I could not suppress the grin. “You agree then, brother?”

He smiled, too, and nodded. “Yes, I agree, Robin.”

A flash of sheer delight raced through me. I embraced him before he could protest, ignoring the awkward way he fell into it and patted his back as I thought of the feel of him in my arms. ‘It might take decades, but maybe someday you might enjoy being in mine.’ I pushed away before being tempted to kiss his neck or slide my hands across his back. They settled on his shoulders instead. “Very good, Flynn,” I said. I chuckled. “This is so much better than the thought of meeting you again someday as your adversary.”

He laughed. “I should say so, for your sake.”

The moment of jesting provoked a bout of laughter from me, in part because I knew exactly what I was thinking in that moment. “I can’t argue that much.” I sighed, relieved. “Oh goodness. This is the best I’ve felt in decades. Finally this can all be put behind us and the covens can be at peace.” I risked the chance of adding in my thoughts, ‘And maybe you might see me as something other than your brother with Sabrina out of the way. But only when you’re ready, Flynn.’

As I laid down to rest that morning, I thought of the veritable Pax Romana which laid before us. With Sabrina’s reign of terror ended, I would take over and would lead my immortal siblings as their mentor and friend. I figured Louis might be my second, or Matthew himself could send one of his children over to help me lead. And Flynn would stand guard as my closest confidante.

I had a week to muse on this thought; just one week to lose myself in possibility, daydreaming about the years to follow. I saw the day I could finally look Flynn in the eyes and tell him how I felt, his startled reaction, but him sinking closer, our lips meeting as I dared him to consider what loving me might be like. The first feverish coupling, his body finally mine to explore, and then lying in bed with him, hearing him joke about being the coven master’s consort. I pushed these thoughts out of the way the closer we came to Sabrina’s judgment hearing.

Seeing Flynn enter the room that night, though, completely shattered them.

I knew, with him armed the way he was, that something had changed in the week between our last talk and his entrance into the meeting hall. I remained too shocked, though, to do anything about it. He drew his sword and ran it through Matthew first before the other five coven masters, their seconds, and their bodyguards were decimated by Flynn. By the time I knocked myself out of my stupor to fetch a sword, I was the only one remaining. I begged of him to reconsider.

He responded by running me through the chest with a sword.

I felt the blackness leeching through me, second death encroaching fast, with me turning to ash from the inside out. My final words to him were all the explanation I had a chance to offer. “I loved you as a brother, Flynn.” My final words; as close as I could come to telling him how I felt. I died that night with no hope of returning, until The Fates had other plans for me.

The person I returned to help was Peter. Now a fully-realized seer, I didn’t detect a trace of the assassin I had known. To prevent myself from becoming bitter, I treated him as a wholly separate person and dismissed all thought of Flynn. Even when the assassin became a split personality in Peter’s mind. I never spoke to Flynn directly. I avoided him at all costs. And I heartily encouraged the personality merger Peter and Victor placed in front of me as their way to make Peter whole again. After twenty years of shadows, I thought everything would be finished now.

Seeing him back only ripped the wounds open again.

I’ve watched in the periphery as he moves about among us, as though he deserves to be there. His arms wrapped around Victor… I don’t begrudge Victor at all what he shares with Flynn because I’m genuinely glad to see Flynn finally experience emotion. Victor looks exactly as I imagined myself in all those daydreams and my care for Victor as a brother makes me happy for his sake. I simply can’t let go of the shadows of the past for some reason.

It clouded my judgment to the point that I did something completely thoughtless last week. Flynn has been inhabiting his former lover Gabrielle’s body and Victor and Peter brought him over to ask Lily if she could furnish some temporary clothing for him. A redheaded woman, of all things. I could have cut the irony with a knife if I would have asked Flynn to furnish a blade. Somehow, our discussion looped around to the carnal as we sized up the assassin in the form of a female. I followed the compulsion to join Victor as he lured Flynn into the bedroom.

Yes, I finally had that coupling. Only it wasn’t as feverish and wasn’t as rich of an experience as I had the scene painted in my head. But I stole it because I felt it was my right, as though he owed me something after all the hell I’d endured because of him. Before the door even had a chance to shut, I knew I’d made a mistake, however, and this was only reaffirmed when Lydia had a poor reaction to hearing about what I’d done. She called me thoughtless and I attempted to tell her I thought of her all the time.

She nodded curtly in response to the last thing I’d said. “Right. Well.” She paused, then the words rushed out as a torrent. “But in regard to me being a thought… thanks for taking that an overarching accusation. To clarify, I was trying to say that when you fucked Flynn, you were thinking with your…” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Whatever. I get it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Lydia, I wasn’t thinking with that particular portion of my anatomy.” Realizing what had her so upset made me frown. I spoke before I could stop myself. “Do you want to know what I was thinking? I said childish form of retribution earlier for a reason. I was taking revenge on him. It doesn’t make what I did any more right, but it wasn’t about the opportunity to bed him.

