Title: The Meaghan Chronicles I
Author: Highlandlass
Rating: R
Story: Historical
Feedback appreciated



"We have found everything but too true; the accounts are not
exaggerated - they cannot be exaggerated - nothing more
frightful can be conceived. The scenes we have witnessed during
our short stay at Skibbereen, equal anything that has been
recorded by history, or could be conceived by the imagination."
Illustrated London News: 1847 (Real Articles)
(on the horrors of the famine)

Between SKIBBEREEN and CLONAKILTY,
CO. CORK, IRELAND
"BLACK" 1847
FEBRUARY.



Lightening illuminated a storm-ravaged terrain of muddied hills and
wind-whipped trees. Within the open valley could be seen a figure
fighting against the force of the storm with slow, halting steps.
The rain pelted against the person as it topped yet another rise,
revealing nothing more but the same vision of rain-blurred
mounds and valleys. Still, the slight frame pushed on, tripping
a northerly path across the expanse.

The wind grew stronger, ripping through the muddied rags
clothing the figure, pushing the hood back to reveal the
gaunt face of a woman. Her soaked hair wrapped against
her cheeks, neck and shoulders, the tangled ends whipping
in the gritty wind.

Meaghan Marie Kineally forced her body to move. She could feel
a tugging sense of despair drag her heart from her chest to
fill her empty gullet. She swallowed, forcing her mind to ignore the
sensation and just concentrate on what was important, what was
necessary. Walking, just keep walking. And so, regardless of what
lay before her, Meaghan trudged on.

Her sunken eyes fell closed against the outside world, pressed
firmly closed against it. The smell of overturned earth clung to
the air and hung upon her muddied clothes.

Her mind had shut down long before now. It was not conscious
thought that propelled Meaghan through the tempest. It was a driving,
primal need that clamored within her- forcing Meaghan away from where
she had been, away from the dreams and nightmares it contained.

Meaghan's body shivered against the cold, wet, and raw. She was
empty - not only of body, but of mind.

Wet mud slithered its way between her ragged clothes and skin.
She could feel it working its way into rubbing her skin
raw. She had suffered far too long to even care. That
she'd noticed it happening was remarkable in itself

"Sweet Jesus," Meaghan rasped, collapsing to the ground.

The side of her face molded to the chilled mud. She found
she could no longer move. Her palms lay under her chest, impressing
deep into the muck beneath her. Her arms shook with a vain
attempt to lift herself but her strength quickly gave out.

She lay there, unable to stop her mind from wandering onto memories
that were fragmented and sewn back together in senseless, nightmarish
pieces. Her eyes stared out upon the world, seeing nothing more than
half-truth visions.

Dirty water coated her face as the downpour splashed into the
muddied puddles before her. Her mouth caught some of the grime but
she did not spit it out. She hadn't the energy for even that.

Her body began to spasm. Her eyes fluttered as her heart drummed
loudly in her ears. The increasing staccato drowned out the sound of the storm
surrounding her. Fear gathered itself from the corners of her mind,
collecting into an awareness of utter helplessness . She felt the racing
speed of her heart knock against her breast bone in a building, shattering
pain.

The thunder cracked closely overhead, breaking through the rapidly
pounding heartbeats. Her skeletal body went into spasms again,
snapping her temporarily back to consciousness. Her gathered
fear exploded within her mind, coating her soul in numbing
waves.

It was in her last moments of awareness that Meaghan Marie Kineally
knew she would be free. She smiled and forced her mind to stop
struggling as she finished her walk through the valley.

*************************************************

[FLASHBACK]

Border of BALTIMORE AND SKIBBEREEN
CO. CORK, IRELAND
EARLY AUGUST: 1846





"Yea must go lass, we haven't the food to feed ourselves, Yea and
Gabriel are the only ones this pitiful farm can spare," weeped Mary
Kineally, Meaghan's mother. "The work houses are our only hope. Yea
and Gabriel are old enough to leave. We've got to try something...yea
brothers, William and Danny can look after the farm. Gabe and yea
have a chance... if yea be stayin' here, none of us will. At least both of yea
will be guaranteed some food," explained Mary.

She pulled Meaghan over to the hearth. They sat down in front
of the low fire where a pot sat boiling. "I've loved yea like yea
were me own babe, yea know that don't yea? When Father Aidan
asked us to take one in, I clasped yea to me bosom, cradlin'
your sweet face within me arms. Finally I had me a daughter," began
Mary. She clasped Meaghan's hand between her aged ones. "I
looked in those wee gray eyes of yours, and even then they were calm;
sure. Yea always have been the strong one. I suppose I knew yea
would be...me Meaghan, me mighty one. I need yea to be strong for
me now. Be strong, remember who yea are. Yea are a Kineally,
me Meaghan Marie.

