#’his da used to make bombs for the ira’ you know not everyone in belfast was in the ra right?

[sharpbutsoft]

Alright okay fine i did it i started watching leverage are you’re all so correct it is a beautiful sexy show about the most autistic people in the world doing robin hood crimes and flirting with each other. And i love it.

[kittenofanarchy]

Choleen Part 25

Her eyes were cold and lifeless as she stared at me. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

             I was standing outside the new clubhouse smoking when I caught someone coming towards the building. No one really bothered us anymore unless the deals that we had in place with others started to rock a little, but then we were just there to remind everyone why things were the way they were. It had been four years since Jax had tied everything up and went out in his fathers’ footsteps. Under the front of a semitruck, it had also been four years since Choleen had disappeared. I kept an eye on the person and when they were within a few feet of Red Woody I pulled my gun, I didn’t recognize the person who was hiding in their hood. “Show yourself?” I growled, the hood was lowered and the girl I realized stepped into the light. Her eyes were cold and lifeless as she stared at me, a chill ran down my spine. I had a vague sense that I knew who this was.

             She stared at me waiting for me to give another order. Her hands remained in her pockets never moving. There was a knife on her belt one that I recognized as being Clays. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” the girl questioned.

             The accent that she talked with instantly gave her away, I knew without a doubt that it was Choleen I just didn’t know why she had come back after so long. “What happened to you?”

             “I went home. Found Trinity, Mo was dead already. There was no point in leaving her there. Then I went to find Fiona and Kerri to bring them back to Chibs, but there was a slight problem there. Fiona was dead. Apparently when the IRA imploded on itself due to what Jackson set up bombs went off everywhere. Fiona was caught in the crossfire. Kerri was a bit burnt but wasn’t hurt too badly.” Chol shrugged. She looked dark. There was no light in her navy-blue eyes, something that was always there even after everything that she had been through. The light muscle tone that she had when she left was more pronounce now and I had no doubts that she was armed to the teeth.

             “Still why come back now?” I asked not sure if I should lower my gun or not.

             “Kerri wanted to see her Da’ I couldn’t deny her that right and I can’t leave Trin in Belfast alone. Too much fighting happening there still. Jackson caused a war before he died that hasn’t ended. You boys are just spared from that fight.”

             “So, you just came back for Kerrianne’s sake.” I questioned not believing her.

             “Currently I don’t even know if I am allowing them near here. Not until I know that it is a safe thing to do” I heard the warning. She would walk away again if we weren’t following the path that was set for us. I would like to say that it didn’t disappoint me, but it did.

             “If you’re asking if we followed the rules your bother set for us then yes. Now you want to bring them in or is it just you right now.” I snapped. I wasn’t playing these games. She was the one who walked away from us. She left the family not us.

             “I’ll be back” was all she said melting back into the dark that surrounded the docks. I scoffed and went inside to warn everyone who was coming. Chibs was ecstatic to hear that his daughter was still alive. He had heard about Fiona and thought that he had lost Kerri as well. The rest were glad to hear the Chol was alive. I wasn’t sure how I felt, she had walked away at the worst moment in Sons history. Not to say that we hadn’t cause enough trouble for her, that she hadn’t also been hurt.

             I was not happy to be back, as rough as Belfast could be, I would rather be there. This place did not have the memories attached to it that I could handle on a good day. Except what Ker wanted I gave her. And she wanted to see her Da’ so here we were seeing Da’. I went and picked them up from the nearby hotel that I had rented a room in, at least if they were under my name nobody could say anything about them being here in the first place. I drove back to the warehouse that was now the new Red Woody porn studio and took a deep breath. “You sure this is what you want Ker?” I questioned reaching for her hand. I had parked a little away so that if she changed her mind no one would know.

             “I am” she said quietly, squeezing my hand.

             “Alright.” I sighed. Getting out of the car I moved around and opened the door for her, helping her out I kept a tight hold on her. Pulling her into my side, making sure that Trinity was also out of the car before I locked it. Trin walked on my other side but kept a small space from us. She had lost her boyfriend, the Belfast Prospect a few weeks ago and hadn’t yet recovered. “Trin?” I questioned before we reached the door.

             “I’m ok. Just missing Micah is all” she said quietly bumping my shoulder slightly. I gave her a small smile and grabbed her hand as it swung.

             “Well I wish he was here too.”  We had made it to the door and I just opened it leading the way into the warehouse, never letting go of Ker’s hand. The place looked nothing like she remembered, but then again, the last time she had been there Abby had been killed. She wouldn’t set foot in the building after that. “Where’s Chibs?” I questioned, pulling Ker and Trin closer to me. Not recognizing everyone in the room.

