The Martlet
By sean mcnulty
- 258 reads
The Portrush Flyer
I got to know Oran Berrills five years back during my first working year at the Examiner. When going up Forgall Terrace one day, I saw something drop...
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- 1887 reads
Filthy Old Machines
How was I to resist this woman that had controlled my every waking thought for nigh on twenty years? The ability to hold my tongue went on the blink...
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- 1475 reads
by misadventure
I guessed perhaps Lavery was shagging Ida Roche on the sly. Lucy agreed with me. We often gossiped about it. Swapped stories about hearing them going...
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- 1368 reads
Anyone At All
From ‘ The Scouring Tout’ column, The Martlet, March 28 Walking backwards should be uncomfortable and disorienting, and in this case, it was,...
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- 1189 reads
The Left-Handed Son
DEATH NOTICE, The Martlet, October 2 We record, with sincere regret, the deaths of Mr Peter Berrills, the respected auctioneer, and his wife Mrs...
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- 918 reads
A Savage Poindexter
Saturday morning I went for my usual walk up to the old fort, along the back of the wall and past the cemetery, and then down the hill which has that...
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- 1139 reads
INSECT!
This was our first sign of the year in descent. I normally didn’t keep up with the date. It was in my head though because of the Berrills. The other...
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- 1157 reads
A Long Woman
Is that the Long Woman, Mam? I heard a wee boy say to his mother, referring to an old legend we could all at the very least half-remember. The Long...
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- 753 reads
The Politician's Daughter
Ernest Gilgan began to eye up the life of an author when a film was released based on a book (in the romance genre) written by the daughter of a...
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- 2294 reads
I Said Probably Now
Stilt detection, I scoffed, after skimming the page for myself. They never had that issue with you two. Aren’t you a laugh a minute, said Oran. I was...
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- 356 reads
The Memory Lane Business
Had I not been so consumed by the need to work all my life I might have built a sentimental framework for myself. I was human, according to the Civil...
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- 259 reads
Lay Down On Your Brain
There was no Noel anymore. But there was Noel’s grandson. He had the smile of a good man, but from the side you might catch something guarded in his...
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- 304 reads