“I am…” I swallowed hard and lowered my hand from her shoulder to intertwine my fingers on my lap. My eyes drifted downward. “Do you want me to tell you something I haven’t even told Lily? I am struggling a great deal with him being in our lives again. Lily knows that, just not the extent. How much bitterness I’ve been harboring over him.” I shrugged, drawing a shaky breath inward. “I came close to loving him once. I’ve never told a single, solitary soul that. I wanted to love your father, but I couldn’t the way he needed. Flynn, however…” I sighed. “I can sympathize with Victor’s position because while Flynn was still an assassin, I tried to be his mentor. I was grateful for those moments when he and I could forget about Sabrina and her demands on us. We were finally brothers in those moments.”

Nodding, I continued. “When he… agreed to be my bodyguard, I had the flicker of a hope that maybe someday… something more could exist between us. I knew it would take a long while, but I was willing to be patient. Instead, he betrayed me and ran a blade through my chest. My final words to him were, ‘I loved you as a brother,’ but had I more time, I might have said something else.” Lifting a hand, I swiped a rogue tear from my cheek, an overflow from the tense emotions still present after my fight with Lydia. I composed myself and finished speaking. “So, the other night, I was taking out my anger on him by stealing from him one of the things I never had the chance to experience. Take that however you want, but now you are the only soul on this mortal coil who knows the truth.”

Lydia sat still for a few moments, lost in thought. Slowly, she unfolded her hands and reached over, placing one hand on top of mine. She didn’t speak at first, but I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks as her eyes lifted and looked just as glassy as mine felt. Through the haze of bitterness settling on me, I saw understanding in the way she looked at me. I waited patiently for her to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For that, that you had to steal something you wanted.” Lydia pressed her lips together in a gesture which looked designed to try and hold back her tears. It only worked marginally. Her hand tightened over mine. “And… As horrible as it might be… That actually makes me feel better. I really didn’t get why you would sleep with Flynn, and it really hurt… that you got so swept up in it that you didn’t think about me. But… if you loved him…” Her other hand joined the first in resting atop mine. She continued looking at me. “I’m sorry, for what that must feel like, having to hold it in. If… if you ever want to talk about it, it’s okay.” A shaky smile surfaced on her lips.

I clasped my hands around hers, shuddering with the way it felt to tell someone what I’d been holding in for so long. My face contorted as I felt more tears begin to form. I tried hard to stop them from falling. “I feel that blade perpetually in my chest when he’s around, a stóirín. And it only makes me more bitter that he doesn’t realize he did more than turn me to dust that day.”

She nodded slowly, her smile turning wan. “He broke your heart. And then the Fates threw you and Dad together, and you’ve been walking around with the reminder of what you lost a chance to. What got stolen.” Lydia quieted for a moment. “And now he’s back. Actually back.” Her eyes locked with mine again. She added softly, “And in love with someone else.”

The words cut, themselves a reminder of how hurt seeing the first loving glance Flynn ever exchanged with Victor made me feel. My Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of how hard I swallowed and I laughed sardonically. “This is why I fought the way I did with Victor over his return. Flynn? Love? The man was incapable of it. He loved himself and precious little more than that.” The reminder of my bitterness forced me to lower my eyes again. “I am not… I do not… resent Victor for having what he does with Flynn. He is… absolutely right that Flynn has changed and for the better.” A sad smile found its way onto my face as I looked at Lydia again. “It would never be me, though. And it never could now, because I couldn’t trust him to open myself up to him as much as I was starting to before.”

She squeezed my hands, a tear falling even as she smiled softly. “Never say never. It might be a one in a million, but if one day he figures this all out, it’s a maybe. And you could move forward from there.” She sighed, then huffed a soft laugh. “But it might take a while.”

Sighing, I smiled softly. “I think that time passed over twenty years ago, a stóirín, but I admire you for being so optimistic.” I leaned forward and kissed her, lingering close to her and drawing in a deep breath before pulling back. “I am perfectly content with you and Lily. I don’t need another lover. It’s just… difficult… having old wounds reopened like this. With your father… I had to set it in my mind he was a completely different being than the brother I alm…” I sighed. “I… fell in love with. And for all intents and purposes, he is different. The man in that woman’s body, though…” Shaking my head, I trailed off.

Lydia recommended I not sleep with him again, as much to prevent any hurt against her as to stop me from wounding myself. I agreed, and took one step further, deciding against bedding Peter or Victor casually, too. Considering my proclivities, it was a lot for me to surrender, but I need to get my bearings back again. I am spiraling and need a place to land.