             “Who’s asking.” Some dude said. “We aren’t hiring talent currently, but I can figure something out for you to do” he said and made a rude gesture to us.

             I had him on the ground before anyone could make a move. Standing over him, knife from my belt in hand I growled. “Woah woah” Trin got in front of me, not something many people would do. “Choleen you know that we are here for something right. Not to kill this idiot.” She placed her hands on my shoulders, Kerrianne was pulling me away. Both keeping me from harming the man.

             “What the hell happened here?” I heard a voice I recognized walking down the hall. The man that we had come to see in the first place.

             “The bitch just hit me!” the man yelled.

             I started to snarl at him before Chibs cut me off, “Well if it isn’t the girls of the hour.” I turned to look at him, he had his arms wide open and Ker let go of me before launching into them with a yell of Da’ along the way.

“Chonacthas an t-ardán sin go raibh muid ag tallainne. Fucking Dick. Ba chóir é a mharú ach amháin le glacadh le cac nach bhfuil a fhios aige.” (That bastard thought that we were going to be talent. Fucking dick. Should kill him just for assuming shit he doesn't know.) I snarled, Trin had kept a hair behind me so I didn’t try to take the man to the ground again, this time with a knife lodged in his throat.

Trinity responded to that, “Tá sé seo le haghaidh cuimhneamh ar Kerrianne. Tá muid anseo léi a fheiceáil nach bhfuil sí ar do shon chun an cac a bhualadh as duine.” (This is for Kerrianne remember. We are here for her to see her Da' not for you to beat the shit out of someone.)

Chibs looked at me then, “Feicim nach bhfuil tú ag athrú beagán leanbh fiáin. An Tríonóide Caithfidh mé a rá go raibh sé tamall.” (I see you haven't changed little wild child. Trinity, I have to say it has been some time.)

“It has been quite some time. Are my nephews around?”

“No, they live with Abel’s mum a few hours from here. They aren’t scheduled to visit for a while. Now Kerri how have you been my girl?” he asked looking down at her.

She stepped away and towards where I was standing with Trin. Grabbing my hand, she took a deep breath, “I have been well thank you to Chol here. She made sure that I was safe after mum. I also am in a relationship with her.” Chibs just stared at the two of us. I moved to stand in front of her if he lost his shit.

“Are you saying that you two have been dating?” he ran his hand across his head, patting down his kutte.

“For two years now.” I said with confidence. He promptly turned and slammed the door he had come out of. “Bhuel a chuaigh go maith mo ghrá.” (Well that went well my love.) I smiled at her. Together we all walked to sit at the bar. The man I took to the ground seemed unsure as to how to handle me which was fine by my standards.

[overthemournes-blog]

Over The Mournes...

I was born in 1915 in Co. Donegal during a time when the Brits were not here. Life was enjoyable, I remember waking up each day to the smell of Irish Soda Bread, and porridge (with salt) that my mother would make for me every morning before I went to school. She had been doing this since the age of five. I remember that we lived in a small cottage, in Milford close to the border with Northern Ireland.

I remember walking to school along through the windy fields, and forbidden roads with my best friend Michael O’Leary. We would laugh and joke about the teachers that we really did not like:-(especially Mr. O’Neill) he was a Protestant, but he was also our English teacher... for some unknown reason I would also get an uncomfortable feeling when being taught by him, it was as if there was a volcanic rage waiting to burst out with flames and destruction.

Looking back at my time at school, was very much a marvellous experience. I use to enjoy every class I sat in, we learned about Atoms and Particles in Science, we learned about The Great Famine in History, and in PE we use to play football, I loved that part of the day as it was when we pretended to be the reds of Manchester United against the blues of Chelsea. The only part of the day I did not like, was when we had Mr. O’Neill.

I recall one day (especially) in the Winter of 1930 we were learning about The Easter Rising in class, and how our nation came to be the Ireland we acknowledge it to be today. Mr O’Neill told us about the great heroes that died in Ireland. He spoke of Joseph Plunkett, Patrick Pearse and most notably James Connolly.  He told us that he has also looked up to these very people, and expressed his purified envy of not doing what they had done during the Dublin Rebellion. Everyone in the class started questioning what it was they had done?... Michael turned around and said to me, “what do you think Malachy?”

