Keening Country Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  KEENING COUNTRY

  “These stories offer the reader a guided tour of the secret sins and obsessions lurking behind the doors of contemporary Ireland. Visceral, compelling, Keening Country packs a considerable punch. Read it.”

  — John Langan

  Author of Children of the Fang and Other Genealogies

  “Toe-curlingly nasty, be sure not to eat before reading!”

  — Gemma Amor

  Bram Stoker Award nominated author of Dear Laura

  “Creepy, brimming with shudders, harrowing, and unforgettable, O'Connor is the master of skin-crawling horror whose characters continue to haunt your sleep long after you’ve turned the final page. Definitely not for the swoon-brigade!”

  — Nuzo Onoh

  Author of The Sleepless

  “At times shocking, though unique, with shades of David Cronenberg thrown into the mix for good measure.”

  — Phantasmagoria Magazine

  ★★★★★

  KEENING

  COUNTRY

  SEÁN O’CONNOR

  I D O L U M

  PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2021 Seán O’Connor

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Idolum Publishing

  Dublin, Ireland

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Cover Artwork by Boz Mugabe

  ISBN: 978-1-8383788-5-1

  Digital Edition

  For Alex

  “Come fanatics, come to the sabbath.”

  — Electric Wizard, “Witchcult Today”

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Aerials

  Down Below

  Seven Years Gone

  The Obsessed

  INTRODUCTION

  Here Be Monsters!

  Ignorance really can be bliss, because for a lucky few, it limits a person’s view to the world around them. At least, that is my perspective and how the book you are holding in your hands came into existence. Let me briefly take you back a few years, to a time before I decided to try and become a writer...

  I grew up in Rathfarnham, which would be considered a rather affluent area of South Dublin. Well, to be more specific, I’m from Whitechurch, which is a council estate in the middle of said area. Admittedly, it is an estate with a bit of a notorious reputation, a place I believe, given the chance, the surrounding affluent population would love to extract, like a cancerous lump, from the map. And while class divide is rife (that is probably a discussion for another day…. or book?), the one thing I’ve found both the working and upper classes of South Dublin have in common is an ignorance and disregard for the North side of County Dublin.

  I’m not sure where this divide came from exactly. Perhaps it’s a result of the massive cultural body of local literature in the form of Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown Trilogy? Or perhaps it was how local news was reported, instilling a serious case of Us versus Them across the city, with the river Liffey acting as a border? Who knows for sure? What I do know is, for the first thirty years of my life I let this ignorance towards the North blind me. I considered everything beyond the Liffey as a no-go area. And if I journeyed beyond Dublin Airport, I’d be going beyond the wall and fall off the edge of the map… Here Be Monsters!

  It wasn’t until I met my wife, that my eyes slowly opened and began taking in the dark and mysterious lands to the North of Dublin. She is from Swords, the main town in a county within a county called Fingal, and is a bit of a homing pigeon. So, without boring you with all the details, I ended up taking the plunge and packed up my shit and moved beyond the airport, where we put down some roots in the heart of Fingallian country.

  What does this have to do with a Collection of horror stories? Well, roll forward a few years… something clicked with me living out here. My creativity flourished and some of my work has been published. I feel I owe it to the land as it has provided and inspired me. And if you’ve read my debut novella, The Mongrel, you will know that areas of Fingal feature in it... and the same can be said for the Collection you currently hold in your hand. These novelettes are too big to be considered short stories, therefore making them un-submittable for anthologies or magazines and too small to make it as standalone books. I suppose they are my homage to Fingal County. So, here they are collected for you and all four will take you around these parts…

  Are you still with me, Reader? Good. Let me know show you a place where anything can happen and strange tales of the unexpected can unfold. A dark and mysterious place where bad things can happen to good people and on any given night, the wind wails like a banshee across this ancient land. Are you willing to venture a little further? If so, you’ve been warned. Proceed with caution and if you’ve made it this far, I’m afraid there is no turning back... …you are part of it now… …welcome to Keening Country.

  Seán O’Connor

  Lusk, Dublin

  May 2021

  AERIALS

  Abigail Steward adored her quiet life and removing herself from the hustle and bustle in Dublin was easily the best decision she’d ever made. She would wake most mornings around ten. And could never understand how most people who deemed themselves successful awakened at the crack of dawn to the sound of an alarm clock, leapt out of bed, dressed themselves in clothes that they would not wear on the weekend, then went to fight rush hour traffic, just so they could spend a third of their day making money for somebody else. And the final kicker was that these people had to be grateful for it. No, that life wasn’t for Abi and her husband, Shane, anymore.

  Newly engaged, they bought a small two-bedroom cottage in the midlands of rural Ireland. Off the grid and away from what they called Stress City.

