The Dublin Pub

hill of tara2

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He caught a glimpse of eyes, soot-dark in Celtic cream.  There was something insubstantial about her. Or him.  He blamed the beer.

He raised his glass to her and she was gone.  Turned, and found her behind him, lashes shyly shuttered against his bold, woozy New York stare.

“You’re not from here,” he said.  Shouted, rather, against the Irish hum and roar.

She pulled at the silk shirt slipping from one narrow shoulder.  He, peering for cleavage, felt those smudged eyes crinkle with dark irony.  Called the barman.

“What can I get you?”

An American in Dublin.  Would she want Guinness, or whisky?  She – it must be she – turned a narrow, pale wrist towards him.  A sign, he had read, of feminine interest.  Or masculine?

“Neither.”

The barman poured two shots, one for each.  One earring, a four leaf clover set in old silver, dangled green as the liquid in the glass before him.  A Gaelic speciality?

Perhaps.  She drank, and watched him bring the glass to New York lips, too seldom still.

He saw her waver, ghost-like, a shimmer against the golden brimfuls and craic-drunk eyes of the crowded bar.  They stood alone in the damp moonlight, on Tara’s hill, burial place of kings.

She spoke, warm breath in his ear, tickling.

“I don’t understand. I don’t speak the Gaelic,” he said, thinking how very drunk he must be, not to remember.  And yet…

“Neither do I,” said the girl of faerie, breasts flat as a man’s under the silken fog, as she – or it could have been he – drew him beneath the curve of ancient ground.  For there are things older than male, and female, and they speak no language now known, in a Dublin pub.

To celebrate the fact that my novel, Deeper, is on Amazon FREE for the next five days, I’m going to write a tale of dark fantasy each day as the moon sinks below the gum trees!  Join me if you feel in a fey mood, and I’ll link.  To read the latest review of Deeper, hop over to Tome Tender “When it comes to books, who needs shelf control?”.  Dianne has lots of reviews, book giveaways and freebies, and a truly gorgeous front page.

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About turnipsforbreakfast

Rose has two blogs, www.butimbeautiful.wordpress.com, and www.turnipsforbreakfast.wordpress.com. Enjoy!
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13 Responses to The Dublin Pub

  1. Carrie Rubin says:

    “For there are things older than male, and female, and they speak no language now known, in a Dublin pub.”—Loved that line!

    I hope to get to your book this summer. It’s ready and waiting on my Kindle!

  2. The line Carrie mentioned is the same line that grabbed me too. Outstanding. I’m waiting for my PC Kindle to accept delivery of Deeper. Hope to devour it soon.

  3. El Guapo says:

    The best stuff happens in Irish bars.

  4. Frank says:

    This was very sensual! …. Cheers to your effort!

  5. iamnotshe says:

    Hey you! I like your Celtic tale. I’m hoping to get more into blog-reading. Lots of stuff going on with work, etc. BLAH BLAH BLAH!

    You’re doing great with you advertising, marketing, etc.

    I like your new, personal challenge. Bravo!

    • thanks Mel. Marketing, nyer! I don’t like it. But what’s happening with work? I mean, I know stuff is happening, but how’s it all going?

      ________________________________

      • Anonymous says:

        Moving the office by myself; need new job. Would settle for a full time, lower-paying job that didnt suck the life out of me. One of those things.

  6. LillianC says:

    This is lovely! Such economy of words, and yet so much content, like a flourless chocolate cake! Rare is it to find someone who uses ambiguity well.

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