*Flashback Dream*

Mac Carthaigh farmhouse
Date: Jan 6th, 1995, time: 6:00 pm

*Brigid’s perspective*

Brigid and her family were sitting down for dinner. Even with twenty people at the table, there were still a few seats empty. Despite what has become commonplace in media, pop culture, and in big cities, life on a farm meant lunch was the big meal of the day, and dinner was just meant to hold you over until breakfast. The sun had already set by then, and it was pitch black outside. The house didn’t have any electricity and was only lit by oil lamps and the burning heating stove. Everyone was chatting, teasing, and enjoying the meal. Clancy and Brigid were having a mini sparring match and having a friendly game of one-upmanship. Clancy bragged about how he could wrestle a hog covered in grease, and Brigid challenged him to prove that brag.

“Fine den. Tomarrah, at sunset, ya bring da grease, n’ Ah’ll show ya jus’ how awesome Ah am.”, Clancy said.

“Y’re on, n’ afte’ y’re humiliatin’ y’rself and fail, Ah get ta hose ya down - with da pressure nosile.”, Brigid retorted.

“Ya mean, once Ah prove me awesomeness n’ succeed, ya gotta take me next laundry chore.”

Brigid eyed him in a way he knew ment she was aiming. A smile grew on his face, as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Brigid was their best shooter when it came to guns but not when it comes to hurling food. Clancy knew he could dodge anything Brigid threw at him. Brigid grabbed a handful of mashed potatoes and threw them as hard as she could. Clancy ducked out of the way, and the mashed potatoes found their new mark in the form of Clodagh's hair.

“Brigid, what da hell!? Do ya know how hard it is ta get - any‘hin’ out a hair as thick as mine?”, Clodagh asked. Out of everyone at the table, Clodagh had the thickest hair and thus, was the hardest to maintain. She took great pride in her hair, and everyone could see why. Her hair flowed like the river she was named after and was whiter than the clouds in the sky. Clodagh was the most beautiful member of their family and the Meagher family (her father’s family), who got their name from their beauty. Her eyes were crystal blue and even looked like crystals. Like everybody else at the table, her skin was tanned from working outside all day, but hers tanned in such a way that makes it look like her skin is partially made of gold, and her freckles frame her face perfectly. Her facial features struck the perfect balance between soft and firm. She was also tall, even by Mac Carthaigh standards, and the kind of well built that comes from farm work. It was no wonder she wanted to become a model.

“Sorry, Ah’ll help ya get it out afte’ dinne’.”, Brigid said.

“Did ya know Marilyn Monroe once wore a potato sack to prove ta a critic dat it wasn’t da nice clothes dat made ‘er look beautiful?”, Conor asked. Conor always was a brainiac. He had hundreds of random facts floating around in that brain of his, and he knew just about everything about chemistry and agriculture. It was no wonder he was accepted into Cambridge. His dream was to create an environmentally friendly pesticide.

“Yes, Ah did know dat. Ya’ve told me dat fact twelve times already.”, Clodagh said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Did Ah?” Conor didn’t pick up on Clodagh’s tone. His autism made that difficult for him. He could also be forgetful when the subject wasn’t about a random fact, chemistry, or agriculture.

“Don’t you even think about it.”, Aunt Nessa said.

Turning her head, Brigid saw Cara frozen in place, with her hand about to grab some of her mashed potatoes. Cara pulled her hand back under the table and gave an “innocent” smile.

“She takes afte’ her mum.”, Mum said. Nessa narrowed her eyes at Mum “Are you calling me a troublemaker?”. “If da shoe fits.” “That sounds like the pot calling the kettle black.” “Are ya callin’ me a troublemaker?” “If the shoe fits, wear it.” “Did ya seriously use da whole phrase?” “Yes, because when speaking proper English, you say the whole phrase.” “Ba, y’r from South London. Ah’d hardly call dat Queen’s English territory.” Their banter continued on for a bit more. As antagonistic to each other as they might sound, they actually love each other very dearly. They’re both just very witty women and have a bit of a rivalry going on.