I just looked at him and said, “that I don’t what to think Michael.” I remember class finishing, myself and Michael wondered back through the empty roads and windy fields. I walked through my gate and inside my house where my parents were sitting there with the fire on. The entire room was full of smoke; I could barely see two yards ahead of me.  My mother smiled at me and asked, “how my day was at school?” I just sat there and said, that it was good. I vividly recall my dad sitting there with his pipe, and his face full of smoke... he was exhaled quickly and pounded every last bit of smoke through his nose on to me, where it cuddled my body and gently whispered away to the rolling fields behind us.

His face was potent and gazed. He began to whisper ‘Ireland’s Call’ for no apparent reason. It was then (amongst the lyrics) he began to say, ‘I know what it was Mr. O’Neill was talking to you about today Malachy.” “I said he wasn’t talking of anything Da!’ “Ballshit...” he began to raise his voice, he spat out his pipe and backhanded me telling me, “DON’T YOU THINK THIS COUNTRY HAS SUFFERED ENOUGH WITHOUT THE BRITS!?”  blood came pouring out like the infamous Niagra Falls. I was screaming in pain, my mother tried holding back me dad, but he wouldn’t stop, he kept repeating himself until I could no longer take anymore.

I woke up the next day black and blue, I felt like a hot rod had been planted on my face. I felt like a brick wall being knocked down by a pickaxe. I walked downstairs, where my mother sat there crying, there was no breakfast on the table, neither no fire lit, the house was empty feeling like endless tunnel weeds gently blowing themselves across the floor. It was at the point I began to think of what Mr O’Neill had told me back in class. I thought that if Paul Connolly had failed being hung in Kilmainham Goal why can’t I succeed him, and unify Ireland once again, and drive the Brits along with the Protestants out.  

I packed a brief bag, full of some clothes, some bread and apples. I stepped into the living room, I swiftly held my hand on my mother’s shoulder, telling her that all “would be okay, and there was nothing to worry about.” I walked outside from the barn, stepping towards my dad- I passed him and he just looked ahead into the abyss. I ignored the ever-present present look of rage and disgust upon his face and knocked on the door of Michael O’Leary. I shouted “Michael, Michael” he opened the door, and asked, “why it was I had a bag?” “I confidently told him that I was going to Belfast...” It was at that point, his parents came to the door and took Michael away.

I slowly walked down the road, whilst looking at Michael’s house, Michael’s face appeared at the window, we starred for a brief moment until the curtains were swiftly shut out of sight and mind to my acknowledgement. I came to a crossroad- once had to bus stop that was going to Belfast, and the other that was going to Galway. I jumped straight onto the bus heading to Belfast. I remember the journey there being at least 4 hours and 30 minutes, it was moronic... so I began to sing Ireland’s call to myself:-(”Come the day and come the hour, Come to the power and the glory! We have come to answer our country's call, From the four proud provinces of Ireland Ireland, Ireland, Together standing tall! Shoulder to shoulder, We'll answer Ireland's call!”) Everyone inside the bus, start to turn there heads with annoyance, only to make me laugh for some time. I fell asleep until we arrived in a darkened Belfast that seemed plagued with strong socialist and nationalistic views of the country. I got off the bus, and all I could hear was endless echoes and voices screaming ‘BRING THE BRITS BACK’ & UNIFY THE IRELAND JAMES CONNOLLY ONCE SAW.’

I stood amazed by this show of patriotism and felt I would like some of that. It was at that point I found myself walking down Crumlin Road, where I passed the famous Crumlin Road Jail. It was then, I bumped into two men in wearing army uniforms and balaclavas. They stormed past me, one of them barged he’s shoulder next to mine. He turned around, and pointed his gun at me, shouting “DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM LADDY!?” The man next to him put his arm on the gun, telling him “John don’t do it!’ He pulled his gun away, and they both wondered off.

It was then I realised that those two men were the sort of people that Mr O’Neill uses to talk about the in English. So I ran up to them, and told them that I was “looking to be a part in the IRA!” They turned around and began to laugh at me! ...”Haha you want to be in the IRA boyo?...have you seen the size of yourself? It looks like you can barely lift ‘two-needles-from-a-haystack’ I smirked at them both and punched one of them in the face. He fell to the floor, ripping a hole on the back of his trousers. The man next to him, began to laugh! He put his arm around me and said, “now I can see why you  to be a member of the IRA... you whispered within my ear, you realise what it is we do right?”

I slowly nodded my head and began my mind took me to a fantasised Ireland where there was no border, neither Protestants and only Catholics were apparent as the days of the 16th Century before we were annexed via King Henry VIII. We wondered to an alleyway on the Crumlin, John pulled my collar and shoved into a car...’I asked where it was we were going?’ Nobody said a thing, until the driver said, “Bóthar na bhFál we’re going to see a very special man” we passed through the city centre, where all I can were endless riots and people throwing petrol bombs and tear gas at each other. The atmosphere felt intense, I wanted to run away until I reminded myself of what it was I was here.