So, here I sit now, staring at this book with my pen jotting down things I can’t tell anyone else. If I told Lily, it would put her in the position of needing to keep something from her maker, because I don’t want Victor to know under any circumstances. He loves Flynn just as deeply as he loves my brother. I took enough of Victor’s blood when I was injured to feel the occasional sharp prick of emotion from him whenever we’re in the same room. I want Flynn to know what that feels like. I wouldn’t even care if Victor decided he wanted to join in marriage with Flynn as he had with Peter because that will mean Flynn has changed permanently.

What I wrestle with is how I’m supposed to react to all of this.

I’ve been thinking of asking Lily and Lydia if they wouldn’t mind a holiday, but haven’t thought of the right way to bring this up. Lydia, I could tell, but Lily… I don’t know how I’d explain why I needed it. Every time I’m mired in turmoil, my native country calls my name and beckons me back to its emerald shores. I hear Ireland’s siren song resonating through my soul again.

Sláinte,
Michael

It is a story I don’t share with anybody, and for very good reason. Yet, as I sit at this desk, hidden away in Tokyo, Japan, it is one I can’t help but relive, especially knowing somebody I love is currently in danger. Just like the person in my memories, she walked into the arms of danger willingly and like her counterpart, she did for a good cause. I can only hope Lydia’s fate differs when the end comes around.

Love is a strange animal for me. I’ve loved several times through my one hundred sixty-two years on this planet, but never so intensely as I’ve fallen for Lily and Lydia. Sabrina, my maker… our torrid affair stretched decades, but she could neither reciprocate what I felt for her, nor inspire me to feel anything deeper than the carnal infatuation I harbored. I cared for Timothy before he proved his affections for me to being superficial and Katerina, I yet care for as a maker should for his child. Even Peter, I admire as my brother, possessing that form of love which exists between birds of a feather, and Victor, I look upon in much the same manner. Éilis was different, but I only knew her for one, special night.

After the winds of change swept through Europe over twenty years ago, I found myself a wanderer without a coven, mine destroyed, I thought, when Sabrina met her end. It wasn’t safe for me to stay in Romania with Emil and, quite frankly I didn’t want to. The more I walked around Bucharest, the more I realized my heart longed for home.

Home. Ireland. I’d visited only twice since leaving Dublin as a newly-turned vampire, and the last time I laid eyes on Kilkenny, it was as a mortal linguistics professor. I don’t know what provoked me to seek refuge in my hometown. Perhaps I needed the comfort of my roots. Perhaps I realized I’d been so many places and not back to where it all started. I only know I found myself waking one night in Bucharest, longing for the Irish countryside, knowing I would never lay eyes on the verdant green of its rolling hills again, but wanting them surrounding me just the same. I packed my belongings and started the journey which led me to the place I once called home.

So much had changed. Not everything, but nearly that much. The old buildings and narrow, winding roads remained the same, but shops had changed. People had changed. The entire atmosphere seemed a century out of place in a world I was expecting to still resemble the late 1800’s. I watched cars maneuver roads horses had once traversed and saw modern man leaving their footprint on the historic landmarks I once revered. I found the gravestone of my sister, traced her children until I gave up somewhere around the third generation. Even my former place of work, looked the same, but so irrevocably different.

The world had changed. I was the one left behind.

It inspired a bout of melancholy I couldn’t seem to shake. Oh, I hunted its populace and spoke Irish again for the first time in decades, but it wasn’t the same. I found my immortal brother Patrick leading a coven nestled in the heart of the city and we would meet for brandy and random trysts when it seemed the mood suited us. His company brought me no comfort and I found myself settling in without direction, surrounding myself with books the same way I had when I was a mortal. I could still hear my sister Katherine somewhere in the deepest recesses of my memories.

“You surround yourself with paper so much, you’re losing touch with the world around you.“ The thirty-two year old bachelor failed to heed her warning then, and the one hundred and forty-two year old vampire hadn’t learned his lesson. Instead, I sought to learn the world’s languages without experiencing its flavor. It was against the very thing which had led me to becoming immortal. Except now, I was an immortal without any direction.

Only five months in, and after using my extensive savings to buy a house on the outskirts of town, I had a dream one morning about a town I’d visited only a handful of times when I was a mortal. On the other side of the country, nestled on the coast, just outside the country’s largest Gaeltacht area laid Galway and the memories which enticed me all bore a siren call. I remembered the autumn I walked the halls of University College Galway, tempted to accept an open position as a professor there, a step up from the demotion I took in Kilkenny. Tempted toward a change of pace away from the rut in which I’d fallen when I moved from Dublin. For some reason, I passed up the offer and a scant few months later, I would be turned immortal by Sabrina.

Now, however, the temptation to visit became so overpowering, I couldn’t ignore it no matter how hard I tried. I spoke with Patrick about the strange enticement and recall him shrugging and telling me a short holiday might help my disposition. With that in mind, the next night, I packed a bag and within a few hours’ time, found myself in the coastal town, sitting in a hotel room. The first night, I settled in without much investigation, content to whittle away the remaining hours until dawn reading a book. By the next evening, though, hunger nipped heavy at my heels and I could ignore it no longer.