Dad and Uncle Nolan were talking tractor maintenance and what that odd sound one of the tractors was making could mean. Fiadh was letting Roisin play with her hair. Donovan was proving to Fionn that he had chest hair, and Fionn was playfully mocking him about him still being his baby brother. Donovan hated being called a baby. Niall was keeping to himself. This was something he normally did. None of them minded and accepted that he liked to be left alone. Aunt Fiona was critiquing Brion’s cooking. Brion was learning how to cook and had been saying that he wanted to be a professional chef. Brigid thought that he was well on his way of doing just that but also thought that he still put too much salt in the gravy. Meabh was off in her own world. She would daydream a lot. Grady was, once again, making these nasty food combinations that he says are good. Everybody has just learned to just ignore it, and he has learned to stop offering his creations to other people. Grady was an odd and, to be blunt, dumb one to be sure but still very lovable. Everyone was just glad that all his kids got their mother’s brains and only a few of his odd tendencies, especially the ones relating to food. At least Grady was aware enough to recognize his own “inadequacies”. “Ah’m lucky Ah’m pretty” was a phrase he would often say, and everyone had to agree. He was very pretty.

Brigid looked at her Grandparents. They were looking on at everyone with pride in their eyes, and Brigid knew exactly what they were thinking. This is their family. This is their legacy. This was the fruits of their work. They took their families' failing farms and breathed new life into them. When the rest of their families gave up, they pushed on and made this farm profitable. They built this house with their own hands and raised four children any parents would be proud of. Brigid’s thoughts turned to Pristine. Her brain mus’ be wired wrong. She was raised da same as da rest a’ her siblin’s. Dere’s no othe’ way ta explain ‘er “mess”.

Things are going to get really dark and gory. If you don’t think you can handle it, skip to the next section. You won’t miss anything crucial to the plot. This was hard for me to write, and I wrote the Platinum Wood stuff without batting an eye.

Soon dinner was done, and everyone was helping to clean up. Something that deeply annoyed every Mac Carthaigh and O’Conaill woman is that, in every other family they knew, the women cooked and cleaned while the men did “men stuff”. Even Grandpappy expected that to be the case when he and Nana first got married. Well, let’s just say that a bit of ball squeezing and a threat of going back to being Ms. O’Conaill got Grandpappy to rethink his stance on that matter. Nana really was as strong as a wolf. With twenty people helping, the clean up was quick.

“Dad, dere’s someone coming down da road.”, Meabh said.

Everyone turned to look and saw what looked to be five cars driving down the road. Immediately, everyone was put on edge. The only thing along that road was their farm.

“Everyone, grab da guns. Brigid, Clancy, go out ta da barn n’ guard da animals.”, Grandpappy said. Without a moment’s hesitation, everyone grabbed their guns and readied themselves for the fight. Ever since the Troubles started, everyone was trained to defend themselves and the farm from anyone that might attack. Even Cara had and knew how to use a small caliber revolver. Guns were grabbed from under beds, out of closets, and off walls. Everyone took up position in windows, behind furniture, and on top of the roof. Brigid and Clancy followed their orders and ran straight out to the barn.

Once inside the barn, Clancy and Brigid stacked whatever they could to give themselves cover. Once they had cover, they positioned themselves so they were aiming through the windows on either side of the door. They couldn’t see the house from where they were, but they could hear the engines cut. The two looked at each other. Dis is fuckin’ real. Then the gun shots started. They heard rifles, shotguns, and pistols all going off. The sounds were frightening but the wait was agonizing. They had no idea what was going on. They didn’t know who was winning, who was getting hurt, or if anyone was dead. Brigid’s heart was beating in her ears, and her hands began to shake. Brigid didn’t know how long it had been, it could have been minutes or hours, but the gun fire had stopped. She thought the gun shots were scary but the silence after made her heart drop. Had they won? They had to wait for one of the others to come and get them. For all she knew, the attackers could have defeated them. If da attackers defeated dem, dat means dey’re dead. Dey could all be dead. No, hold it tagethe’, Brigid. We won’t know until someone comes ta get us. The two waited and waited. The two heard engines coming to life and cars screeching off. Then they were being shot at. The two ducked for cover as bullets sprayed in through the windows. The horses were freaking out. The sounds of gunfire, shattering glass, panicking animals, and wood breaking was deafening. Brigid closed her eyes. She tried to block out the noise, but it was too much. The moment the firing stopped, Clancy sprung up and managed to get two shots off before a bullet went straight through his skull. Brigid could only watch as her baby brother’s brain matter was expelled from his skull. There was so much blood. Clancy’s body dropped to the ground, his eyes wide open. Brigid switched to her shotgun and stayed low, waiting to ambush whoever came through those doors. The horses were still panicking, so Brigid couldn’t hear if someone was approaching. All Brigid could do while waiting for those doors to open was stare at the lifeless body of her brother. Blood drained from his head like someone spilled a bottle of beer. Little chunks of his brain were sprinkled in front of and behind his head. Brigid heard the door slide open, and the moment the person stepped inside the barn, Brigid sprung up and fired.