Mary folded Meaghan into her thinned arms, crushing her daughter
tightly to her chest. She could feel her mother's boned frame pressing
against her own. Her mother spoke again. "I love yea me lass, me
sweet girl.

"Aye, don't yea think I be knowing that," whispered Meaghan, pulling
back some to see her mother's face.

"I do know how it's been since Da's been gone. The farm be in
a terrible shape, the potatoes barely comin' up. This bein' the way of it
before Da died. Yea need William and Danny to work the
field...harvestin' what little there is. It only be right for Gabriel
and me to go. If it will give our family a chance, there be no question,
none at all. Don't go worrin', Gabe will look after me, as I will him."

Meaghan pulled the once hearty woman back into her own emaciated
arms. She whispered against her mother's hair," Don't cry, Ma." The
famine had already taken her father and as she looked over her mother's
shoulder, her gaze fell onto her little brother and sister, who where
tucked in a darkened corner of the cottage.

She saw that her sister, Sarah, was not going to make it much longer.
Lil'Sarah was already confined to a sick bed, barely any strength
existed in the poor seven year old's body. Patrick cradled his twin
within his own feeble arms, rocking her. Meaghan smiled as she heard
them speaking their invented language, but her face fell as she saw
Sarah shudder. Patrick clasped her tighter, refusing to allow her to
leave him all alone. For Meaghan was sure he knew what was in
store for his twin, his "siúr anam."*

Meaghan's eyes watered. She couldn't, didn't, understand why God
was destroying her family, her people! Instantly her gaze filled with
a burning anger. 'Damn God!,' her soul cried out as she clasped her
mother more tightly to her breast... Mary squeezed back just as hard.

"Okay now lass, no more tears. We'll see each other again," soothed
Mary.

Meaghan buried her face into her mother's shoulder. She knew that her
mother didn't believe those words... for neither did Meaghan. The
rumors of the work houses told of how they broke one's soul. It forced
such hard, manual labor upon the weakened Irish that most died while
there. The people of Ireland were all just mere shadows of their former
selves. Hunger and disease had spread its tentacles throughout the tiny
island, making most weak and feeble before they even arrived at such
places. Yet people went anyway, with the hope of food and shelter.

* siúr anam = sister soul

**************
MID-AUGUST:1846
Few Weeks later….

Father Aidan had arranged for Gabriel and her to go and go
they must. There was nothing but absolute death and utter despair
left at home. The workhouses provided a sliver of hope at least,
and so she clasped that hope to her breast.

"God be with yea me children," said Father Aidan as he stood among
the rest of the family to see Gabriel and Meaghan off. His ruddy
face creased into a web of lines as he smiled at them.

Meaghan reached up and fingered the cross around her neck, the
desire to rip it off boiled strong within. She began to tug at it
but controlled her actions, releasing the cross from her
fingers.

"Thank yea, Father Aidan," she replied, choking on the words.
Meaghan reminded herself that it wasn't the Father that she was
mad at... but she also reminded herself that he was the closest
thing to him.

She turned to her mother.

"I love yea, Ma," Meaghan said, placing a long kiss a top her
mother's forehead, then each eye, her nose and finally her
mouth," I will miss yea."

Her mother returned the kisses with just as much fervor, if
not more.

"I miss yea already me lass," said Mary smiling through her
tears.

"Good-bye," Meaghan whispered.



*********************



"Death is found in every paragraph; desolation in every district;
whole families lying down in fever; hovels turned into charnel
houses; entire villages prostrate in sickness, or almost hushed
in last sleep."
Ulster Journal:1847
(summarized newspaper articles)


between SKIBBEREEN and CLONAKILTY
CO. CORK, IRELAND
FEBRUARY 1847 : Present
Over one year later….






The rain had halted to a stilted drizzle. The wind had also
died down to a mild roar, a shade of what it had been.

Cresting a hill appeared a rider and horse. They continued on, racing
down into the valley. The horse pounded the mud into the ground,
splattering it against the legs of both horse and rider. The man pulled
up the reins as they approached the valley floor.

The rider stiffened in his perch, turning his head... searching. The horse
whinnied, bucking in response to the rider's tension. The beast reared
again, its hind hooves sliding in the mud, and throwing the rider from
his seat.

