PREVIEW: the Last Selection from "Patrick's Path"

W.B. Yeats by George Charles Beresford
from Wikimedia Commons
(Public Domain)

Patrick’s Path (Part 5)

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

“…I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,

Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;

Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,

Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!”

Pat paused and looked at Declan as he sat beneath the tree with his eyes closed.  There had not been a single “Crap!” uttered through the entire poem.  He waited silently for his teacher to respond.

“Well, you know the words sure enough, I’ll give you that.  The recitation was not without merit, and you’d not have embarrassed yourself at a poetry gathering. Look at the poem again, as if it were a story.  Look for the images in the words and try to bring them to life using only the sound of your voice.”

Pat reached for the slip of paper in his pocket.

“No, don’t look at the words!  The words are in your head, boy.  Find them there.  They are ideas, not printed type.  Take a moment.”

A TRIO OF IRISH TALES II: Trailer #1 ~ "Patrick's Path"

A Trio of Irish Tales II features two stories that rejoin characters introduced in volume 1, and the third story introduces an entirely new cast of characters in a situation inspired by real places found in Ireland.

"Patrick's Path" features Pat Flynn from 2013’s story "In the Mists." Pat is 24 now and he's tired of always walking in everyone's wake - following along behind.  He wants to find something that he is passionate about; something that he can claim as his very own. He also wouldn't mind catching the eye of Daimhin Finnegan.

More stories, more adventure, history, romance and mythology.  Three modern tales steeped in the lore of an ancient land. 

Coming to Amazon for Kindle and in Paperback

this Fall!

Follow the preview posts of "Patrick's Path" here on my website to explore more of the flavor of this tale. Another installment is coming soon!

PREVIEW: More from "Patrick's Path"

Patrick’s Path (Part 4)

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

Declan sat on a boulder while Pat trotted up and down the strand reciting names of Irish Lords and Kings, in chronological order.  Every now and then the old man would bellow out questions randomly, and Pat had to respond with a basic bit of information.  If he paused at all, Declan would holler “Crap!” and make him back up a few hundred years or so and start again.  If Pat stopped jogging to think, “Keep moving! Keep moving!” rang down the beach and Pat had to back up his recitation again.  Last week it had been Gods and Goddesses.  The threat of Irish Saints was looming in the future.

Pat didn’t complain.  He found it as exhilarating as he did infuriating.  Even though the sound of “Crap!” made him want to punch something, he kept at it and kept at it until he could recite the entire list uninterrupted but for the unexpected questions which he fielded without pause.  Once he could achieve that, his teacher made him do it again five, six, seven times with no respite.  

The first time Pat had been able to complete the exercise undisturbed, he had felt the power of the knowledge within himself.  He felt like he owned the names, dates, and details and in the joy of it, his jogging broke into ecstatic leaps and spins.  His teacher grinned as he watched Pat careen across the sand and rocks, never once letting up his trial of the young storyteller. 

PREVIEW: More from "A Trio of Irish Tales II"

Patrick’s Path (Part 2)

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

The pub was full to bursting this night; alive with energetically familiar greetings, merry introductions, and the scraping of sturdy wooden chairs on the well-worn floor.  Micheal Flynn, usually a reserved man, was vigorously weaving through the filled tables talking to people as he went, trying to find a place for the three of them close to the tiny stage in the corner.  Pat didn’t understand it.  His father was never pushy, but tonight he was actively negotiating to get a prime spot close to the entertainment.

“What’s Da up to?” Pat asked.

“Never you mind, son. Your Da has ideas of his own, and we who love him can best let him have his way this night.”

Pat looked at her like she’d grown another head.  She rarely let Da just go off and do what he pleased without her approval.  He suspected that she knew why he wanted them up front, but wasn’t about to tell.

He was about to ask outright what was going on, when his attention swerved violently in another direction.  Behind his Mum he saw Daimhim Finnegan.  She caught his gaze and smiled shyly.  Pat felt himself blush and, had he been speaking, he would have surely been stammering.  He returned the smile nervously and then looked elsewhere – anywhere!

They had been part of the same crowd of kids who had grown up together there on the Munster shore.  Pat had always been struck by her loveliness; even back when they had all been young children he’d felt drawn to her.  She wasn’t loud, she never flirted, but she had a quiet strength that he found appealing and comforting.  He noticed how she always made certain that people were taken care of.  A few years older than himself, she had become his ideal: the standard by which he measured all other girls.  Last year she’d started going out with James O’Brien, which had seemed to put her out of Pat’s reach forever.  Big, bold, popular James, who everyone flocked to, including Pat, seemed an unlikely partnering for the modest Daimhim.  Even though something had happened to that relationship in the last few weeks, Pat didn’t dare foster any hope for himself with herself.