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The Irish Tales

The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(14)

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April's remains were bagged and put into deep-freeze, there to await his interment in the Garden of Time, once a suitable tomb had been constructed.

As you will understand, this was not an everyday occurrence and took a little thought. It is not exactly a well-populated graveyard.

I sat in my apartment, drinking, accompanied by Tuesday and November, who had little to say, so stunning were the events of the last few days.

After April's demise, I had listened to January's message that March had stopped his own clock with no surprise at all and merely asked whether he had left any last note.
No, was the answer.

I dismissed him and turned to the Chief ChronoDog.
"Have March's apartment sealed and post Dogs to ensure it."

As he turned to go, I called him back.
"The Dog who pulled April from the Pond ? See that he gets the best medical aid, promote him and inform him he has my permission to marry and that a suitable cottage home will be found for him. Do it now."
He bowed respectfully and left.

I took one last look at April, then abruptly left for my apartment, followed by Tuesday, who was joined by Nov at a discreet distance.

At the door, I beckoned them both in and broke out the oldest Armagnac I could find.
And now we sat in silence, reflecting.

We had lost a Day, two Months and the Calendarist. Not to mention vast amounts of Time.

I had no idea why this had happened, nor what I should do about it, as the Eldest Month.

Over and above this, I felt a deep sadness for misjudging April so badly. His behaviour since I ordered him to undertake a suicide mission had been exemplary and warranted - what ?

I was vaguely aware of a timid knock on my door and that Nov got up to answer it.

When he returned, he was accompanied by a slim, tall youth, dressed entirely in black, carrying an opened bottle of vintage champagne from which he occasionally sipped.

Before I could say anything, he kissed Tuesday on the brow and said,"Good evening, daughter !"
She looked bewildered.

And then it hit me.
"Christ..." I said, disbelievingly.

He turned to me and smiled sweetly. "Not quite, Dec. But very close."
It was the Millennium Lord.


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  1. Archangel's Avatar
    That's it for the moment, dear readers. Although I've already begun Part Two, I intend to have a little break from the tale, just to allow certain ideas about it to become clear in my mind.

    If you'd like to read the whole of Part One, uninterrupted , it has now been uploaded to my website by my wonderful webmaster, Sloppy.

    You will find it at

    If you have been, thank you for reading.