Brigid had fired that gun thousands of times before. She could identify it from sound alone, but this time, it sounded different. It was so much louder than it had ever been. Brigid’s ears were ringing. Seeing that she had got the person and there was no one else, Brigid lowered her gun and looked down at the person who killed her brother. Brigid’s eyes widened in horror as the identity of her brother’s killer became known to her. “Uncle Ian?” The man who lay before her now, was none other than her father’s brother. It was unmistakable. Their father’s own younger brother. Brigid climbed down from her perch and walked over to Ian.

“Why?” was all that Brigid could ask, still in disbelief over the situation.

Ian was still alive but wouldn’t be for much longer. The slug went into his lower chest. His trip to the ground caused him to lose hold of his gun, and it ended up several feet away from him. Ian looked at her with such hatred in his eyes. Ian never loved any of his brother’s children, but he never showed any of them hatred. “Because y’r family helped -huuu- da terrorists. Y’r -huuu- family has gone -huuu- against da state f’r da last time. Da -huuu- rest a’ y’r family has -huuu- been brought ta justice, and -huuu- ya will join ‘em soon. You will -huuuu- all rot in hell f’r y’r sins.”, Ian said in a raspy voice.

Absolute dread filled Brigid’s heart. Brigid ran as fast as she could to the house. On her way there, she came across the two that Clancy shot. She immediately identified them as her uncle, Jonathan, and her cousin, Matthew, but even upon seeing their bodies, Brigid did not stop. As she reached the house, the first bodies of her family she saw were of Conor and Uncle Nolan, having fallen off the roof after being shot. Their heads were bleeding from the bullet holes and from where they cracked their skulls open on the ground. Conor’s nose was completely gone.

Upon entering the house, the bodies of Nana, Grandpappy, Mum, Dad, Clodagh, Fionn, Donovan, Brion, and Uncle Crady were strewn about the living room, kitchen, and dining room. Brain matter, organ bits, bone shards, intestines, and blood, lots and lots of blood, were splattered all around the rooms and embedded in whatever the person was standing in front of. Every step sounded like Brigid was walking on wet pavement. Walking over to Clodagh, Brigid saw her beautiful face was no more. It was completely gone. The face she had once envied and despised Clodagh for having when she did not, was now nothing more than red goo and bone shards. Her gorgeous white hair, now stained red with her own blood, with the mashed potato from earlier still tangled within it. Brigid’s father was almost completely gone. The only way she could identify him was by his red hair and wedding ring. Brigid could see his intestines and spine surrounded by red goo. That red goo was once the flesh of the man who consoled her after her first breakup, the man who taught her chivalry and inspired her love for learning. Her mother’s body was in much better condition, but her ring was gone. However, Brigid was in so much shock that it barely even registered. The indomitable beacon of love and compassion, a healer of the scarred, the woman Brigid aspired to be was dead. Her face was contorted into one of pain and fear. She died unable to save the ones around her. Brigid could barely look into the eyes of the ones who still had theirs. That spark of life was just - gone. It was surreal.

It was different yet exactly the same as when she would look into the eyes of a dead animal. In all of the carnage, Brigid could tell that there were more pools of blood than there were bodies. That’s what they were doing during the silence. They were removing the bodies from the scene.

