Michael O'Shay And The Missing Wife

by William J. Demorascki

About the Author: William J. Demorascki has published in the Saturday Evening Post with "Mary, Wake Up," a ghost story that was featured for Halloween.

Excerpt

This is the story of that worthy policeman Michael O’Shay and the disappearance of Charlotte Boru. It is a local tale, not much spread beyond the bounds of its origin, but well worth the telling, over a Guiness or two, and what with the prevailing weather. Not to worry if you’ve never heard it. We’ll start right from the beginning.

The tiny hamlet of Tiperon graced the western shore of the River Shannon, not far from the straddling mountains of lower Lough Derg. Though small it was roomy, spreading out on a quilt of light and dark green, gently rolling vale that fell away to the grassy skirt of the river. Small farms populated the vale, where potatoes grew in garden patches and blond piles of hay dried in the occasional sun. On these farms were cozy white stone, thatch-roofed cottages with square-cut bricks of black peat stacked high against their outer walls, the smoke from peat fires curling up their chimneys. Bicycles clattered down the cobbled streets, and horse-drawn wagons hauled tall silver milk cans to the market in Killiloe. It was rural, is what I’m saying, though Fitzgerald had a Buick, and didn’t it come in handy on the night in question?

It was a rainy spring evening, and follow me now in your mind’s eye to Flinn’s pub, where the locals were talking crops and horse races and meddling politicos in Dublin, or playing darts, as they were want to do, when Brian Boru walked in to the pub and said:

“That bastard stole my wife!”

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