Fetching my suit jacket, I threaded my arms through the sleeves and set out without any intentions, walking into the mist of a light rain. I dug my hands inside my pockets, hearing the faint sound of Irish music playing in the distance and passing pubs and shops where people sat laughing and enjoying themselves. The environment became so infectious, not even the presence of an Atlantic storm could prevent me from allowing myself to relax. I slipped inside one tavern, ordering a brandy and surveying the patrons for who might make a proper meal for the night.

My eyes shifted about the room. I saw a raven-haired beauty breaking into impromptu song and chuckled at the whimsy present in her actions. Two male suitors both vied for her attention, which made her a more difficult conquest. I had bedded two mortals at once before, but even I knew better than to leave myself outnumbered three to one. Raising the glass to my lips, I shifted my focus to a single man seated at another table and mused upon that possibility for a few seconds. So lost in thought was I that I didn’t notice the woman who sat at the counter beside me.

Not until she leaned close, whispering in my ear, “That one’s a tough nut to crack.” I turned around immediately and looked at her, blinking at the way she smiled at me, with her lips pressed tightly together and her blue eyes sparkling with a latent mischief inherent in them. I stole a moment to admire the dark brown locks which fell along both sides of her face in a gentle wave and when she spoke, the thick, Irish accent permeating her voice was not as surprising as the slight glimpse of two fangs lying in slumber. She inched closer to me and eyed my prospective victim. “With him, you need a woman’s touch. Somebody to purr in his ear and whisper sweet nothings.”

I laughed, still looking at her. “You don’t think he would follow a man out of here?” I asked, sipping my brandy.

She grinned. Her sapphire gems found me once more. “Well, if any man could do it, I suppose it could be you.” Shaking her head, she glanced at him again. As she spoke, I felt her hand slide up my arm, settling on my shoulder. “But he’s craving a woman. Soft skin to touch and taste. I can smell it on him.”

The way she touched me sent a tingle up my spine. So much so, I wondered if she was talking about the man or me. “Ah,” I said, lining him in my sights again. I polished off the contents of my glass and set it down onto the bar. “Well, I can hardly blame him. If an Irish maiden so fair sat beside me, I would find the offer too good to pass up, Miss…”

She chuckled. “I don’t know if my name is safe with such a flatterer.” As our eyes met, she winked. “But I’ll take a chance on you. My name is Éilis.”

“Éilis.” Even saying her name brought a smile to my face. The Irish form of Elizabeth. “A gift from God.”

Éilis grinned in something of a devilish manner. “A vampire pure of heart.” She chuckled and my smile broadened for a few lingering moments before I felt her hand sliding closer to the collar of my shirt. Fingertips touched my neck and it was all I could do not to shiver from the reaction. Éilis tilted her head. “And you, regal stranger?”

Regal. I hadn’t been called that since Peter and I parted ways. I swallowed hard and glanced away quickly before looking back at her. “Mícheál,” I said, allowing more of my native accent to surface.

“Oh… Mícheál.” Her eyes closed, the tips of her fingers finding my ear and running along the lobe as though acting beyond her will. “I thought I heard the Irish in you despite the way you hide it. And if I had to guess…” She hummed, her lids remaining shut until she lifted them slowly. “Kilkenny.”

I laughed. “How in the heavens did you know I was from Kilkenny?”

Éilis smiled. “Oh, I’ve been around Ireland at least a dozen times or better. From Dublin to Cork, Limerick to Waterford and Galway to Kilkenny. From the Northern tip to the Southernmost coast.” She paused. “No matter where I journey, I always find myself back home.”

I nodded. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I became aware of her digits brushing my suit jacket, down to my tie, but I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her. I inched closer, settling my elbow on the bar behind us. “I hadn’t been back in decades.”

“I can tell.” Her eyes rose to meet mine while her fingers ceased their sensual exploration of my clothing. “It took until you said your name for me to realize where you were from.” I watched a form of sadness surface in her gaze, which never overtook her sapphire gems enough for their sparkle to diminish. “I heard British, American, and a hint of Irish. Why do you disguise it so much?”

I shrugged, sighing. “Because I’ve lived everywhere but here for so long. In fact…” My eyes drifted down the skin of her porcelain neck before I could stop them. I forced them back to her face the moment I became aware. “… I’ve lived in America for the better part of the last fifty years.”

Éilis smiled. “The Irish in you becomes you, Mícheál. Pretend you hadn’t left for an evening. How did the educated man speak before he first pricked the flesh of a mortal with his teeth?”

