by Rachel Mullaly, St Flannan's College

It happened one night. The still, crisp air of a midsummer’s eve was filled with the steady rhythm of crickets chirping and on top of that a nightingale sung its beautiful melody of joy and sorrow. The summer flowers had all closed up their petals, tightly hugging their pollen to make sure any stray bees didn’t rob their lavish sap. The countryside of Kildare was pitch black. Instantaneously, without warning, an indistinct object advanced into sight. It trampled the flowers, angered the sleeping honeybees and hushed the nightingale and crickets. A nonplussed fox fled across the beaten country track. The dark object was a vehicle, and a monstrous one at that. It came to an abrupt halt. Two men stepped out, said something, laughed and set up camp for the night. The normal chatterings of the countryside commenced once again.

The night passed, bringing dawn, and Paddy Murphy awoke with first light. He tiredly stretched out his old frail body and heaved himself up. He clambered onto a stool and screwed in his light bulb. Now, Paddy was new to electricity and it was a big change for him. He believed that if he disconnected the bulb, then he would save on his electricity bill. He flicked in the light switch and began to splash cold water over his face, while he sang a lonesome Irish air patriotically. He slopped himself up some cheese onto a lump of rather stale bread. He had barely swallowed his first bite, when a strange resonant clank sliced through the air, as a knife would fresh bread, followed by a strange humming noise. Paddy started. He burst open the door of his small cottege, scattering a herd of timid rabbits. Paddy’s heart missed a beat. His eyes ached at the sight of the missing forest. Was it a trick? A mirage,perhaps? A huge yellow object with a giant claw was scraping away at the countryside. What on earth was it?

“C.A..T..E..R..P..I..L..L..E..R,” Paddy spelt out loud. “A giant caterpillar”, he whispered. The “caterpillar’s” claw seemed like it was beckoning him towards it with its fingerlike movement. He mustered up all the courage he possibly could and limped over to it.

“Its just like an enemy soldier”, he told himself consolingly. “Just like when you were in the ole’ army…,”he grunted. However his courage was short-lived and he nearly fainted to the sound of a gruff voice behind him. He spun around only to find a small cluster or men in anomalous looking jackets gathered round him. He had to shield his eyes from the bright fluorescent colour.

“Hello mate, nice day ain’t it?” suggested one of the workmen. Paddy was alarmed. He wasn’t accustomed to strangers and the only person he ever saw was the man from the far off corner shop. He gathered up every particle of courage he had in his body and said quite hurriedly” What is yis all doin’?”

The workmen explained that they were just following orders, doing their duty, developing the country, whatever…Paddy wasn’t really listening. He had sunk into a bottomless pool of deep childhood memories.

He was four. Sitting on the soft grass, playing with the daisies. All around him his brothers and sisters were dancing in a circle singing ‘ring-a-round-a-rosie’. Next he was around eight, exploring the fields with his ever-faithful dog. Before him flashed many memories. Happy ones, like getting the penknife he always wanted for his birthday and sad ones, like his little sister’s funeral. He finally came back to reality only when a single solitary droplet of salty water slid down his face. A tear. Something he hadn’t shed for years. He retreated. A lonely man.

Seasons passed. Summer cooled to autumn and the roots of the trees turned to concrete foundations. Where green gleaming trees once stood, packed with animal life, now not even faint, fond memories. The briar bushes that once boasted fresh fruit now bore only deathly dust.

Winter was soon to follow and this year Paddy was feeling the cold particularly numbing. One cold wintry night he awoke shivering badly. He found it very hard to open his eyes. He reached for his cup of water. It had frozen over. He glanced out the window. The brilliant light of the silvery moon reflected off the towery buildings which lay in lieu of the green fields where he spent his childhood days. As far as the naked eye could delve, once part of the countryside, now part of Dublin 12. With that, Paddy Murphy thought his last thought,” What a change”. Yes, it happened one night, a cold one. With that, Paddy Murphy, the lonely man, shut his eyes tight.