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It was the romance of it that she couldn’t get over. It would burn to an eventual ash with the incessant drip of time. And the iridescent glow that he left after him - it followed him all the way down the lane, past the blackberry bushes and the rusted gate her mother so carefully chipped and treated each summer.
It will only be a short time, he said. Earnestly, hopefully, but with warning.
A short time I suppose, she repeated, distracted, the wireless strains of evening news cut through her disbelief.
It won’t be long anyway, and I’ll write to you, there won't be much difficulty with that I'd say.
His words stung like the shock and embarrassment of an unsolicited slap. An insult beyond pardon.
It’s just that she had plans, you see. It’s just that they were fully formed, had written themselves on that crisp parchment you’d see on a wedding day in the sacristy if she was helping Mrs Branley with the bouquets. Her plans were so solid that she had allowed them to be written in indelible ink with the florid, brazen letters of a comfortable learned woman, a competent speller.
It was an especially chilly evening after his departure. A half moon dripped icy on the corrugated iron of the sheds. The yard, the stillness, a shivering rueful mocking. You had your chance, girl, and now it’s gone.
Well who'll take her off our hands now? He grunted from his sunken breach beside the kitchen stove having overheard, and without looking up tapped tobacco into the smoothly rendered pipe sent from America by a deserting cousin, a peace offering.
Ah he'll come back, she countered, her back to them both, stacking dishes dripping suds. He'll take her off our hands yet.
He sniffed, dismissive. A man of few words lest they be incendiary or detracting.
Disappointment rose in her as determinedly as the light of hope she allowed to grow and preside over the past year - so it was best to retire. Solitude held its own artillery but at least it was self-made and in some way controllable. And they spoke as if she wasn't there. But that was always the way. And she knew it best not to show emotion. Weakness was oft-wielded as a finely polished weapon in that house. But silence sometimes too.
Main street harboured a darker hue that Friday. Market day and most were hurrying with small carts or barrows to the square. Head down and shawl wrapped tight, she focused on the job at hand. There was a stall to set up and produce to sell. She had seen the whispers before. Seen faces turned in to seclude the words but the eyes were a dead give away.
Sure it was always going to be short lived, she from up the Drombán hill, it was laughable really, they’d say.
Her shame was as thick as the murky darkness through which she had tentatively trod each night to meet him.
You couldn’t make it up, they’d say, she fell for it hook, line and sinker poor aul soul.
And she saw each beautifully hewn image of her future wash away - a thunderous downpour concealed by an unfathomable sky drowned her heart entirely.
She would sometimes awaken at night, her organs twisted in a knot and rising into her throat. The dead air, a black hole, a vacuum she’d spin towards in dreams. A merciful weightlessness until her inevitable dawn descent.
The rage began to house itself in her chest, sometimes a pounding protrusion, sometimes a dead weight that kept her silent and agreeable. Sometimes a raw heat that rose in her at the most inopportune of times. A tumult of emotion, an emission of great sorrow and loneliness.
You couldn’t possibly have cleaned the whole shed out in that time, he declared, removing his boots with a number of thuds against the gable wall. Cakes of mud slid down, a race to the gutter beneath. You’ll have to be at it again tomorrow, I suppose.
She turned away, more heartache after the sting of humiliation at the Friday market. Best to complete the requests silently. Allow the rage of unfairness to simmer gently, a devoted and constant companion.
And in the end it was a creeping knowing. The way a cumulative change so gradual, gently effervesces into the folds and fabric of each relentless day. A tiredness, an ache, the dragging hang.
Plump around the gills, the aul one would say, watching her scrub between cracks in at kitchen sink - the eternal growth of infectious mould, the creeping damp, the way it would infest and navigate a modest pattern until complete.
On reflection, she hadn't understood the awkward moonlit manoeuvres of teenage chance that led to the changes. And perhaps because of the unending house work and up-keep that summer, or the beady eyes that were trained with intense focus on her every move after the departure - it wasn't long before the priest was called.
There was nothing left now.
The tattered plans in disarray, a confusion replaced the heartbreak of his leaving.
And now she was left with something of him. Inside the very hammer of her being.
