Sunday Nightmare

Cathie Devitt

Surrounded by my shell, I felt excited and scared, hiding in the big metal midden at the back of the tenements. I had climbed up high on the dyke then dreeped down into the bin. Remnants of a boozy weekend after the Old Firm Match the ingrained stewar and muck clung to the sides like Limpets clinging to coral reef. The lid wedged off by other bored kids hours earlier. The guts of other bins spewed out over the tarmac of the back court, evidence that the midgy rakers had been in search of sustenance, finding half eaten fish suppers and rib bones left over from the weekly pot of soup. The Hybrids had savagely fought over the tit bits leaving a paper trail that would lead to my capture.

I could hear my mammy shouting out of the window, we lived on the first floor so her voice was clear and loud. With each call it got shriller.

Katie, Katee, KateeeeeeeeEEEE! ... (continues)