Laughing, I looked away. I felt apprehensive, willing the butterflies in my stomach to fly away first before looking back at her and clearing my throat. When I spoke again, my voice was bereft of its British and American influences. “Now, how did you know I was an educated man as a mortal, a mhuirnín?”

She squealed with delight. “Yes! Yes, I knew it. Kilkenny, clear as day.” Her excitement settled as it seemed something occurred to her, perhaps the word I’d used transforming the merriment to a soft bashfulness. “A Stór, there are some things a woman can tell about a man simply by looking at them.”

“Such as what?”

She leaned closer, our faces mere inches apart. “Such as when he’s lonely. When it’s been a while since he’s allowed himself the chance to feel alive.”

I grinned. “We are hardly amongst the living any longer.”

“Oh, I think we are more alive than the beings amongst us with pulses.” The wide grin resurfaced, the tips of her fangs more evident with this smile. “We experience things none of them ever could. Even the way we see the moon and stars is so different from the way they see it.”

Nodding slowly, I felt the draw toward her all the more potently. My gaze turned more intense, mirroring the desire which had started to course through my veins. I drew in a deep breath, smelling something I could only describe as meadows after a springtime rain, soft and inviting. Warm as the sun, sprinkled on her skin and tangled in her wavy locks of umber. “And how would a woman help a man to feel alive again?”

Éilis grinned mischievously and stood, breaking the gravitational pull drawing us together. With a deliberate look in her eyes, she glanced first at me, then at the man we had been surveying when we first began our conversation. Lithe, graceful footsteps punctuated her stroll to his table and as she caught his attention, she let her gaze fall on me again, and in that look, I saw fire and intensity. She then leaned closer to her conquest and whispered at him, her delicate fingertips sliding up his neck while her breath caressed his ear. I watched him look at her with something of a drunk expression and chuckled, knowing she already held him in her thrall by the way he rose and offered her his arm. She winked at me and blew a kiss and I groaned, knowing full well what she was hinting at without her needing to speak the words.

I rose from my stool and straightened my jacket before walking in the direction where they disappeared. Following at a safe enough distance, I could still hear his pulse as they opened the back door to the establishment and their footsteps sounded on the cobbled street winding behind the pub. I felt the light mist hit my skin, a trifle colder than I remembered, or my flesh a trifle warmer than it had been when I entered. With brisk steps, I pursued Éilis, until I found her disappearing inside what looked like the back door of a narrow, abandoned business. The door yet remained open, the lock broken undoubtedly by the Irish beauty. I followed her inside and paused by the doorway when I saw her standing there.

The rain gave her pale skin an ethereal sheen as the iridescent glow of a nearby streetlight reflected on her through one of the dusty windows. I stepped closer and caught sight of the mortal man standing against a wall, shivering not from fear, but from a sensation I was becoming all too familiar with myself. The room bore not a speck of furniture, seemingly left to whatever fate its owners had decided upon for the old building. I heard the faint strains of music playing somewhere in the distance.

Her eyes found mine while she pressed against the man, her fangs fully descended, making her look something like a devilish waif. She kissed his neck, our gaze locked throughout the entirety of the action. I walked closer and felt my sharp teeth slip from their hiding place, both at the scent of the man and the intoxicating sight of the vampiress who held him under her spell. His heart beat out a steady rhythm, inviting me closer, and yet I could not stop looking at her.

She grinned at me and nuzzled against his skin. “Isn’t a strange dichotomy,” she asked, “How death can make us feel the most alive?”

I grinned and took the mortal by the hand, raising his wrist to my nose and imbibing a deep whiff of the blood flowing beneath the surface. “As they die, we live,” I said.

“Mmm… but there is more to it than that.” She dragged her tongue up his neck, provoking a moan from the man as though strumming a chord on a well-tuned instrument. The reaction provoked a chuckle. “Do you hear that, a mharfóir? He doesn’t realize he won’t live to see the sunrise, and listen to him enjoying his last moments on this earth. We have neverending evenings, and yet we waste them away.”

I licked his skin the same way Éilis had, eliciting the same response. It forced my eyes shut as I savored the mixture of lust and blood wafting in the air around me. “I would call him the fortunate one, then.”

“No, we are the fortunate ones.” I opened my eyes in time to see her scratch at him with her fangs. Beads of crimson red ran down, staining the collar of his shirt. “He only has moments. We have the rest of the night.”

She drove her teeth into his neck the same time I plunged mine into his wrist and at once, a tidal wave of warm, viscous liquid ran down my throat. I groaned, my lids fluttering closed again as I drank, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of blood with the faint sound of Éilis depleting him winding its way around my consciousness. I drew a little deeper, becoming a bit more incensed the longer I fed, until the warmth of precious life permeated my entire being. I withdrew. He fell as Éilis did the same. No sooner did his body crumple to the ground than Éilis’s pressed against mine with dire urgency.

