Writer of fiction and storyteller of legends. I write for adults and children with most of my inspiration arising from the ancient tales of Ireland, nature and life. I have short stories published in various anthologies and have been placed in a number of competitions. Some of the anthologies that I have contributed to can be purchased here: https://www.creativeardaghcraftshop.com/
Local heritage and history inspire me and I have written newspaper articles on this theme. Poetry and blogging happens on occasion when the muses visit.
I perform the legends of Ireland in costume with Annette Corkery as Scéalta Beo (Living Stories) at schools and festivals. We also perform in Ardagh Heritage and Creativity Centre, our homebase. Check us out here: https://scealtabeo.blogspot.com/
Volunteer work includes Longford Community Resources Limited Board of Directors, Committee member of Longford County Childcare Committee, Founder member of Cruthú Arts Festival and Gaelscoil an Longfoirt. Treasurer of Longford Writer's Group.
I’ve always been uncomfortable about leaving this beautiful planet to go to some place they call heaven. Why would I want to? When we aren’t destroying this wonder and stop and look around to breathe it in, this is heaven. The smell of lavender, the sound of the bees, the song of the birds, the playfulness of cats and dogs, goats, and donkeys. The beauty of every plant from the humble daisy and dandelion to the proud and beautiful rose. The tinkling streams and boisterous waves, the soft day, thank god rain to terrifying flashes of lightening and thundering storms. The wonder in a baby’s eyes, the laughter of children, the love of youth, the old couple walking down the street before you holding hands, the joy. The art, music, craft and creations, the beautiful minds. This, this is heaven, and why would we leave her. I hope when this very badly designed machine my spirit resides in gives up that my spirit stays to be… just be… here to watch and wonder at the beauty of it all.
When I was little and barely talking I used to say “I able” and my mother thought I meant I was and used to say “so do it” and I’d get so frustrated and throw tantrums and what have you. She figured out eventually that “I able” was me saying I wasn’t able, I couldn’t, and I needed help and then understood my frustration.
“I’m so much more than a bus for bugs, and I’m not putting up with it any longer,” said Saoirse Snail angrily as she shook Laoise Ladybird off her for the third time that morning.
“Do you know, I carried Blue Beetle on my back for hours last night and as for Gary Greenshield, he doesn’t even ask, he just lands and hitches a lift every morning with no please or thank you, I’ve had enough,”
Laoise was a bit taken aback, Saoirse was usually in such good humour and never minded before if she asked for a lift.
The early morning chat was Laoise’s favourite part of the day. She liked chatting away to Saoirse happily about everything and anything and thought Saoirse did too.
This a revelation thought Laoise. She knew that Saoirse was proud of the ancient Snail Silk Trail of Bottom of the Garden. Her family, as far back as the stories went. had taken the same journey from their safe abode under the rocks to the Garden of Abundant Vegetables far down the trail every night. Along the way, many smaller insects hitched a lift. That was the way it was, and is, and always will be, so why was Saoirse so unhappy about it suddenly this morning?
“Oh Saoirse, what is the matter?” asked Laoise.
“I’m just sick of it!” said Saoirse, and she retracted into her shell.
This isn’t good, isn’t good at all thought Laoise, the cool morning is nearly over and Saoirse hasn’t had breakfast, she should eat before she goes into her shell for the day or she may fall asleep for a very long time.
Snails often hibernate in winter and have been known to do so in dry summers, too. This, however, was not a dry summer. It was one of abundant food, so Saoirse should be stocking up for her winter sleep and to help her shell grow strong.
“Saoirse, there is some lovely lettuce in the garden this morning. Come and eat,” said Laoise. Saoirse ignored her. Laoise was worried. She knew Saoirse as long as she knew anyone, and she never saw her so sad before. She wasn’t sure what she should do. She waited for a while, but Saoirse did not reappear, so Laoise went to get her breakfast.
When Laoise returned, she carried with her a leaf of lettuce with the help of Gary Greenshield and Blue Beetle. They were happy to help. When Laoise told them that Saoirse, quiet and peaceful, Saoirse had thrown Laoise off and retreated to her shell they knew something had to be wrong.
Blue Beetle had been in a slumber when Laoise called him to help, and Gary had been sunning himself on a leaf, but busy as they were resting, they went anyway. Blue Beetle tapped on the shell. No reply.
