Moon Hook I - 11
Part I, Chapter 11 of an ongoing fiction series by Maura McHugh, published every Thursday, for subscribers of Splinister.
Read the first chapter in the series here.
Part I
Chapter 11
‘Monsters’
Sandwiched between Samwise Gamgee and Sailor Moon, Daria finished her second pint of Moon Hook’s local IPA, Solas na Gealaí, and hit her sweet spot of relaxation.
She was part of a group tucked against the sheltering wall of the beer garden of The Heady Brew pub. She’d been introduced to Sebastian, a lanky composer in the video game industry who was dressed up as the bravest of hobbits, and Mina, the anime-loving student, and daughter of the owner of Moon Hook’s donkey sanctuary, which was known as Don Quixotelle.
The hoppy beverages helped Daria marinate in the incongruity, lean back against the cushioned bench, and accept the exotic melange she was beginning to label, Moon Hook normal.
The sun was beating a blazing retreat, the musical acts had bowed out, and soon the parade would start. The co-owner of the pub, Róisín, weaved her way through the crowd carrying a tray with six shot glasses of a pale-yellow liquid. She was distinctively bald with a septum piercing, which made her age difficult to guess. Someone had painted a purple serpent winding around her skull.
Cathal perked up immediately. ‘Céard é seo?’
She began placing the glasses on the table in front of them. ‘Meá.’ She noticed the mixed company, and explained, ‘Mead. Oscar and I are setting up a meadery, we’re calling it Drúchtín – Sundew.’
Cathal and Muireann murmured appreciation at the news, and Vincente raised his chin as if sniffing the air.
Róisín clamped her hands on her curvy hips and commanded. ‘Ól suas!’
Despite Róisín’s pragmatic attitude Daria noticed a tension and guessed that Cathal and Vincente’s opinions were highly valued. She fancied a slight hush descended and nearby locals observed the experts.
Daria smelled the honeyed fragrance before knocking the mead back in one go, enjoying its syrupy deliciousness. Moments later a warmth expanded in her chest, akin to the love of a hive of happy bees, droning praises for their matriarch.
A swell of affection lifted her heart. ‘Moon Hook bees are magic!’ Daria said, surprised at her enthusiasm.
Róisín’s mouth twitched in appreciation but she maintained her attention on Cathal and Vincente who had sipped their offerings with more consideration.
‘Go hiontach!’ Cathal said finally with a sage nod, and everyone waited on Vincente.
He swished loudly, analysing the aftertaste, before putting the glass on the table.
Vincente clapped his hands, ‘Bravo! Someone on Moon Hook shows a refined palette!’
Róisín beamed, nodded, mumbled ‘Buíochas,’ and headed back to the bar. Daria noticed Oscar’s flaming red head anxiously watching Róisín’s return through the patrons. Her thumbs up elicited a wide grin.
Muireann stood. ‘Right, we need to get a wiggle on.’ She pulled on a fleecy Olivia the Sea Serpent purple hat which had a tail dangling from the back.
No one gainsayed her direction, and they got up en masse. Daria slipped on her jacket, and wound a long thin scarf around her neck striped with glittering black and purple; she’d bought it at a stall on the way to the pub.
As they departed through the premises Daria noticed people drinking up and pulling on coats. Muireann had sensed the tide turning.
Outside, the crowds had increased with the twilight, a heaving shoal of bodies, many sporting purple hats so the serpents appeared to swarm among the people. Barricades caged the main street and corralled people to the parade route. Gardaí waved people along and watched for trouble. A knot of people stood by a St John Ambulance speaking with a silver-haired woman.
Daria moved through the crowds with fluid calm, enjoying her alcohol buzz. Every now and again Muireann glanced behind to check on Daria, flashing her impeccable black lipsticked smile, and Daria was determined anew to ask what brand of makeup Muireann used. They approached the slight incline outside The Catch and Muireann squeezed through the press of people to reach the metal barricade. People allowed her pass, seeming to recognise her right to the location. Muireann grabbed Daria’s arm and dragged her through.
Daria pushed into a nearby gap at the barrier, glad for the space and the view of the spectacle. The first float of the parade rolled down to their location: a huge purple Olivia serpent, her head moving from side-to-side, her eyes flashing, and the wings on her coiled body beating in regular motions. Smoke puffed from her nostrils, leaving a haze hanging in the cold air behind her.
