The Gap
Paddy had woken up Friday as always it was the NEXT DAY.
The sun had risen on time; the pope’s infallibility and otherwise total control of the world he knew had made ten days disappear. Theoretically. The church men had too much power; everyone knew that.
He idly wondered about Fr. O’Malley and Sister Gwynyth for the tenth time. The sister had been gaining weight and losing her breakfast. Word around the village the bet was on Fr. O’Malley. He had a way of sharing his fatherliness with the prettiest maids and leaving his gifts for them to raise too.
Ah just ignore the clergy it was safest even when they did rot out the calendar. Paddy professionally did not use a calendar. He was a fisherman worried about little else.
He made his way down ancient rocks that made more sense than the church bells to most villagers. His dinghy lay docked. Expertly he strode on and soon had lifted anchor.
A bird flew straight by him. He blinked.
Why did it seem like he was just alone in the waters?
Starting to feel alarmed he turned towards where land should be. Nothing.
How long had he been out here?
He pulled up his net and drew in his breath.
He had just dropped it. He pulled it up it was now rotted and falling apart. From too much time lowered in the water he thought bitterly.
How long?
It just looked like featureless sea. Paddy swore under his breath, then called upon St. Patrick's Rune.
Padraig O’Malley looked again at the exquisite ship in a bottle setup he had inherited from his great grandfather.
Sometimes he swore the little man in it actually moved on his own.