Our lips crashed together. My back hit the wall and I groaned as our exposed fangs cut into each others’ lips, mixing the taste of the man with a hint of each other. I felt her leg wrap around me and clutched at her back, sliding down to cup her and push her all the harder against the want already evident beneath my clothing. “Mícheál!” she called out, her fingers making quick work of the buttons of my vest, my tie sliding from my collar and my shirt becoming a fast casualty to her manic actions. I lifted the material of her skirt until my fingers touched bare skin and turned quickly, slamming her into the wall.

Éilis groaned and laughed as her back touched the concrete this time. I opened her blouse and kissed down her neck while her body arched and her hands slid down my bare chest. I felt her working on the belt around my pants while I lifted her skirt and her undergarments hit the ground around the same moment my trousers did.

Her strong legs wrapped around me. The hardness of my length pressed against her before becoming engulfed in the slick folds waiting for me. She cried out the moment I entered and from there, we both thrust against each other, becoming desperate for completion while savoring every blissful stroke along its path. Her fingers tangled in my hair, knocking strands loose from my ponytail and I kissed her with primal ferocity throughout the throes of our wild coupling. As her lips parted from mine, a series of loud moans built to a crescendo with words emanating from both our throats I couldn’t begin to remember without tasting the experience again for myself. I knew the moment her fingernails dug into my back and her channel tightened around me that she had reached climax. I called out for the first time, not giving one whit for the volume of my voice as I came inside her.

We remained in this position for what seemed like an eternity, my lips touching her cool skin several times over and her hands sliding down my back before lifting to nest in my hair. Our mouths met and commenced a long series of rolling kisses and she bit my lip as she pulled away. “How do you feel now, Mícheál?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper.

I grinned, touching noses with her. “Alive, a mhuirnín.”

Her smile brightened, her eyes opening the same time mine did. We stared at each other for interminable seconds before I pulled away, allowing her feet to touch the ground and giving her the chance to bring order to herself as I found my clothes and slipped my pants around my waist again. She walked up behind me before I could put on my shirt, her arms wrapping around my torso and her eyes lifting to the dusty window where the light continued filtering from outside. “Would you like to take a walk?” she asked, nuzzling against my shoulder.

I shut my eyes, feeling the warmth pour through me again, this time not brought by blood or the indulgence of a glass of brandy. I touched one of her hands with mine and nodded. “Have you ever danced in the rain?” I asked, the volume of my voice lowering to match her tone.

Éilis chuckled, kissing my neck before relinquishing her hold on me. “So many times, but never with a partner.” As I turned around to face her, her eyes glinted mischievously again and I had to laugh at the way she lifted a finger and beckoned me to come with her. I fetched the rest of my clothing, slipping it on quickly as I followed her out onto the cobbled streets once more.

She spun around when the rain hit her, arms raising from her sides and skirt lifting while she twirled around in circles. I shook my head and dashed to her, taking one hand in mine and wrapping an arm around her waist as the strains of distant music reached my ears again. She laughed and I could not help but to chuckle myself as we danced away from the empty building, both of us carrying on uproariously. “We are going to attract attention,” I said, not minding the volume of my voice.

She grinned at me. “So?” she asked. Éilis hummed along with the music and increased the tempo of our dance. “We might be like that mortal man, mo mharfóir. Tasting our last night and savoring it together. Why should we worry about a tomorrow neither of us are guaranteed?”

I had to shake my head. Still, I did nothing to deter the way she twirled and spun us around the corner onto an intersecting road. The music became louder. I hummed with her and began to sing the moment I recognized the words. She joined me and together, we belted out the melody of an Irish tune, dancing until we reached its source. The music stopped and a crowd began to applaud the musicians. Éilis and I broke from the dance and I bowed as she curtsied in front of me.

As I turned to stroll toward the main thoroughfare, she took hold of my arm and together, we walked and spoke, carrying on for what seemed like hours as we drifted through the city like two lost vagabonds. When I asked her how old she was, she only answered, “What does it matter?” and I had to shrug and grant her a small piece of mystery. Still, I spoke of returning to Kilkenny, of my brother Patrick and then, my brother Peter, relaying the tale of our adventures through Europe for her. She listened and did not question one word of the inexplicable tale, answering instead with, “Do you miss him?”

“Peter?” I shrugged. “He is with his lover and happy, wherever he is.”

She smiled softly. “Still, there is so much you’re not saying that speaks so many words.” Éilis wrapped an arm around my waist. “You had a purpose, then you lost it. Now you’re wondering what you should be doing with yourself.”

I nodded, a frown emerging despite myself. “I’ve been a mentor and a second, a lover, a brother, and a traveler.” I sighed. “Now, I’m simply me and haven’t stopped in over a hundred years to ask exactly who that is.”

Éilis hummed and leaned close to me as we stopped close to the harbor. Looking up at me, she smiled and said, “Who does it feel like you are right now, Mícheál?”