People along the barricades held up their mobile phones, taking selfies and pictures, and filming the flotilla. All of them yelled, ‘Olivia!’ or ‘Oilliphéist abú!’ as she passed, clearly a local tradition.
Daria took up the cry, and the head of the great beast swivelled to glare at her, its eyes glowing. A blast of smoke engulfed her and Muireann. Muireann shrieked in delight, but a fit of coughing seized Daria, and she leaned over the bar to allow her lungs to express their discomfort. Long ago, she’d had a pack-a-day cigarette habit, but she’d given them up after a severe bronchitis infection and a no-nonsense lecture from a young doctor in the Emergency Ward of Bispebjerg Hospital in Copenhagen. She hacked, trying to clear the smoke in her lungs, but could not catch her breath. A panicky flutter threatened. She felt Muireann’s hand upon her back, rubbing it in circles, and reassurance returned.
Daria wiped at her streaming eyes and raised her head. Through the haze walked Brother Takla Sadek in his distinctive robe. The people hollered their approval. He led a leashed serpent constructed entirely from wicker along the route. It had horns and opened and closed its mouth as it rolled on a wicker platform with wheels. A crucible billowed frankincense, so the monster appeared to float on smoke. Occasionally the serpent seemed to dart towards the crowd and an admiring child, but the monk blessed the air and the beast came to heel under this control again. A beautiful recording of Latin hymns accompanied the pair.
Sadek noticed Daria through the fog and made the sign of the cross at her just as the crowd behind her pushed, and she was crushed against the barrier.
Her breath caught again, and she attempted to push back at the people behind her, but the pressure remained.
A new float parted the mist and time slowed down.
It was a giant sea god holding a trident. Its bumpy body and lumpen head consisted of shells, coral, spiny urchins, starfish, and other denizens of the deep-sea floor. It eyes were black bulbs in which a scratchy light flickered. A crown of serrated teeth, crusted with huge pearls, topped its head. As it swam towards Daria she noticed the bottom half of its body was carved out of one massive section of black wood, with its large sinewy tail curved so its tail fin flicked up.
It was an enormous replica of the statue on Yemm’s altar.
A strange song haunted the float: a combination of whale sound, waves crashing, the warping of a sinking ship’s hull by the ocean’s pressure, and eerie choral chants over discordant melodies.
As it powered towards Daria someone stepped on the end of her scarf, and it cinched around her neck. She clawed at her throat, trying to untie the noose. The carbuncled god heaved towards her as the crowd cheered. Its song rose until it thundered to the beat of her blood in her ears, roaring over the enthusiasm of the throngs.
The ghastly black eyes lamped her. A bubble of silence dropped.
Yemm’s voice spoke as crisply as if he stood by her heaving shoulders.
‘Daria, I await in the Emerald Heart. Release me.’
Darkness edged her sight, but in that moment between breaths, she sensed his way back, a winding path and a door, edged in green.
She had but to open it… her hand floated up as if under water…
‘DARIA!’
A searing pain in the back of her head as someone yanked her hair to bring up her head and loosen the scarf.
A woman screamed, ‘Get back!’
Her chest was released.
A person held her as she swooned backwards, her breath rushing back in jagged rasps. The great god motored past, whirring and mechanical, diminished and normal. A thunderclap echoed, and the crowd wowed as the next float clattered towards them.
A fast, icy rain pelted her upturned face, reducing her body’s alarm and dashing away her tears. Daria dimly noticed the stars wink out as clouds washed over them.
‘Give her room!’
More people jerked away. Daria staggered to her feet, embarrassment outpacing her fright.
Arms steadied her. ‘I’ve got you, baby.’
An electric memory overpowered her: her mother whispering that phrase over and over, as she hugged and rocked Daria on a long-ago train journey.
Daria pulled out of the embrace and turned.
Fiadh stood in an oversized flowery raincoat, older and gaunt, but with clear eyes.
She vibrated with fierce alarm. ‘Why the hell are you back on Moon Hook?’
The heavens opened, and a hard rain fell.
END OF PART I
Read all published chapters here.
Informative