Fomorians In Their Own Words: Ms S.

I will not tell where I was born – let the fact that it was a surface village of the League be enough. As a citizen of the League, I sat through the endless classes on being a good citizen. We were taught that everyone must pull their weight in the League for the common good. To Leave No Feartollán Behind. I went to Mass like everyone else. I attended the Civil Defence training sessions, even as my parents struggled to pay the levies and tithes to support the militias. I planned to become a nurse.

None of it made the slightest difference. One of Connacht Trading’s security guardsmen accused me of being a thief and a Fomorian sympathiser, and everybody I knew turned a blind eye as he removed me from my home without a trial. Just like that.

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New secondary site: basic version ready

Well, after my first holiday to Dublin in a few years – almost three years to the day – I came down with Covid. After managing to dodge the dreaded lurgy for over two years, I finally got it. Yay.

I had got the secondary site uploaded before that, and managed to get it mostly working. So, you can find the backup on GitHub Pages here. There are some caveats:

  • I have only linked 3 stories so far
  • Mobile browsers won’t be able to view the full PDF in the browser, but you’ll be able to download then.
  • The styling doesn’t match between mobile or desktop browsers.

I could probably put Vue on my CV now, if I think frontend development might be worth going back to. I’m still not sure about that.

Washing-up Wrangling

“Hey, Red!”

Diarmuid morosely looked up from the lukewarm sink that held two stained metal plates, and narrowed his eyes as he beheld the stocky younger boy with the fangs and green patches of skin next to the draining board. “What is it, Grady?”

“Me name’s Tomás. Nurse said you could use a hand.”

“I could. And mine’s Diarmuid. Not Red, or Red-Eyes, or freak…” he trailed off with an irritable sigh. Grady briefly exposed more of his fangs as his mouth silently worked, before he picked up a tea-towel and began to wipe the plate that lay on the draining board. For a few minutes, neither spoke as Diarmuid focussed on scrubbing the plates and tried to ignore the sidelong glances the other boy gave him. Eventually, he couldn’t take it any more.

“Go on…you want to say something, just get it out.”

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