Bainshee---------------->

Tis' a cautionary tale - and a tale, long in the telling, though the act was short, and merciful.....one night, one dark, lonely night, one night of terror, one night of brilliance, one night of passion like no man has ever equaled. 

We are creatures of our time, and our country.  We are the progeny of our ideas.   The man begets the child begets the man begets the child.

Bone cold, fog rising off the Thames,  dark, and deadly....

Out walking, for even the greatest coward can only stand so much inactivity, until boredom, the greatest terror of all, might catch him up, with it's sweet, deadly embrace.

And I, well, I knew a man.....a man for whom the sweet embraces of a pale, dark haired beauty, lay waiting....she would come to him, through the fog, through the night, clad only in her winding sheet, gray now from long years in the grave. 

Who could love such a thing? 

But, if you know his tale, then, perhaps you will forgive him his nocturnal visitations.  Perhaps.

Nights she would come calling him, this love long dead, this lover better let go, for one of flesh, and bone, and blood.  She was the harbinger, she would weep by the river, and strong men quailed before her mournful cries certain that she came for them.

Ah, let not the sound of a weeping woman be the last thing that he hears on this earth.  Rather the shout of battle, the roar of the cannons.  And still, she came.

 

© 2001 William Cruz.  All rights rabidly reserved
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