The man landed with a solid thud upon his back, the air leaving his lungs
in a loud, painful hiss. His hat fell off, the wind whisking it away. Dragging
himself into a sitting position, the rider glared up at the returning drizzle.

A weary sigh escaped the traveler's lips as he ran a hand through
his short, rain-slicked hair. It was now dusk and rapidly growing
darker by the minute. Peering through the murky light he saw the
shadowed figure of his horse standing a distance away. The animal
was sniffing the ground, it's nose nudging at something.

Eyes narrowing the man pulled himself out of the filth. He
approached his horse and the object it had found before he had. As
he got closer, the traveler saw a mud clad figure blindly gazing
up at him from the mud.

He reached over to his horse, sliding out a long, sharp sword
from the confines of his satchel. Gripping the Ivanhoe handle,
the metal guard resting securely atop his fist, he warily approached
the stranger.

He couldn't really make out what the person was, be it man or woman.
It was cloaked in mud. The body from what he could tell, was thin and
wasted away. The rags that the mud and rain molded to the skeletal
frame, were indistinct. The person lay on its stomach with only its
head turned toward him. He squatted down beside the emaciated
body, his sword pointed in front of him. Though the figure looked
incapable of harm, he would and never did take chances.

"Help Me, "croaked the soft voice of the... woman, then her eyes
fell shut.

The man rested back on his haunches, his eyes widening in shock. He
then fell forward to his knees as he leaned in closer... incredible but
true, he now knew that the wretched shape before him was once that
of a woman.

***************************************************
[FLASHBACK]

SKIBEREEN, CO. CORK,
IRELAND
"BLACK" 1847
LATE JANUARY: WORK HOUSE




"Help Meee!" screamed Meaghan as a hand came over her mouth.

"Shuddup you Lil' Irish 'hor," threatened the man , close to her ear,
"or I'll 'ave your bag ah bones thrown out of 'ere faster than
ya can spit."

Meaghan struggled in the grip of the man, trying to break free.

"Please, Work Officer Smith...,"pleaded Meaghan.

"Agh," she cried as her skirt was lifted and her underthings
ripped open with a knife.

"Ya, you feel this ," asked the Work officer, pressing himself
against her," I tell ya what, it's your choice. What would ya
prefer?"

"This," he asked pressing a blade hard against her stomach," or
this?"

He pushed himself further against her, his breeches stretching
toward Meaghan's bared backside.

Meaghan continuously shook, adrenaline-spiked fear coursed
through her body. She straightened as she felt his hand slide up
her inner thigh, but she didn't pull away. His ever present knife, rested,
threatening against her stomach.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, you Irish 'arlot!"

******************************************

PRESENT:EARLY FEBRUARY: 1847

Meaghan felt a slap on her face.

"Wake Up," commanded a voice above her. She opened her eyes
and stared into the wall of someone's chest. She hadn't even known
she'd been picked up. She had felt someone, something there, and
had blindly cried out for help.

"Listen to me, I need you to stand for a few moments, until I am seated on
my horse, then I will pull you up," he ordered, rather than told. The
man let go of Meaghan and she began to fall down, he quickly caught
her.

"Gods!" He muttered, shaking his head.

"Listen. To. Me," he repeated, enunciating each word as he yelled
over the increasing wind. He grabbed her chin within his callused
fingers. She could feel the grime on her face pressing into her skin
from where his hand held her. He forced her to look up at him.

"I need you to stand," he ordered, squeezing some for emphasis, "Do
you understand me?"

"Yes," she croaked out," I...trying."

"Try Bloody Well Harder!"

He then stood her along side the horse, and by a sheer act of
will, Meaghan stood long enough for him to get into the saddle. Her
knees were beginning to buckle. She struggled to stand, exerting
what little strength she really didn't have left.

The sound of the horse's breath coming out in long snorts broke
through her concentration. White clouds of steam billowed by her head
from the horse's exhalation . Mud was being kicked up. She could feel it
flicking against the back of her legs. The sound of the stranger's voice
could be heard in soothing tones.

"Whoa, Fury," he ordered. Meaghan heard him patting the sides of the
horse, trying to calm it down. She could feel her legs beginning to give,
her body loosing its lingering reserve of strength.

Suddenly she felt his strong hands slip under her arms, hauling her
up. He grabbed her from behind, pulling her muddied body to weigh
against him as they sat a top the snorting giant.

"Yah!" he yelled out, whipping the horse into a gallop.

Meaghan passed out.