The greybeard’s hands were gently shaking. Hot, reluctant tears burning down his cheeks. His sorry tale shuddering to a halt. Ocean blue eyes darted wildly in every direction. Raw vulnerability shivered through the ancient room. Probing desperately for a cover-blanket. For anything. A flimsy jacket, an old geansaí, a threadbare tea-cloth even. Anything to hide the pain and the resurfacing of old shame. Instead, nothing filled the nothingness enveloping around him.
“ When ya gonna fuckin’ leave? “ he pleaded.
“ Mightn’t leave at all “ replied the owl-man slowly.
“ You need to leave. Right now! “ the greybeard banshee-ed back.
“ God bless, but ya don’t understand me at all, at all. Do ya? “ whispered the owl-man softly.
“ Me blackness will nail the both of us. Get out for fuck’s sake. Leave! “ the greybeard half-roared in response. Mustering as much energy as he could summon.
“ Ah sure, it mightn't “ said the owl-man serenely enough.
“ Let me tell ya, you don’t want to be down here with me bucko. It’s crucified better men than you. I’ve smothered meself in the darkness of what I just told ya “ the greybeard groaned in tortured anguish.
“ Arra, I’m well used of the shadows of night, I mighn’t leave at all. Ya can feck off if you like though “ said the owl-man. His mood a jarring contrast to the old man’s. The greybeard shot a mystified glance across at the man seated beside him.
“ Sure I can’t leave, Isn’t it me own hurt. I can’t just abandon it. Are you some sort of shaggin’ ludramán? “
“ I might be, you know “ said the owl-man considering the notion for a moment. The greybeard looked closer again at the owl-man. As if only noticing, for the first time, that his companion through this gloaming night of his soul was an odd sort of fellow.
“ It’s a bit fuckin’ strange to spend so much time perched in the shadows “ shot back the greybeard accusingly.
“ I suppose it might be ” replied the owl-man nonplussed. The greybeard shook his head, confused, and eyed the banjo at his feet for a quick second.
“ Why don’t you play us a tune? “ asked the owl-man
“ A tune? Have you completely lost the run of yourself ? Have you listened to a word I’ve said tonight. Can you not feel the suffocating pain dragging us down ? “
“ Oh, God I can, indeed I can “ said the owl-man.
“ Then why make such a silly request ? “
The owl-man considered this for a moment or two before answering the greybeard’s question with a question of his own.
“ Have you ever tried holding still in the depths of the darkness? “
“ Holding still?….no, never. Sure, can that even be done? “ the greybeard replied doubtfully.
“ Oh God yeah, it can indeed. Do you know what you sometimes find down there? “
“ Here in the pitch blackness? “
“ yeah”
“ what could you possibly find here in the darkness? “ asked the greybeard.
“ The beauty “
“ Beauty, are you sure ? “ queried the greybeard.
The owl-man nodded a couple of times by way of answer. Conversation ground to a standstill as a slow silence embraced them warmly for a time.
After a long while, the owl-man murmured a few words contentedly as the greybeard picked up his banjo uncertainly.
“ Ah yeah, you’d be amazed at some of the beautiful things to be found down here. Ya just have to find a way to release them out into the world, I suppose.
Sure, I mighn’t leave at all “
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Nice way of putting it Gerry
Good story, excellent song. Had not heard of Kingfishr before this. Thank you!!!!