The Flurry
Act One
Scene 1
A very little is known about Scottish towns those days of 1977 by the Irish knowledge and so this young damsel Moira being the eldest is heading towards the north. Got her luggage done she rushes to catch her ferry as it is her chance to shine before her businessman father, Mr Brendan showing him that she is the most responsible of all her sisters.
Moira: Feck off, ya big feckin' eejit! I was going to trip and ruin my dress.
A man at the port: What a lovely damsel you are with a ludder’s tongue. Grab your way.
Moira: Oh poor fellow with a dork’s head. I am leaving who wants to stay in the way you opt for mister.
A man at the port: You are a spoiled brat with no manners and I am pretty sad about the fact. Go on lady don’t make my brain your meal they are plenty men.
Moira: (picks up her luggage which was loaded heavily and with one hit would open up like a watermelon) Slán leat.
Hears the last whistle for her ferry to leave, she prompts towards her seat. Moira’s excitement to see her grandfather has already vanished like a wool in the wind troubled by the annoyance she bombarded into.
She fixes her lip tint and the freshly done locks, adjusts her hat and perches on making her bottom comfortable on the wooden seats.
A lady crying sees Moira struggling with luggage and hurling abuses. A nail on the seat tore Moira’s skirt and now this has troubled her more.
Moira: ( looking up somewhere) go raibh maith agat Lord anything more. A sea storm maybe?
Lady found her ruffian bold English woman who’s traveling back home aimlessly wandering to show her riches and throw them like nothing.
Lady: Can you be a little quiet with your prayers as departing from my children is a little disturbing sight. As i got divorced a little time back?
Moira : ( boiling with rage wanting someone with whom she can tongue) That is your little problem in this little place not mines.
Lady: You are a rude woman!
The lady waves at her children as the ferry departs and Moira sees her whispering to herself this time.
Moira: Little tears for little nasties.
The ferry sails away from the port leaving tears, sighs and sad goodbyes. A 7 hour journey with this mood was surely going to be a pathetic experience but what can be done of Moira she is like that since her birth. At a very young age she has seen worst and best of her life. Her mother eloped with her paternal uncle and where love bloomed bad blood hatred sparkled in her life. Detesting her mother for the rest of her life, Moira maintained her poise and never let this affect her anyway though deep inside it had already killed her. Her father never trusted women then and God sent him 3 more women as daughters. Well played.
