This is a story I started to work on when I wasn't so well recently when my kidneys were playing up and I was having to spend a lot of time in bed. I have some other chapters more less how I want them and surprisingly for me most of the storyline sketched out already.
Let me know what you think, - all criticism welcome.
'Pooka' © Anne Welborn 2015
1st Draft.
(Author's note: Source Wikipedia.
The puca (Irish for spirit/ghost), pooka, phouka, phooka, phooca, or puca , is primarily a creature of Irish folklore. Considered to be bringers both of good and bad fortune, they could either help or hinder rural and marine communities. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses, goats and rabbits. They may also take a human form, which includes various animal features, such as ears or a tail.}
Chapter One: Death in the Family.
They'd left him kneeling in the Autumn leaves beside the open grave, that was something that didn't surprise Pokk in the slightest. Why not? - the show was over, - or at least this bit was. On on to the next exciting installment. Run run to the shiny motorcars and drive away. Pokk scowled, crouching behind an old Oak tree that was the only refuge in this nasty sterile modern cemetery with only flat bronze plaques with words on to mark each burying place was not what she would wish for on such a day.
For Her there should've been a funeral pyre on the shore the air full of the sound of the sea. Folk weeping, and laughing and dancing for the joy of the memory of Her. And the drinking too and the storytelling. If She was here now She would be saying, 'No scowling or ill temper now Pokk,' but She wasn't, She was in that box in that hole awaiting somebody to shovel earth on top of her. The only ones around the graveside who'd meant anything they'd said, - excepting him of course, - had been the priest, Rare enough in these unholy times, but there you go there's still a surprise or two to be had. At least now the priest was gone which was a relief because such as herself and the church had not been ones to see eye to eye too often.
Only now there was a decision to make and this great old Oak tree she was resting the palms of her hands on was no help to her either. Put here in this melancholy patch of dirt no wonder the poor thing had nothing to say to her. The way of it was that the debt they had between them should have been paid well and truly on Her death, only she'd gone and made her promise to stick by him and see that he'd be alright. It shouldn't've been the way of it at all, but She'd been persuasive and like a fool she'd gone and agreed to it. Nothing for it then, loosing a sigh so deep it nearly came from the soles of her feet Pokk let go of the Oak tree's trunk and walked out from under its leafy shade. On the way across Pokk thought it might be a good idea to make herself human sized so it was just as well he was kneeling with his back to her. And then she remembered about her tail so had to quickly wind it around her waist under her tartan miniskirt and poke the end into her fundament to make sure it didn't go dropping down and scaring anybody. Wearing a smiley face tee shirt wasn't so appropriate either so she made it black all over so it would look decently funeral like. The clothes she had on were a gift from Her bought from Woolworths all that time ago. A time back when things had been simple and the future filled with innocent hope.
He was weeping, no big snotty sobs or anything, just tears running down his face. To be left like this on his own was a ->-bleeped-<-ty thing for anybody to do to him and for all that lot who'd been standing round the grave to go off and leave him said plenty for the depth of what they thought of him. Reaching out Pokk put her hands lightly on his shoulders working the touch so she wouldn't scare the life out of him.
'Oh,' he said looking up at her his face all pale and streaky, 'It's you.' Getting a better grip on his arm she helped him to his feet. Mud had stuck crumbly brown Autumn leaves onto the knees of his trousers, only with him being so wobbly on his feet Pokk thought they'd keep for later. No sense in trying to tidy him up only to have him pitch over into the grave.
'You're Maeve's friend,' he said to her in a tired and vacant sounding tone of voice while leaning on her. He waved a hand vaguely at the velvet collar she always wore around her neck. 'The Irish girl, - you had an accident.... you can't speak.......' Taking a better hold of him she eased him around to face the direction of the roadway running through the cemetery. He wasn't so heavy to hold up, but Pokk hoped that it might come to mind before not too long for him to start leaving off being so limp and useless. 'Yes I remember now, - your name's Pokk.....'
Well that'd gone and done it, he'd said her name while she was under the hold of a deathbed promise so there was nothing for it but to put up with it. 'Didn't see you at the funeral,' he said as she got him moving towards the place where his car was parked. 'Don't blame you, - pack of bastards.......' At least he wasn't labouring under any illusions that was one good thing to say about it. 'I loved her you know......,' that was all he got out before he broke down and started sobbing again. And there it was, the reason why the promise had been wrung out of her. After a moment or two she got him moving again. Truth be told she had no desire to linger any longer amongst these rows of forgotten dead so her reasons for keeping him walking were not entirely honest.
Finally she got him to where his car was parked, a great huge thing all gleaming black and shiny plated metal. Seeing how he was now sagged against the bodywork told Pokk that he was going to be incapable of driving. As much as she didn't like motorcars because of their mass of iron all bound up together in one place Pokk put out her hand towards him. He frowned back at her for a moment or so then said, 'Keys,' before fumbling at his trouser pockets. Pokk supposed he wasn't too much of an ugly sight for a human and she could see how it was that her former mistress had fallen for him with his dark hair and chiseled features. Not that he was at his best at the moment, but then if he'd been any less than the pitiful sight he was now she never would have left the shelter of the Oak tree to honor her promise.
