A cold silence returned to the room. The storm outside was barely audible as both father and daughter were overwhelmed with the shock. She eventually took her father's hand, turned to him and said softly, “I want to go home.”
The dining room table harboured a sullen mood. Sanjay sat in silence looking at her – she was a shadow of her former self – in both mind and body.
Her mother made numerous attempts to get food into her, and also get her to speak, but all her efforts ended in futility.
Instead, Garima just stared at the candle that flickered in the middle of the table. She looked into the heart of the flame, taking the time to think about every emotion that swirled around in her body. Love. Loss. Suffering. Desire. All equally dominating, but all had their beautiful moment.
“Darling, please eat something,” her mother implored. “It’s your favourite. Lamb. A little rare, the way you like it.”
Garima shot her a look. If only her mother knew the full extent of the horrific events across the road. A horror that was now nothing more than local lore, probably soon to be myth. What the neighbours thought, they’d never really know. Perhaps Henry Maguire took off and re-joined his wife in parts unknown? Without a body, it was simply a missing persons case. With her eyes widening, Garima looked her mother in the eyes and sarcastically said, “No thanks, mother. I think I’m a vegetarian now.”
Her mother's jaw dropped at the statement.
Garima looked up at her father. With a smile, she said softly, “The consumption of those we love, satisfies the most. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
He didn’t acknowledge her as he struggled to swallow his food.
“After appeasing that taste, nothing else will compare, Mother. Now let us all enjoy our sacred meal.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A very special acknowledgement goes out to my team at Idolum Publishing, without their creative skill, input and professionalism, this book would not exist. They are: my BETA readers, Brian Smyth and Lydia Capuano for their time and notes that contributed greatly with my revisions. The incredible artwork that covers this Collection was once again done by Boz Mugabe, who really captured the elements of Fingal County. Kenneth Cain carried out all aspects of the interior design for both the paperback and hardback editions. And finally, my copy-editor, Marie O’Regan, who shaped and moulded these stories with her eagle-eyed precision.
As I type this, it seems the coronavirus pandemic is slowly coming to an end. When I reflect on the last year and a half, everything seems like a foggy dream state. But, despite what seems like a period of absolute nothingness, I’ve been lucky to receive enormous help and support from colleagues within the writing community, without them, this book would be nothing more than an unfinished Word document, filed away and probably forgotten. They are: Sadie Hartmann, Steve Stred, Ray Palen, Ben Eads, Chris Rush, Eamon Ó Cléirigh, Jason Cavallaro, Mike Griffin, Brian J. Showers, Stephen Devlin, Nuzo Onoh, Trevor Kennedy, Gemma Amor, John Langan and Philip Fracassi.
To my career and publishing mentors, Tim Lebbon and Adam Nevill, without your continuous guidance, I’d still be a dreamer. Thank you both for your time, expertise and patience.
A very special mention must go to my wife Orla, who continues to put up with me.
Finally, dear reader, thank you for taking a punt on this book. I hope I’ve kept you entertained and we meet again soon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SEÁN O’CONNOR is an award-nominated author, primarily known for his work in Horror and Dark Fiction. He and his family currently reside in Dublin, Ireland.
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