Monday, July 2, 2012
Fr. Kevin flipped the pillows, looking for a cool side, and settled in bed more comfortably. He was in that "twilight state"...somewhere between dozing and actually sleeping, and in his head, he mentally worked on shutting the windows of the day's troubling events. A few snores later, when he believed himself to be firmly ensconced in "La La" land, he was sure he felt the end of the bed shift, and small feet rumple the cloth of the comforter. "Must be the cat." his sleepy head thought. It took a few more seconds for reality to catch up, and for his brain to process the fact that he was currently at Holy Family, and that this rectory was pet free. With a start, he quickly jumped up, and locked eyes with the strange little fellow he had seen a few days ago.
"What the hell!" he shouted, desperately looking for something he might use as a defensive weapon Finding nothing suitable, he grabbed one of the heavy books on his night stand and brandished it as a club.
" Himself is planning on whomping me with the Good Book? Not very sporting, tis it now?" chuckled the wee man.
Laying the book back on the nightstand, Kevin rubbed his eyes, and shook his head, trying to wake himself from the dream he was sure he was having. "Go away! You're a damn figment of my over worked brain. Too much stress...too much caffeine."
The man settled his tiny back against the footboard, and folded his arms across his chest, "Weary it tis, all this disbelief on your part. Surely stuff and nonsense, and keeping us from the task at hand"
Ignoring the conversation, Fr. O'Kenney lay back down, covering his face with the comforter, and counting to a thousand, slowly and deliberately. When he finished, he cautiously peeked out from under the blanket. To his dismay, the man was still there, smiling at him and shaking his head, the acorn cap wobbling with every movement.
"I've been dealing with your people for a long time, lad. The O'Briens have always been stubborn ones. Why, your granny and I had many goings on before she came to trust me. Ah, Margaret. I do miss that lassie. All fire and spit, that one. You get the red hair and the gift from her, I reckon. The cowardice must be gotten from the O'Kenneys, mind ya."
Annoyed at being called a coward by his own subconscious, Kevin flipped off the protection of his bed sheets, and shook a finger at his visitor. "Okay, wise guy...if you've been appearing to my family for all these years, why is it I'm just seeing you now in the last few days, huh? Explain that!"
"The gift comes when it comes. Simple as that. You see me now because it is the way of things"
"Oh come now! You really want me to believe that I'm sitting here at two in the morning,
discussing my life with a living, breathing sidhe. I stopped believing in fairy folk when I left elementary school. What I need to do is figure out why I'm having this lapse in my mental health. I'm pretty sure it's the stress of the murder, but I'm not sure why it's caused me to begin hallucinating!"
"Oh ye of little faith."
"I have plenty of faith... in God. It's just fairies and wee ones that don't exist."
"Ah, then lad, you be believing that there are limits to what the Creator can create?"
Kevin opened his mouth to extol on the topic, but realized he didn't really have a good response to that statement. Before he could formulate one, the little man jumped to the brass bed post, and wagged his finger back at the confused priest. "Himself needs to listen more, and talk less." And with a tip of his odd hat, he was gone.