A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing Read Online Free Page B

and blue or black and green coats if the day has rain. Their boots in the hallway, crusty with cow dung or wet muck. If in Sunday skirts, every pleat a landscape of their grown-up bodies. Tired. Under- touched. Flesh having run all night after the cows. Flesh carry sacks of turf up lanes from the shed and spurt out child and child and child. Son he has wanted. Girl he did not. Making frys at all hours and smell of cigarettes called fags by them. Lily of the valley and vaseline. This country’s awful in the winter. Brown skin nylons. Leatherette shoes. And they’ll just have a little cup there in their hand. Good for them they like God and Jesus the most. That’s what they come here to say and do. There’s in their bags holy books and books of it. I picked up this one. I’ll lend you that. Now you take this I read it and thought of you. Hold out their palms out and let the spirit in. To save them and to set them free.
    Some most are women. In a blue moon a man. I like to eye. Sitting in the corner jugging as I can for all they say is interesting to me. Dress undressing no-neck cindy. Not stopping or I get look at little lugs there listening in. Oh taking it all in that one. Doesn’t miss a thing. Spelling I know but too quick to understand r.u.n.o.f.f with the s.a.c.r.i.s.t.a.n and they are living in s.i.n down in such and such a place. There’s stink girl’s mother and her sister with women’s troubles so peculiar all pointed down and asked and how’s ahem? Ah she’ll not sit down for years. Apparently the smell of it is something wicked but god knows it’s not her fault. Their brother’s second wife – ach the first died leaving five behind. Tell me where’s the sense? They’re wild as wild. As bold as brats. The P.P’s housekeeper – God rest her late husband. A lovely man. She gave him a hard life but sure. Mrs one whose husband ran the AIB. Uppity up in herself – behind palms in the scullery they whisper adding a splash to warm the pot. Great red hat she wears to mass. So we have a look at her and where’s the humility in that? Ah each to their own, they say. Then your woman who bought a knitting machine. A hundred and twenty pounds now where did she… Her little boy. Downs. God love him. She does school jumpers so she can get him toys that are ed-u-cat-ional nod nod. That’s right for God helps those who help themselves. The politician’s wife they’d normally spite but God help us her heart is broke. He’s running about with this one that one. She can’t look down on them. Her vows were sacred and he’ll not get her into mortal sin. Her heart may be pierced with a thousand spears but she’ll offer it as penance that’s a bit proud don’t you think? And the one whose husband’s a desperate drunk. Like his father before him you know the type, vicious. That’d kill you in it by mistake. Her blue eyes. Her black eyes. Is he on the bottle? they say and pray for sometimes giving up and the forgiveness of his sins.
    When they get down to the business rosary. Circle. I feel the Holy Spirit close here. Among us. Healing our wounds. Filling us with Christ’s love. Put down that you and come and say your prayers. Speaking through us like the apostles of old. You and me sitting back aching straight in God, thinking cindy’s boobies lie out just there on the floor. Sometimes I’ll do you a foot dance. Jiggery. But you’re not for laughing anymore. Bow your head. You take it for real – I tell you that boy has the makings of a priest. But I will not bother til apparitions approach. Our Lady of Medjugorjie’s message says those awful secrets near. Her vision girls bright views of hell. Their family’s falling in. Those pets those friends. Cold worms of fear. Will that be me? Leave if I can. Run. Sit down Miss and bear witness to their blessed truth.
    Picture how she comes. Our Lady in white, when you’re not looking. She beckons you to Christ. Pray to be chosen. To bear her secrets for the