Brigid turned to the stairs. Immediately, she could see the bodies of Aunt Fiona and Aunt Nessa. Walking up the stairs and past Aunt Fiona’s and Aunt Nessa’s bodies, Brigid entered into the first bedroom facing the front yard. Inside were the bodies of Fiadh, Meabh, Niall, Roisin, and Cara. Cara's small body was all but obliterated by a shotgun blast. Their attackers used buckshot. Fiadh’s body was slumped halfway out the window with brain matter splattered behind where she was standing. Meabh’s body was lying underneath one of the beds, gun in hand, pointing at the doorway. The top part of her skull was gone. Roisin was on one of the top bunks, rifle having fallen to the ground. Out in the hallway and out front, were more messes of blood without the accompanying bodies. Clearly, her family managed to injure or kill many of the attackers, but it was also clear that some got away.

“Dey are goin’ ta die.”, Brigid said, voice distorting into that of a demon’s.

*Present day*

Mac Carthaigh farmhouse
Date: July 16th, time: 4:00 am

*Brigid’s perspective*

Brigid awoke in a cold sweat. A dream, jus’ a dream. Brigid ran her hands down her face and found that she was crying. Brigid sat up in bed and clutched her legs to her chest. Brigid began to weep. The weight of all the emotions and all that happened to her that day and what she became after that day came crashing down upon her once again. That day marked the day she became a monster. She became a creature fueled by anger, hatred, and a need for revenge. That day, her demon was released onto the world.

“Brigid, are you okay?”, Anzhong sleepily asked.

“No, Ah’m not okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dere’s jus’ so much hatred in the world, n’ it spreads like a disease. Me family only wanted ta help dose who needed it, but because we didn’t believe in deir god n’ helped dose who didn’t believe in deir god, we were demonized f’r it. Da discrimination, da violence, da hatred, all a’ it, jus’ why? Ah jus’ can’t understand it, n’ dey spread deir hatred ta me.” Brigid was still sobbing, and Anzhong was hugging her and rubbing her back.

“You can’t understand it because you are a good person. You love everyone too much to let minor differences like religion and social class keep you from having love for them. I won’t pretend to know what you went through, but I do know that you have beaten whatever hatred they’ve spread to you.”

“It’s not dat simple, n’ Ah don’t think Ah c’n explain how.”

Mac Carthaigh farmhouse
Date: same day, time: 4:00 am

*Sunset’s perspective*

Sunset woke up crying. Although, she could not figure out why she was crying. Sunset checked to see if they were her own emotion, or if she was taking on someone else's. She found that these were not her own emotions. It didn’t take long for Sunset to figure out whose emotions these are. These are Mom’s emotions. She’s crying.

Mac Carthaigh family grave
Date: same day, time: 12:00 pm

*Brigid’s perspective*

Brigid had brought Emi and Sunset to a small plot of land not too far away from the house but far away enough that horses were still required to get there. This is where they are all buried. Everyone that Brigid loved for the longest time, dead and in the ground.

“How, that’s a lot of graves.”, Emi said, melancholically.

“Yeah, n’ dese graves shouldn’t have been needed so soon.”, Brigid said.

Sunset didn’t respond, just continued to squeeze Brigid’s hand. “Sunset, dere is some‘hin’ ya need ta understand.”, Brigid said. Sunset turned her head to meet Brigid’s eyes. “When someone goes through something like we have, dey begin to shatter. From dat point, one a’ two ‘hin’s c’n happen. One a’ ‘em is dat we c’n break. When dat happens, we become a danger ta ourselves n’ others. Da other one dat c’n happen is dat we c’n repair. In doin’ dat, we become stronge’. Whicheve’ path ya take, it is important ta know dat ya c’n switch paths. Sometimes, it c’n happen without ya even realizing it.”

“Mental health is a funny thing, isn’t it?”, Sunset said.

“It really is.”, Brigid said.

Author's Note

The Troubles was a real war in Irish history. I highly suggest you look into it yourself. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Troubles