Gary called out “Saoirse, I’m sorry if I took you for granted, I never even thought.” No reply.
Laoise called out, “Saoirse, I have your favourite type of lettuce here.” No reply.
The three friends sat outside Saoirse’s shell wondering what to do. This was not the Snail they knew. What could be troubling her?
As they sat, they talked. They talked about the weather, the multitude of swallows, and housemartins that surrounded their realm. The giants in the big castle had decided to let nature alone, let the grass and wildflowers grow. Before this, they were mowing down the clover, daisies, buttercups, and dandelions before they got a chance to bloom. It was getting a bit scary the attention their world was getting from frogs and even newts now, too.
On the plus side, there was an abundance of food as the meadow grew, and the giants planted fruit and nut trees and lots of scrumptious vegetables. The journey to and from the Garden of Abundant Vegatables to the Bottom of the Garden took much longer and was more difficult, but Saoirse made it easier for them and never complained.
They all went quiet, and Laoise tapped on the shell. “Saoirse, sorry we never noticed how hard you already worked, and then how much harder you had to work just to keep us comfortable. You should have said something.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” mumbled Saoirse from within the shell.
“Sometimes things don’t get noticed until you point them out,” said Gary Greenshield, master of disguise. “I regularly get unseen, but that suits me here in this dangerous but oh so beautiful world.”
“We didn’t notice because you made it look so easy, and you’re so quiet, going about your business without a sound” said Blue.
“Not like you!” Laoise laughed. Everyone made fun of Blue for the noise that this ground beetle made scuttling across the stones. He wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Saoirse had popped her head out while they laughed and was munching on the leaf her friends had brought. Happy again, she enjoyed the chitchat they were having. They looked over at her and smiled. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. A little recognition for making things look easy that are evidently not.
Every day, it seems humanity willingly digs deeper into the mud, drowning and suffocating in their own stubborn, egotistical greed.
This can all be stopped. It takes courage and a clear logical mind, but somehow, we consistently place the wrong people in leadership roles. We consistently place narcissistic, egotistical, cruel, and apathetic people in these roles, and then we wonder why the rest of us are in constant despair, depression, anxiety, and ultimately danger.
The bully of the schoolyard leads us all into inevitable annihilation. We’re witnessing this on the world stage presently with a madman dictating to all the world, committing genocide in full view, his sidekicks aiding and abetting him while he gaslights anyone who disagrees. Why do we insist on repeating history instead of learning from it?
Moving the magnifying glass downwards from global chaos to our own, we drain our bogs instead of protecting biodiversity, we gift large grant aid to profiteering semi-states while those wishing to make the world better must lick the boots of the administrators for crumbs as if it is money from their own pockets they distribute. We change the laws for greedy developers to destroy our heritage. We turn a blind eye to large-scale pollution and destruction by industrial type agri businesses. The pyramid scheme has been proven again and again to be disastrous for this world, but we still continue abusing the vulnerable and exulting the greedy.
Every day, it seems we’ve entered a sci-fi horror series, and we’re stuck doing the opposite of what we can and should. Every single day.
I never really got in trouble much because I just stayed underneath the radar, did enough, responded as was expected, and was invisible until I wasn’t.
When I wasn’t and got seen, I quickly retreated back again as it was too much. Too much for them and too much for me. So much so I often got the message very directly said, “Nobody likes you, you know,” or just the look would do it.
One time I did get noticed was when I was watching the crow outside the window, jealously wishing I had its freedom. I’ve felt all my life that I was caged, bound in by all that others wanted and need when all I wanted was to fly away just as the crow did when it was finished watching me.
“Ms. Gerety, ” this formal teacher said, “I asked you a question. What is the answer?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening, sorry”
“What were you doing?”
“Watching the crow outside the window”
The sniggering started, the teacher looked straight at me and said:
“well, you can write an essay on The Crow tonight”
She looked straight at me over her glasses and I knew it wasn’t a punishment but that she saw me. And she did. I let out the obligatory groan none the less.
The class laughed at me for having to do some extra homework while I spent the rest of the class composing the masterpiece for my favourite teacher.
Was it a masterpiece, no, but it wasn’t the last extra essay, and I cherished the constructive criticism received in her beautiful handwriting. She was a lady, terrifying at times, but I loved her, and she knew my studying the crow was not disrespectful but necessary.
Ann Gerety Smyth 