We arrived at a desolated garage in West Belfast, John threw me out the car and on to the ground. He told me to ‘move’ whilst pointing an AK-47 to my back. I remember entering the garage; it was pitch black until I saw a glimmer of light, and a chair in the middle of the room. The garage itself was freezing cold, with puddles everywhere (to the naked eye). John pushed me on the chair and started to interrogate me. He started to punch me in the face telling me, ‘how do you like it now kiddo... huh?...huh?...huh?’ My face felt swollen I could hardly speak nor see anything two yards ahead of me.  

The other man (I never knew his name) who was in the corner of the room, lit up a cigarette  and asked me ‘so why is it you want to be in The IRA boyo?’ I just said to them that, ‘to get the Brits out’ they started laughing again. ‘Do you not think there’s a bigger picture than just to ‘get-the-Brits-out?’ I responded with nothing, and just sat there shrugging my shoulders.’ A voice appeared out of nowhere saying, ‘they will never learning’ it came closer and closer until I could see someone descend from the darkened confinements. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, he looked rather a mot (good) I must of said at the time. He told the two men to let me go. The cut the rope around my hands, and they throw me into the puddle, where I started to puke from the horrible stench that surrounded this derelict place.

‘I heard you want to be in The I.R.A’ he said to me. I just nodded and said ‘yes’ to him. Let’s for a little ride. We got back into the car, and we drove to the docks, in the North of the city. We got the car, but everyone started loading there guns for some reason, I just couldn’t tell why at the moment... until they opened the boot, and inside were two brothers that were blindfolded and duck tapped screaming their hardest. They had them on their knees, John swiftly passed me reloading the gun and then threw to me. Telling me to prove myself. The I.R.A commander (man in the suit) started to read out the crimes that they had committed against The I.R.A:

-”You are stood with us today, as you have both committed crimes against the Irish.Provisional Army, you have willingly provided information to U.N. (British Army) which in consequence you have not solemnly swear, to the best of you’re abilities, I will support and defend The Government of the Irish Republic, which is to all Erne and all enemies foreign and domestic, and will bear true faith to the allegiance, and I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of invasion so help me god.”

The two brothers started crying and dribbling on the floor. Asking them to beg for mercy. The commander told them to shut up, you Victorian-ass-lickers! They took their blindfolds off, and John told me to shoot them both in the head. So I walked behind them both and was caught in a brief moment of solitude. It was at that point my mind started talking to me: ‘DO YOU THINK THIS COUNTRY HASN’T ALREADY SUFFERED ENOUGH?’ & John shouting to me ‘DO IT, DO IT , DO IT, IT’S AN ORDER!’ I breathed in for a few seconds, and shot the first brother in the back of the head, where his head exploded on the dampened floor, I then shot the second brother in the same place, where blood just came pouring out of his head and into the River Lagan, where it started to change to the colour red. 

The commander and volunteers started laughing, ‘I couldn’t plan that better if I did that myself.’ I turned my head away from them and became in a state of shock for some time of what I had just done. It was at the moment, my life started to flash before my very eyes... it was all just too much for to bare, so I remember passing out on the floor; waking up in the commander's house. I gently opened my eyes to quietness, where he stood there asking if I was okay?’ I slowly brought myself up to sitting level, and told him that, ‘I cannot remember, what happened?’ The commander sighed for a few moments and then started opening up about his past. He said that ‘I was like you once you know boy, I had a dream to reunite Ireland without borders or trespassers, I remember getting kicked out of my own home for expressing unorthodox views about the state, I remember losing everything that loved and cared for me back then.

But I learned not to miss those who loved me once because I always knew Ireland would love to be back the same as I do it. He became frustrated and started to question whether all this fighting was worth something. I sat there and told of that of course it was, you just cannot see it beneath all the sectarianism going in within the country. He started to put his head in his hands, and just repeatedly shook his head... telling me, ‘do you know how long I have been fighting for this bittersweet freedom kid?’ ‘No’ I said. ...30 years, 30 years I have fought for this country to be together once again.’ I sat there with endless surprise, so I put my arm around him, and told him ‘it will not be too long now.’

