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Abbie Flynn

Current History

• April 14th, 1914:
  • I'm seventeen year's old, I started this journal as a way to document the events of my life. Today I meet with like minded women of Ireland. We will form an organization to help liberate our country. The time for a free Ireland is here, and we will fight for it, we will give our blood, our lives if we must, to see our home taken from the protestants and the Loyalist bastards that support them.

• April 15th, 1914:
  • Kathleen Lane-O'Kelley called the meeting at the Wynne Hotel. Most of the finest women in Dublin came out, so many strong souls, so many women of influence and power. It felt good, we would not settle to be silent ladies hiding behind our men, we would fight.

• April 22nd , 1916:
  • We are strong, we have been raising money, we have been gathering arms, I have taken to running for the Irish Volunteers. I keep the boys informed, armed, and I think that young Leuitenant Billy O'Shae is sweet on me. I think I'll finally let him take me for dinner like he has been asking for damn near a year now. He's a nice boy.

• April 23rd, 1916:
  • Its begun! We are going to meet at the Post Office..we are an army now! The Army of the Irish Republic. Its time to go to war, its time to win our freedom, its time to show them that they will no longer keep us under boot. I have a rifle, I'm a good shot, Da always took me hunting, I asked God for forgiveness for what I must do.

• April 29th, 1916:
  • I killed a man, an officer was beating a poor boy to death. I shot him. He just slumped over, crumbled, I saw the life leave his face. Is hould feel bad..I should feel more. I did what I must, that boy is still alive, I saved him. We had to fall back, I burned papers at the Four Courts, the GPO is getting shelled and they wont hold. We have to get out.

• May 9th , 1916:
  • They arrested me, I spent a week in and a half in a cell. Constance, she was seperated form us, put into a small room alone. She was a leader, she inspired us, they wanted to take that away. They couldn’t hold us all, we had done well in burning the evidence, they had no proof I had shot anyone, it was chaos, they had no proof we did anything at all. Constance did not get out with the rest, they held her, but even behind bars she will not be contained. The fight still lives, Ireland will be free.

• January 7th, 1922:
  • The treaty has broken us, I have to leave, they are throwing those that sided with the Republicans into jail. I dont know if I will get out this time. Da bought me a ticket, I'm going to America. Until this is all over. I will come back, I will fight, but I dont know if I will survive. I have been fighting for so long for freedom. I can't end up in a cell again.

• April 19th, 1922:
  • I have come to New York City. There are so many of my countrymen here, so many left during the wars, from the great war, the war of Independence, the civil war that followed. They grew tired of war, grew tired of having their homes and lives destroyed. I do not blaim them, I can not say they are not patriots, because here I am, in America, with them. Yet I will forever be a patriot.

• May 30th, 1922:
  • I’m hungry. I found work, but the pay barely keeps a roof over my head. I share a room with three other women. One of them stinks terribly, she is a whore, walking the streets at night, selling herself. She eats better than I do. America is suppose to be a place of freedom and equality. Everyone seems equally poor. Except those up town, those that have the money, the power. Its the same here, always the poor suffer, always the rich grow fat while riding their backs.

• July 18th, 1922:
  • I met a woman last night, she was strong, beautiful, red hair, pale skin, a smile that froze my heart. She bought me a drink, we went for a walk. I told her about the fight back home. She was from Dublin aswell, though she had been in the states for some time. We ended up stumbling our way to her house. She had a nice house, two bedrooms, and food. I remembered her kissing me, a woman, kissing me. It felt so good, my body, my soul seemed ablaze. Billy O’Shae never made my burn. Abbie, its a sin, but it felt so good. She gave me a drink, a wine, it was better than anything I had ever tasted. I wanted more, but she only kissed me again on the neck.

• July 26th, 1922:
  • I have been seeing her, almost every night. She comes to get me after work, we go out, we talk, she tells me some of the old stories, of Cuchulain, of Mor-Ríoghain. She loves the stories. I know she is a fighter, I know she is like me. It feels good when I am with her. She kisses me each night, it feels right, even when my mind tells me it is wrong. She is so beautiful. So strong.

• August 6th, 1922:
  • I met her last night, we made love for the first time. It was amazing, her every touch set my skin on fire. I think I have fallen in love. But what does that mean? No one can know, they will kill us both. I love her...I love her..

• August 12th, 1922:
  • I’m so cold..I’m so hungry. I tried to eat, but I just threw up everything. My skin is cold, pale. I think I am sick. I think I am dying. Oh god..my heart. I cannot feel it. God help me..please God help me.

• • She came back, she told me things, horrible things. I am a monster, she is a monster. I do not believe her, I love her. She has changed me, into something different, something strong. She says I will not die, I will never grow old, I will never be sick. God I am so hungry. She kissed me..she told me it would be alright. I trust her.

• August 13th, 1922:
  • The doors are all bolted, I cannot get outside. I could not force myself to wake during the day, as the sun rose, I was pulled into exhaustion. She came back. She brought someone with her. A young man, he was American, he was handsome. I killed him. I dont know what happened. I was so hungry. Everything..it just went red. When I came to I was drinking his blood. It tasted like heaven. I drank..and I drank. I felt his heart stop, I felt his last breath rattle form his chest. I am a monster.

• December 25th, 1987:
  • I do not know why I am picking this up again. I am not that girl anymore, the pages filled with life and ambition. I am no longer a bright eyed child hoping to change the world. I am a monster, I have come to embrace that fact. But I am a monster with purpose, to serve Mor-Ríoghain, The Crone, The mother. My blood grows thicker now. She is with me still, she is my teacher, my friend, my lover, she is all I have known. We did not linger in New York. The streets were wild, too many kindred, some from the old world, some from the new. We went west. To California, the city of Las Angeles. The City of Angels. It was ironic, with so many devils lurking the streets. The Circle was strong, my sire welcome, the Stormcrows always welcome. She told me of the past, the greatness of our bloodline, how we were once generals and advisors to the greatest heirophants. Now we are simply seen as muscle, the remnants of an army of a dying age. Let them think that, let them see us as a Relic. Our blades do not rust, our will does not falter. Let them test our resolve, and we shall bathe in ash.

• May 17th, 1997:
  • I find myself picking up this pen again. Perhaps it is because I wish there to be some legacy, something that I may look back on and remember. I was so young, so hopeful. Now..I have been on this earth for a century. I fear I am growing stagnant. I listen to the cries of this Carthian Movement. It reminds me of those days so long ago in Dublin. I hear them call out for freedom and liberation from tyranny. I want to rise I want to follow them. I want to feel that passion I once knew. My service is to the Mor-Ríoghain. My service is to Her. How red her hair is, how she still sets my skin ablaze.

• Febuary 17th, 2011:
  • Things are troubling now. I grow so restless. I have been sheltered for too long. I can grow no more smothered by the affection and security of my sire. I love her, but I cannot remain in Las Angeles. I will leave, I will tell her. I will miss her hair, I will miss her touch. I hope she is not angry with me.

• March 20th, 2011:
  • I met an acolyte from Las Vegas, .Anthony Lazarak. Their name is known, they have inhabited Vegas since it was nothing but a few buildings trying to keep from sinking below the sand. Things have not gone well for the Circle there. The Invictus rule, his own family abandoning him. This is what I asked for, a place to go. I must leave. I must tell her. I am sorry.