As our eyes met, I felt a surge of apprehension, as though gazing at the doors to another world I wanted so desperately to walk through. I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly, another voice pierced the night air, the exclamation as much an accusation as it was a statement of fact.

“Vaimpír!”

I glanced up in time to spot two shadows looming in the darkness, one of them armed with a sword poised by their side. They drew the sword and my eyes widened as I clutched Éilis against me. “Oh no,” I whispered.

“What?” she glanced in their direction and sighed the moment she saw them. “More of those, are they?”

I frowned. “You know what they are?”

“Oh yes, not the first time I’ve seen the green-eyed devils.” She grinned. “The seers are all over Europe.”

“They are?” I asked, but Éilis slipped from my side and took hold of my hand, tugging me along with her. She immediately launched into a sprint I struggled to keep up with, and yet, I sensed no fear from her. Only a very determined gumption which led us back to the cobbled streets and winding roads in town. She paused at one intersection and looked around, leading us down another narrow passage until we wound our way close to an alley. She ceased her steps and turned to face me, kissing me deep, then pulling away. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

I blinked. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Good.” Éilis sighed. “Then I apologize for doing this, Mícheál. Promise me you’ll live.”

“I don’t understa-” I began, but she interrupted me by hurling me against the wall, using her grip on me to whip me so fast for the granite, I had no chance to brace myself for impact. I hit my head and felt consciousness seep from me, the world turning to black almost in an instant.

I have no notion of how long I was asleep, except to say I woke in building where Éilis and I had killed the mortal man we lured away. His body still laid in the shadows and when I scrambled to my feet, a profound wave of dizziness punctuated the motion enough to cause me to stumble backward. I closed my eyes. I indulged in a deep breath, then rushed as fast as I could muster for the now-closed door, slamming my shoulder into it to break it open again.

The streets were quiet. I glanced around, then jogged in the direction of the main thoroughfare. The moment I rounded the corner, I spied three shadows headed in the opposite direction and whipped around, pressing my back against the wall and closing my eyes as I struggled to listen.

A male voice. “I’m not stupid, vaimpír,” he said. “I saw you with another.”

“And the other isn’t any of your concern,” a female voice I recognized as belonging to Éilis said. She chuckled. “He isn’t an elder, but I am. Isn’t that what you’re after now, you minions of the Order?”

I heard a sharp thud and a moan of pain. I winced and peeked around the corner, watching the one seer tug Éilis away from the wall and take hold of her wrists again. “No,” I whispered, but yet, I remained frozen in place, too stupefied to run after them. Not yet sure what she expected me to do. My heart sank and I recalled her final words. ’Promise me you’ll live.‘ ”Not like this,” I murmured. “Not with you putting yourself in harm’s way.”

They rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. I dashed for the end of the road, but felt another wave of dizziness which sent me crashing to my knees. Crawling toward the side of one of the adjacent buildings, I brought myself to my feet again and struggled for the intersecting street, but by the time I reached it, it was too late. I saw no sign of Éilis or her captors anywhere in the distance.

My back hit the wall again. I shut my eyes and could not help the tears welling in them as I realized even if I was to find her, there was no way I could free her without the Fates sending me a miracle. Still, I stumbled for the next road and the road after that, fighting against the knowledge the hours were hastening toward dawn, hopeful I might find her before then. When my searching yielded no results, I returned to the hotel and threw the door shut behind me. Collapsing onto the bed, I wept bitterly and drifted to sleep curled in this repose.

I searched for her the next evening, but knew better than to try the following night after my fruitless wandering failed to help me find the Irish beauty. The following day, I returned to Kilkenny and there I remained, still lost. Still without a place in this world and now, all the more morose because of it. Some time later, when Peter found me there and begged for my assistance, I shut the door on his face, my anger flaring with my brother the scapegoat for everything that had happened in Europe during those intervening years. As he stood outside my house entreating me, I heard Éilis in my thoughts for the first time in a while, asking me if I missed him.

I heard my response. I listened as she asked who I felt like right now and had to answer the question. “I am his brother,” I whispered, not with the words I wished to speak to her that night, but with words which summarized the truth of things at that moment in time. “And he needs my help.” With that, I opened the door and allowed Peter to sweep me up into his world of utter chaos once more. I had to be honest with myself, however. I had a purpose again and since then, something has always granted me an identity.

Now, however, I sit in Tokyo and think of Lydia. I think of how much she and Lily have made me feel alive, even more than my one evening Éilis provided, with more intense a love than the fledgling embers which began to burn during my short hours with the Irish beauty. I think of how Lydia ran into harm’s way while, once again, I sit here and wait. Wait for somebody else to determine her future and pray The Fates will return my young lover back to me. I miss her terribly, and even though I told her I love her before she departed with her brother John, I know the sense of loss would eclipse the melancholy of any loss I have ever experienced before.

