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༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛
Ireland, CO. Armagh 1904
The six Daly's sat in various spots across their small living space awaiting the arrival of their father. The youngest, Phyllis, sat legs spread-eagled in front of her beside her sister, Margaret. Both were enjoying the warmth of the fire in front of them chatting politely to each other.They always got along quite well unlike some of their siblings.
The oldest, Mick, a lanky boy of nineteen stood in the doorway staring at the night sky pondering his father's whereabouts. The other three children sat in the corner of the dimly lit room discussing a strange sound two of the boys had heard three nights ago.
"I swear to you Gerard it was like a dying cat," said Paddy, a sickly skinny looking boy, turning his head to his other sibling. "wasn't it Pete?"
Pete shifted uncomfortably "Uh I didn't really hear it until you pointed it out and then the noise... just vanished" he managed to say his voice slightly muffled but confirming Paddy's statement none the less. Pete was a small scrawny eleven-year-old boy who in these circumstances was often used as a tool for believability.
"I don't believe you, not one tiny bit you're both daft," Gerard said disbelief laced through each word as he knew how good Pete was at lying. But at that second, nothing but truths were being spoken.
"We're not lying!" They shouted in union ship Pete less enthusiastic than Paddy.
"Hmm yeah ok" He replied sarcastically shifting his position so he was sitting upright." anyway what do you think is wrong with the McNulty's?"
Both brothers turned their heads at the question, they had been pondering the same thing for a while
"dunno? Maybe one of their cows is ready to calf" paddy questioned curiosity building up between the three.
ØØØØØ
Just twenty minutes ago Ryan McNulty had come knocking on their door nearly punching a hole in the rotten frame. Margaret who had answered the door was startled to see an unusually pale-looking McNulty standing shoulders slung.
She quickly ushered him inside one of their small rooms where an old wooden table with three chairs sat.
"Ma-Maggie I-I need to talk to yer Da" he stuttered hands running fingers through his short hair.
Margaret told him to sit about to race out the back door to get her Dad, who at that moment was herding the sheep but the boy grabbed her lower arm stopping her from leaving.