'Keys,' he said holding them out towards her. The urge to sniff the keys before taking them from his hand was almost overpowering. Delicately she lifted them from his hand her grip careful and sure on the one key in the bunch that showed the safe colour of brass. The ring they hung upon was steel and the fob was leather with some showy badge on it made from plated base metal. To her relief Pokk discovered that the rest of the keys were also brass, but plated so it wasn't easy to tell if they were steel or not until she had them close. In the old days iron forged from ore taken from Mother Earth by dint of human sweat and muscle in the heat of a charcoal fire was sorely dangerous to her kind, but this modern stuff full of recycled scrap metal and made by machines was a lesser thing. It could still bite, but not so deep.
'That one opens the door.' He poked his finger at one of the keys. 'Sure you can drive this?' He was looking at her now assessing whether or not she could be trusted with his expensive motorcar. Then he laughed, 'Doesn't matter if you dent it anyway, the bastards will be coming for it soon.' Using the key he'd pointed out to her Pokk opened the front passenger door and stood back. 'Nicely done,' he told her, 'We'll make a good chauffeur out of you yet.' Climbing into the passenger seat he sat back and sighed. Closing the door Pokk walked around the great gleaming black monster to the driver's door. How difficult could this be? afterall she'd watched her former mistress driving her own car often enough.
Once seated on the fine leather upholstery and with the driver's door closed Pokk drew in a steadying breath. It was hard not to think of herself as sitting in the belly of the beast. 'You should be driving with bare feet you know.' He was looking at her slumped back in his seat, 'But I won't tell anybody if you won't.' Sighing he rubbed at his eyes, 'Haven't slept properly for days, - glad you came along. Don't even know how I managed to get here in the first place. Reaching into his suit jacket he drew out a flat silver flask and took a drink. 'Promised myself I wouldn't touch a drop until it was over.' Offering the flask he asked, 'Don't blame me do you?'
Pokk shook her head 'No' before accepting the flask. It contained whisky and a fine one at that. Silently she said, 'Rest thee well Maeve O'Brien,' and took a good swallow before handing the flask back. One more drink and her new master's head started to nod. Not having an audience at her first attempt at driving suited Pokk just fine so she reached across and with a light touch on his forehead sent him deep into sleep's country. Just to be sure she also put his seatbelt on. She wasn't planning on crashing, but having her new master flopping about the car didn't seem like a way to make a good beginning either.
Working her way through the keys she found the one that fitted the ignition. So far so good. Because she'd seen her former mistress do it so often Pokk reached up to the rear view mirror and had a fiddle about with it catching flashing glimpses of her untidy thatch of red hair and her wide eyed expression before she supposed it must be set in the proper place. Turning the ignition key yielded a soft rumble from the engine which shortly afterwards settled into a contented purr. Pushing the foot pedal on the right hand side made the engine rumble more, but apart from that nothing else happened. Then Pokk remembered about the thing in the middle that made the gears work and after a short struggle was able to pull it back.......And the car immediately bounded forward to the accompaniment of a sharp squealing sound from the rear tyres. She knew the big wide pedal in the middle made cars stop so Pokk jumped on it with both feet and very uncomfortably and suddenly kissed the windscreen as the car lurched to a halt with more sounds of protest from its tyres. After a long moment for reflection and another sip or two of whisky Pokk decided that because she was still on the road and hadn't hit anything her efforts with driving must be counted a success.
An hour later and parked in the driveway of her new master's mansion house Pokk finished off the rest of the whiskey and reached the conclusion that she might let some time go past before she tried out this driving thing again. On the plus side of things she hadn't dented the car even though a lot of other drivers on the road had seemed to be very set on denting theirs.
Waking her new master up and getting him out of the car occupied a good few minutes of her time, but when Pokk was finally able to get him into the house she discovered the house seemed to be full of people who were having a party, all of them busy with eating and drinking and having themselves a good time. Though she did make them stop and stare for a while when she blundered through the double doors leading to the biggest room in the house awkwardly half dragging her new master along with her. Nobody shifted themselves to help her while she struggled to sit him down on the sizeable leather couch by the fireplace, the thing so big it must've cost three cows their hides. It was only after Pokk straightened up from her labours and was able to look about herself that she realised that she'd last seen all these people in the room at her former mistress's funeral. Then somebody spitefully commented to their neighbour, 'Out drinking with some slip of a girl and his wife not yet cold in the ground.'
With her hands safe inside the pair of fancy gloves she'd picked up from the floor Pokk gleefully slammed the huge front door of the house and shot the bolts across before leaning back against its solid woodiness grinning from ear to ear. Now that had been fun, much more like an Irish wake should be even though she'd been the one delivering the largest part of the fisticuffs. It was a crying shame her new master had fallen asleep again and missed it. With a sigh she pushed herself away from the door and walked down the wide hallway back towards the big room. She was nursing a small hope in her heart that she might find a bottle of whiskey all on its lonesome amongst the mess when somebody started pounding on the front door and violently ringing the bell. For a moment or two she weighed up whether or not to answer the door then decided she wouldn't. Being without a voice meant their demands would remain unanswered which would only lead to her hitting them when they became uncooth over her silence so it was better for all if the door remained closed.
Chapter One ends. 06/02/2015
