Oh well, whatever...

A Story by Lucifuge

Yesterday evening i scrambled up the church wall and looked at one of the last places i had felt right. We would sit here in greasy, long-haired droves and plastic bags fluttered. Waiting. At dark the people with bad trousers, little caps and nothing to say to each other would leave the course to sit in Hope Castle up the hill. They would have tea and look at each others clubs. It was not a Castle. It was a big house with a bar.

What the Hope part meant i was never sure. I still have no clue. We would slip down off the wall and begin to drink. One person would always have mixed contents of a parents drinks-cabinet and they were the most popular.

The group would spit and smoke, hang their hair over their faces and drink cider and wine. There was posturing and groping at intervals. After some hours, we would want to fight or weep out baby-faced woes of how the world had already crushed us.

Delicate little flowers. C***s with no idea. Some of the girls had early insanity, some of the boys came in seconds. Large stones would be pulled from the churchyard wall and we would dig holes in the golf-course. Flags would be torn up and used to discipline the weaker members. In summertime they would be dragged screaming to the lake and thrown off the jetty. There are still wounded looks in bars from people i can no longer name.

I vomited in a girls mouth because her tongue tasted bad. mIne probably did too. Someone would get spat on. Someone would be left asleep by the wall. A couple would go to the bushes.

I sat on Castleblaney Presbyterian Church wall and swigged something i would have had to have stolen back then. We drift but some of us never progress. It had been beautiful and holy down there in the dark, 17 years ago