If I ever look into her eyes again, I will pray for time to stand still so I can revel in the miracle of her presence once again. Until then, I remain lost in my thoughts, seeing Tokyo as another Galway and me as another drifter without a hand lent in this battle.

Tá grá agam duit, a stóirín óg mo chroí.

Sláinte,
Michael

An entry dated back a few years. Best to assume all of my entries have the potential toward having adult content unless proven otherwise. *Grin*

***

Journal Entry – March 27, 2005

Tonight, I thought about my earliest years as an immortal.

I don’t know what in particular evoked the train of thought, aside from a short conversation several of us engaged in over cigars and glasses of scotch and brandy. An elder from one of our area covens had been away since Peter returned to Philadelphia and it was the first time he realized my brother and second-in-command was the infamous vampire assassin Flynn. My brother’s alter ego follows him around like a ghost. I don’t pity him, this much is for sure. Especially when others turn white as a sheet the way Joseph did.

I think all of the vampire convention can boast of some rather unsavory years in their past. We are what we are, after all. Hunters. Predators. The next level in the food chain beyond the mortals whose world we inhabit; whose world we fail to conquer because the Natural Order dictates we each have our own place and parts to play. It isn’t that they are faster… smarter. We know better than that. We also know if given the proverbial keys to the universe, we would not hesitate to undermine everything we enjoy about this mortal coil in the first place. Read the rest of this entry »

Journal Entry – September 14, 2009

Journal Entry – July 21, 2009

Tonight did not go exactly as planned.

I was shutting down my computer and splashing on a little cologne while preparing for a night out. The concept of dating still had me nervous and uncertain of myself as I had not engaged the ritual since my mortal days. I still did not know if I was ready for it. The rules had changed. Society changed. I pride myself on being perceptive enough about the way the world turns around me even if I don’t engage it on its terms. My book shelves still contain dusty, leather bound volumes, after all.

But that isn’t what I sat down to write about tonight. Read the rest of this entry »

Journal Entry – September 12, 2008

I never thought I would be having the discussion I did tonight with Katerina, or that she would respond as favorably as she did. As strange as this is to confess, I think I might be infatuated with her.

Her mortal heart still beats with blood running through her veins, but the woman I have started to become acquainted with more and more these days might as well possess fangs. Nothing I told her about being a vampire deterred her from pleading with me for entrance into our coven. What’s more, in her, I saw something of a reflection. As I consider our talks, I can’t help but to think of what happened to me over a hundred years ago. Read the rest of this entry »

Journal Entry – June 7, 2003

Charles asked me tonight why I still use the name Robin. I confess the inquiry took me aback at first. Why not use it? I have done so for twenty years now, so it hardly seems like the time to announce to everyone that I want to go by Michael alone; no more answering to two different names. I couldn’t though. Especially as I stopped to recall how that name first came to be.

Peter and I have had several discussions centered around the name over the past twenty years, especially after he stopped going by the name Flynn. Peter admitted he expected to find I’d gone back to being called Michael after we parted ways in Rome and while I did, I never eliminated “Robin” from my list of pseudonyms either. But why? Why hold onto it? After all, it was forced on me by Sabrina. There’s something to be said for nostalgia, though. And for brothers. Read the rest of this entry »

Journal Entry – April 11, 2008

Tonight, I celebrated my one hundred and twenty-eighth birthday as an immortal.

Hard to believe that number, in both its enormity and its smallness, but it found its way to me nonetheless. Each year strikes me a bit differently. Sometimes, it causes me to become melancholy. Other times, I am able to raise a glass and toast others to another year, or decade, or century with a smile and a laugh. There are years I attempt not to recognize the date and other years when I wax nostalgic. This has been one of the latter years. Sabrina has been on my mind a lot lately.

I met her on a Saturday. I remember this because I spent the day at my small flat, with no classes for the day and nothing else to do than walk about Kilkenny and read. For several years, studies led me elsewhere in Ireland – to Dublin, for university and then, as a professor of linguistics – until my parents passed and my sister called for me to return home to Kilkenny. By then, I missed it. My occasional visits home reminded me of happier times as a schoolboy and time spent with Katherine called to mind the scrapes my sister and I got into together.

Within a short time, the listlessness set in, though. Katherine married. I remained a bachelor past my thirtieth birthday, not eager to settle down and give up my dream to travel the world some day. I made a pittance at Kilkenny College compared to the salary I earned at university and was left with little hope of traveling into Britain for a holiday, let alone venturing into Europe. Books sat in stacks on my desk at home of other languages and cultures. Things I wished to do with my life while my thirty-first and thirty-second birthdays passed. I was inching toward thirty-three on the Saturday evening I walked down to the pub.

I never expected to find what I found there. Read the rest of this entry »