  Their home was ten minutes away from a small village, which allowed them to enjoy their shared hatred of technology – which was somewhat contradictory as they both worked from home and required internet access and laptops. Shane self-published sci-fi novels, while Abi blogged about healthy living and life off the grid. Their income was decent, but by no means lucrative. Abi was happy with her lot. Nothing bothered her while living out in the sticks, but on a cold October morning she woke to find Shane missing from their bed. Someone was shouting outside, and she could hear someone speaking quietly in return, trying to calm them down.

  Abi leapt out of bed and eased her feet into a pair of slippers, then rushed to investigate the commotion while pulling a silk dressing gown on over her nightdress.

  Shane was standing at the end of the driveway, arguing with two men wearing hardhats and hi-vis jackets. One was chubby, with a large round face and the other was no more than sixteen with a face full of pimples that were noticeable a few yards away. The three of them were pointing along the old country road that ran in front of the cottage.

  Shane’s agitation was plain to see.

  Abi tiptoed her way down the cold path towards the front gate while tying her gown tighter to shield from the sharp breeze, careful not to step on sharp and pointed stones. “What’s going on, babe?” she called, approaching the wooden gate.

  Shane didn’t answer and immediately took her arm, ushering her out from beyond the gate and into the conversation. “Now, go on lads, tell my wife what you just told me. Tell her
what you’re doing here today,” he snapped.

  With a loud sigh, the chubby man began, “I’m sorry to start your day like this, miss. Your husband is upset with us and won’t listen to reason.”

  “And why is that?” Abi asked.

  “We are installing a new aerial on this road today.”

  “We didn’t order anything from our provider. Who are you guys with?”

  The man continued, explaining that their company was installing aerials all over the country as part of a national network infrastructure upgrade.

  Abi understood the reasoning but felt obliged to side with her husband’s objection to an ugly metal pole being planted in front of their home. The cottage was positioned perfectly in a picturesque part of the land. In every direction, lush green fields and trees populated the landscape. The smell of permanent freshness, even in October, was invaluable to the Stewards. With that in mind, she fully endorsed Shane’s anger over a man-made eyesore ruining the scene.

  “I’m sorry, my husband and I just don’t want something that will have such an impact on the landscape. Have you got a contact number for your manager? We’d like to speak to him so that maybe we can dispute this?” she asked, her tone resembling a professional customer service agent.

  The chubby man looked her up and down, took a step back, and signalled to his colleague by the van, which was parked up a few feet away up the road. “Certainly, madam,” he eventually replied, before diverting his attention to his phone.

  Abi turned, kissed Shane on the cheek and gave him a reassuring rub on his back. “You go back in, love, it’s okay.”

  He acknowledged the sentiment, reciprocated, and made his way back to the cottage. She smiled as she watched him wander off. She knew he was upset, but found his passion endearing at the same time.

  “My name is Andrew.” said the chubby man, his voice laced with a smoker’s husk. He handed her a business card. “Here are my company details. Give reception a call and ask for Jim Holden. He’s the project manager and will be able to explain the infrastructure upgrade for this area in detail.”

  Abi took the card, its logo catching her attention straight away – large red block text revealed an organisation she knew well. “You guys are from One-X Technology?”

  “Sure are. I take it you’ve heard of us before, then?”

  Abi smirked and placed the card into the front pocket of her dressing gown. “I have, yes. And thanks, I know exactly who to call about this, Andrew. You guys have yourselves a good day. We’ll be in touch.”

  The chubby man didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket, lit one up and watched a determined Abi make her way back up the garden path.

  From the front window of the cottage, Abi and Shane stood watching both engineers plan the aerial installation. In silence, they sipped their coffee – the presence of the business card could not be ignored. And Abi knew what Shane was going to say before he opened his mouth.

  “Abi, are you—”

  “Yes, babe. I’ll give her a call straight away.”

  Abi went to find her mobile, which was usually kept in her bedside locker and was the only phone in the house. She rarely had it powered on, maybe once or twice a week for a quick chat with her little sister, Melissa – who had recently become Mrs. Power and had become increasingly harder to get in touch with since she’d tied the knot. She figured her sister’s radio silence came with the territory of a young person chasing career goals while living it up in the city, especially working for a global organisation like One-X – a company known for their lavish corporate and social events.

  Debating on whether she should call Melissa on her personal number or at the office, she considered, just for the fun of it, calling the office’s helpdesk to lodge an official complaint. But in the end she didn’t follow through on the idea.

  Melissa’s personal number was unreachable, leaving the Stewards sitting and worrying about the construction in front of their home. Abi kept trying for the rest of the day, because if she didn’t, she could be sure, Shane would be in her ear.