He pushed me away, telling me that, ‘you are not from my generation- so you would not understand.’ I shrugged off what he had told me, and got him a glass of water, and then left out of the front door. I wandered down the road out of Bull Road, and further up The Falls Road, and back into the city... where during which, I saw many children throwing endless petrol bombs, and nappies that were full-of-shit at the British Soldiers that plotted throughout the entirety of the city. That was seemingly becoming increasingly distant like watching the Nubian Pyramids sinking in the Sudanese sands of The Sahara Desert.

It became heartbreakingly bewildering of what it was we were fighting for?... Was it for the very unification of Ireland, or was it to become more loyal to British rule? It perplexed me into a profound impressionistic state of mind, where I found myself drowning within my mindful currents- where the highest point was the underlying confinement of a mirage that mirrored the lightful reflection from the moon, and on to the ocean. It looked white but became progressively depressive after acknowledging where in the world it was. It was like it did not want to be here, and neither did anyone else stubbornly. 

I became isolatedly introverted and unresponsive to the reality that was surrounding my very presence. I tried hard not to be accompanied by these personalistic fractions but stood unapprehensively fearful to the notion of socialistic pressures... that swarmed at me like a pack of unremorseful starving sharks hunting for food, like their life's had already dependent on it. It scared me for some time, I began to rain so I carried on home (later turned into running). I woke up the next day, with a pounding headache that felt like a ‘bull in a China shop’ without reason nor niceness or just came into my mindful existence. 

I made myself some porridge, and head back over to my commander's house. I go to his door, and it was already open; so I just pushed it more-so. Inside the house where a group of Provisionals dressed in full uniform, they all looked at me, until one of the walked towards me asking where my “uniform was?” “I said that I had not ne got it.” The soldier raised his voice and began to call me disloyal to our beloved Ireland. I was about to storm out the door until my commander came walking down the stairs telling me to get dressed- whilst he threw a uniform at me. The other soldiers gasped and started to question the policy that stood so richly within the I.R.A’s veins. I got suited and booted and wondered out the front door to wait for the others. During that time I heard whispering coming from the kitchen: “No what I want you to do Breanden is to go around the back of the house, firing shots at the window, causing a distraction for the mother and kids- whilst we go upstairs looking for that bastard Roy O'Connell and show him what it’s truly like to be Irish!!!”

The came rushingly out of the kitchen, where I pushed myself back out of the letterbox and back on looking at the ground. They pulled me telling me to get into the car. They loaded the boot, with AK-47′s, Rocket Launchers and a heavy amount of grenades. I turned away in despair, wondering what was about to happen...I plucked the courage to take another look and saw all of the soldiers (including the commander) put a Desert Eagle down each of they’re trousers whilst smiling on towards the horizon. They got the car, and one of the soldiers slapped around the side of the head. I grunted at him and looked out of the window. The commander and soldiers began laughing and joking about how stupid they the British were being Ireland until the commander saw me looking at him in the mirror... he paused for a brief moment, whilst I stared at him (worryingly) until he heard a nearby lorry horned at him!

We arrived outside a working-class house in the South of Belfast, it was early, it was at least 06:30 am in the morning I was barely awake. Everyone quickly got out of the car and loaded themselves with the guns that they had brought with them. The commander opened the door and pulled me out, giving me an AK-47 telling me to “shoot when told to.” I anxiously nodded at him. John rushed around the back, and over the fence where he began firing shots at the window... during I started to hear endless screams from the house. The screams were of the terrified women and three children that were there trying effortlessly to hide away from the accolade they found themselves deep within. 

I heard a shouting voice from the distance, it was Roy trying to jump from the window. The commander told him that he was at the window top, so he booted the back door open and ran upstairs where he narrowly got hold of Roy and pulled him back to the bedroom that was covered with an ocean of glass and a darkened (coal-like) carpet and sheets. John pulled Roy by the hair downstairs and onto the street, he tried crawling away, until the commander said, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you.’ Roy spat blood back into the commanders face, and told him to get of his face ‘you Fenlan cunt!’

He fired two shots, one in his left and the other in his right leg. Whilst the other put duck tape around his mouth and a black sack around his face, whilst tieing him up shoving him in the boot. We sped away, whilst his wife and children came hurriedly (out) tripping on to the pavement crying into the distance asking for justice, whilst I could only look back in sympathetic despair. 

We arrived in a place called Armagh, where there was a waterfront that flowed through the town, we pushed Roy out the boot and onto the beaten ground. Where the commander told me to shoot him, and if I didn’t that I would get shoot. So I quickly breathed in, and shoot him without thought. Blood splattered everywhere and into the river, it trickled never to see it again. I threw the gun in the water, in utter disbelief of frustration and anger back into the backseat I put myself back within.