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Authors: Kate Thompson
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in. But when they emerged into the daylight, the world was not the way it had been when they left it. The skythat had been gray was blue. The fields and trees were no longer wearing their early autumn colors but were lush and green.
“I don’t understand,” said J.J.
“Welcome to Tír na n’Óg,” said Anne Korff. “The land of eternal youth.”
----
FAREWELL TO IRELAND
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3
J.J. sat on the warm, grassy bank of the ring fort, gazing up toward the sun-drenched mountains. “If it’s as easy as that to get here,” he said to Anne Korff, “why doesn’t everybody do it?”
“Not so many people go into the souterrains anymore,” said Anne. “And even when they do, it doesn’t seem to occur to them to walk through the walls.”
J.J. laughed. “I wonder why?” he said.
“People fall through occasionally,” said Anne. “That’s what happened to me. I was snooping around as usual. I dropped my flashlight and broke it. I tried to feel my way along the walls and the next thing I knew, I was here.”
“Did you tell anyone about it then?”
Anne shook her head. “It was a long time before itwas clear to me what had happened. It’s not easy to remember what happens during the time that you’re here. When you go back it can be very confusing. Don’t forget that, J.J. If you find yourself in a souterrain or anywhere else feeling very confused, don’t be afraid. The mind goes into shock, that’s all. Some of the memories usually come back later on. But by then…well, I don’t know. I never felt like telling anyone I’d been to Tír na n’Óg. The chances are they wouldn’t believe me. And what would happen if they did?”
She handed J.J. the candle and a box of matches. “You’ll need these on your way back.” She patted her jacket pocket. “I have more.”
“Aren’t you going to stay?”
“I would love to,” said Anne, “but I have far too many things to do. Be sure and call in on me when you get home.”
She walked back to the mouth of the souterrain, then turned back.
“J.J.?”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t stay too long. Don’t forget what happened to Oisín.”
J.J. knew three people called Oisín. He couldn’t see what relevance any of them had to his current situation.
“Oisín who?” he called. But Anne was already gone.
J.J. lay back in the grass. His watch said five thirty, but it was later than that here, judging by the position of the sun in the sky; closer to seven, he guessed. He would be late for dinner if he hung around too long, but for some reason he didn’t feel remotely worried about it. He was on a mission, after all. Buying time was much more important in the long run. But he found that, hard as he tried, he couldn’t work up any sense of urgency about that, either. In a nearby blackthorn bush a linnet was singing its heart out. J.J. couldn’t understand how he had ever been so tyrannized by time. What had it all been about, all that racing around and getting nowhere? Even the thought of it made him feel exhausted. He yawned, sedated by the rasping of the crickets and the whistling of the birds. The sounds swelled to fill his head, then gradually faded out.
----
THE BIRD IN THE BUSH
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4
J.J. woke with a start. It felt to him as though he had slept for hours, but when he looked at his watch barely five minutes had passed. He’d only had forty winks.
He stretched out luxuriantly, a thing he hadn’t done for years, and turned over onto his side to have another little snooze. He didn’t need it, though. He was rested enough, and he was ready to get on with the business in hand. The sky was still blindingly bright, and he was looking forward to having a stroll around. There was never weather like this at home. Or perhaps there was, but everyone was too stressed out to enjoy it. A bit of sunshine; another commodity to be exploited—to make hay, or to get the house painted or to grab a quick swim on the way back from the
“I don’t understand,” said J.J.
“Welcome to Tír na n’Óg,” said Anne Korff. “The land of eternal youth.”
----
FAREWELL TO IRELAND
Trad
----
3
J.J. sat on the warm, grassy bank of the ring fort, gazing up toward the sun-drenched mountains. “If it’s as easy as that to get here,” he said to Anne Korff, “why doesn’t everybody do it?”
“Not so many people go into the souterrains anymore,” said Anne. “And even when they do, it doesn’t seem to occur to them to walk through the walls.”
J.J. laughed. “I wonder why?” he said.
“People fall through occasionally,” said Anne. “That’s what happened to me. I was snooping around as usual. I dropped my flashlight and broke it. I tried to feel my way along the walls and the next thing I knew, I was here.”
“Did you tell anyone about it then?”
Anne shook her head. “It was a long time before itwas clear to me what had happened. It’s not easy to remember what happens during the time that you’re here. When you go back it can be very confusing. Don’t forget that, J.J. If you find yourself in a souterrain or anywhere else feeling very confused, don’t be afraid. The mind goes into shock, that’s all. Some of the memories usually come back later on. But by then…well, I don’t know. I never felt like telling anyone I’d been to Tír na n’Óg. The chances are they wouldn’t believe me. And what would happen if they did?”
She handed J.J. the candle and a box of matches. “You’ll need these on your way back.” She patted her jacket pocket. “I have more.”
“Aren’t you going to stay?”
“I would love to,” said Anne, “but I have far too many things to do. Be sure and call in on me when you get home.”
She walked back to the mouth of the souterrain, then turned back.
“J.J.?”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t stay too long. Don’t forget what happened to Oisín.”
J.J. knew three people called Oisín. He couldn’t see what relevance any of them had to his current situation.
“Oisín who?” he called. But Anne was already gone.
J.J. lay back in the grass. His watch said five thirty, but it was later than that here, judging by the position of the sun in the sky; closer to seven, he guessed. He would be late for dinner if he hung around too long, but for some reason he didn’t feel remotely worried about it. He was on a mission, after all. Buying time was much more important in the long run. But he found that, hard as he tried, he couldn’t work up any sense of urgency about that, either. In a nearby blackthorn bush a linnet was singing its heart out. J.J. couldn’t understand how he had ever been so tyrannized by time. What had it all been about, all that racing around and getting nowhere? Even the thought of it made him feel exhausted. He yawned, sedated by the rasping of the crickets and the whistling of the birds. The sounds swelled to fill his head, then gradually faded out.
----
THE BIRD IN THE BUSH
Trad
----
4
J.J. woke with a start. It felt to him as though he had slept for hours, but when he looked at his watch barely five minutes had passed. He’d only had forty winks.
He stretched out luxuriantly, a thing he hadn’t done for years, and turned over onto his side to have another little snooze. He didn’t need it, though. He was rested enough, and he was ready to get on with the business in hand. The sky was still blindingly bright, and he was looking forward to having a stroll around. There was never weather like this at home. Or perhaps there was, but everyone was too stressed out to enjoy it. A bit of sunshine; another commodity to be exploited—to make hay, or to get the house painted or to grab a quick swim on the way back from the
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