  Later that night, the call finally connected. At first, Abi was relieved at the sound of her sister’s voice, but it was not the usual chirpy greeting that she was accustomed to. Melissa was almost incoherent, rambling and, out of all the frantic mumbles, Abi could only make out the words, “Please stop. We have to stop.”

  “Melissa? Please, it’s Abi. Talk to me?” she begged into the phone – her pleas unheard. And the worrying call continued with strange noises and muffled cries, leaving Abi imploring her sister to make some sense, then silence.

  Abi began to panic. It was completely out of character for Melissa. Even when she was out partying in town, she could still manage to hold a semi-intelligent conversation with her big sis. Abi would listen to her ramble on about the guys at work and how Melissa’s husband, Edward, would be jealous of them.

  Edward Power – a well-groomed, confident man who never seemed to wear anything other than an expensive flashy suit.

  It had been a while since Abi last spoke to Edward… and for good reason. On her sister’s wedding night, she saw enough of Edward to know that he was not the kind of man you would want to get close with. His interpretation and interactions with other women usually ended with him wanting something more from them. Despite this, he seemed to make Melissa happy, and that was enough for Abi to keep her mouth shut.

  She had never heard Melissa talk like this before and needed to know if she was okay. Feeling like she’d reached the last resort, she scrolled down through her phone contacts, stopping and tapping one saved as Prick!

  The call rang out, sending Abi into a state of panic. Frantically, she paced around wishing her sister was okay. She tried calling both numbers again, but only received voicemail greetings. A million thoughts swarmed: Is my sister okay? Is Edward with her? Was she yelling at him to stop? It was all too much, forcing her to spend the night crying in Shane’s arms.

  The next morning, Shane woke to sunlight creeping through a gap in the curtains. Rolling over, he reached for Abi, only to find her missing from the bed. He shot up, scanned the room. Empty. From elsewhere in the house, he could hear her rummaging around and went to investigate – finding her in the kitchen with a bag packed.

  “What’s going on, darling?” he asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.

  “I have to go,” she replied, her voice quivering.

  “Wait, what? What time is it?”

  “Early. I have to beat the traffic.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go. I need to see if she is okay…”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No thanks, babe. I’m sure my sister is just being a drunken fool again, but I need to go check on her and see if she is okay. I know she can be a messy drunk sometimes.”

  She gazed towards the window, followed by a long sigh. “Last night was scary. I’ve never heard her talk like that before. And now I can’t get through to her phone.”

  Shane gave an understanding nod of approval. He knew Abi and her little sister were close. And she would always take on the Big Sis role as soon as things appeared out of place.

  “I’ll be back in no time, babe. You just make sure them One-X wankers don’t go putting up that ugly thing up. That’s your job, okay?”

  “Ha, fair enough. I’ll call down to the council office when they open and see what I can do,” Shane said in agreement.

  They hugged and went to her car.

  Abi’s old Fiat Punto spluttered into life, the exhaust barked, spluttering fumes.

  Shane gave her a concerned look, to which she replied, laughing, “It’s grand, don’t be worrying, hon.” She then reached outside the window, pulled him towards her and gave him a kiss. “I have the phone with me. I’ll call you later to let you know what is happening. I’m sure I am just over-reacting and everything is okay, but I have to go check on her.�
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  “Be careful on the roads, okay? Try not to drive like a lunatic,” he said, watching her back out of the driveway onto the road. Moments later she was over the hill and out of sight.

  As she drove along the coast, Abi found herself wondering whether her parents’ house still looked the same. It sat on the coastline overlooking the sea near Portrane. She hadn’t been back to see it since her parents had passed away a few years ago – Melissa was adamant in staying put, which suited Abi just fine

  Melissa and Edward had bought Abi out, allowing Abi the freedom to set-up wherever she wanted. Despite this, as she drove closer to the old family home nostalgic memories came flooding back. She recalled good summers, playing on the beach that they pretty much had to themselves. Her favourite memory was the view from her old bedroom window of a storm incoming from the sea. Together, the sisters would curl up and watch lightning and listen to the thunder roll. No matter how fierce the weather got, they always felt safe and secure together.

  The coast road meandered as Abi’s Punto motored along, the sky blocked out by heavy clouds, which threatened rain at any moment. Cool air blew in from the sea and as Abi turned the last corner to her destination the difference to the house grabbed her attention. When she last saw it, the exterior had been painted white, the grass out front, lush and green – but at some point, Melissa and Edward had changed all of that. Now it was a dull navy colour and the garden was unkempt and overgrown. The neglect was so evident that it barely resembled in the house in Abi’s memory. The sight chilled her. She knew Melissa wasn’t one for cleaning, but the very least she expected of their old family home would be for it to remain somewhat presentable. And she was willing to wager that Edward was still as clean-cut as ever.