Kevan Smith - Shriek

Muffling dawn stirs, settles a cold mist and bows the soft brome.  The village bodach wheezingly, struggles onto one elbow, shakingly dropping back to his fliuch pillowcase and damp sheets. 

Breathing is now like sucking mead through rough linen damask.  Eyes demented red and bulging.  Hands shaking ‘ta crith air’ as his heart beats the rattle of a demonic bodhran.

His bleary eyes search and cry out for his sweet Roisen but she left with Manannan mac Lir a long time afore him.  As the cioroid barely moves, he can hear the woodland bean sidhe breathing deeply for her final shriek.