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2. |
Critical Mass
06:41
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Looking back it’s clear to know I should have lied
So ashamed to admit that now, I didn’t even try
In a land that is so drenched in weeping, I know that I’m alone
When a hand that should heal is tormented to steal and corrupting your mind
Where is love, where is love and I should go
Where is love, where is love and I could go
Only in retrospect can we blame the time
And that seems but a weakened stance when it mars entire lives
When we wait on unforthcoming promises from a state content with lies
When we wait for the order of things to change, while we die
Where is love, where is love and I should go
Where is love, where is love and I could go
Your dissent
Your descent, I know
Your dissent
Your descent, I know I’ll await for you
And you hide behind robes
And you hide behind robes
Despite how we strove
Despite how we fought
Where is love, where is love and I should go
Where is love, where is love and I could go
Where is love, where is love and I should go
Where is love, where is love and I could go
Your dissent
Your descent, I know
Your dissent
Your descent, I know I…
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3. |
The Veneer
05:57
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Quantify the ways that we’re okay
Qualify the modes of being afraid
Sterilised, alive we’ll all capsize but realise it’s all a lie
Let it all drift away
And now we’re sleeping on the inside
Display the image all you want
Feeling only on the outside
You’ve been denied
And now we’re lacking on the inside
Play the image all you want
We all carve a mere facade
The veneer of fine will hamper our escape
You’ll keep close those secrets
If you run that far, a semblance of okay
You know who you’ll betray
Keeping in mind the hope that you’ll find the light
We all carve a mere façade
The veneer of fine will hamper our escape
You’ll keep close those secrets
If you run that far, a semblance of okay
You know who you’ll betray
Even the light in your, all of your, all of your own
And the sun it never rises, all of your…
Even the light in your, all of your, all of your own
And the sun it never rises
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4. |
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It’s sinking in but nothing’s clear
Careless ruins but so serene
Nothing turns out like you say...
‘Be good and pure and god forbid you make mistakes,
It won’t be hard, we’ll make you stay,
Subsisting on your make-believe,
We’ve made this clear - you’re on your own’
It steers you inwards, though you'll go along and never speak about it
Between the walls of filth and toil, suppress yourself, you won’t enjoy the other life
You’re on your own.
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5. |
War of the Ether
05:56
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In front of you,
Hiding your grace under your frown
And even more,
Fighting your case and disavowed
And now all of my time is spent in the evening of all of your lies
Ignoring the signs revealed to you only
A glorious waste of time
In the sun, if you’d only close your eyes
Holding your own, with the armour of your kind
In the war of the ether when you see the other side
Make it part of the healing and maybe you won’t lose your mind
Even with this hopeless feeling
Even with the hole he’s feeding
Separate your heart and leave it all now, leave it all
In the sun, if you’d only close your eyes
Holding your own, with the armour of your kind
In the war of the ether when you see the other side
Make it part of the healing and maybe you won’t lose your mind
Out of reach there’s all that you’re owed, all that you’re owed
In the war of the ether when you see the other side
Make it part of the healing and maybe you won’t lose your mind
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6. |
License of their Lies
04:36
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To conceal this
Only in the shadows
You walk around it, leave it in the middle
It’s a feat to ignore this, sweep it undercover
In your heart you know it was never all that simple
No more sunshine
I never knew you
Followed your rules too
On your own time, on limited loan your compromise
Evil with the violence and the licence of their lies
Hide behind the fear and there’s the cloak that you despise
Based upon your honour, I’m no longer on your mind
Fear of repercussions illustrate your meagre life.
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7. |
No Matter
03:47
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The gate was open, I lost my nerve
You’d need no reason to find me first
I know the hollow abandon leaves
The days go so slow, with no relief
No matter where you are
The years left waiting
I gave you up
The endless sorrow, but you found me first
No matter where you are
No more sign you’re alone
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8. |
A Decent Class of Girl
08:32
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You regard yourself this way for no one
We’ll grow old
All the relevant theories, they'll grow cold
And I had enough to wish, enough to wish, finally you’ll say
I won’t let you starve for nothing in the self-same way
You regard yourself this way for no one
You regard yourself this way
They sent your soul away in the hole
You don’t even know the signs
Still buried away, hoping they’ll pay
You regard yourself this way for no one
You regard yourself this way
You regard yourself this way for no one
It goes away
And now and then again, it stays
But on unholy ground lies their secrets
You’ll never know how, you never know how you’ll…
You regard yourself this way for no one
You regard yourself this way
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Dystopian Future Movies Nottingham, UK
Featuring Caroline Cawley, Bill Fisher & Marty Fisher (Church of the Cosmic Skull) and Rafe Dunn (Amusement Parks on Fire, JCDX) - DFM combine Cawley’s distinctive song-writing with layers of discordant guitars, atmospheric swells and colossal heaviness whilst exploring a range of genres from prog and shoegaze to doom-metal, noise-rock and folk. ... more
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