Michael Cotter at Wheeo Inn (Historical Fiction)
This is another story written based on the newspaper records for Michael's murder trial. We needed to try and bring characterisation to the people. We have to remember that our ancestors were just like us. Their environments may have be similar, their homes simpler but they feel love, lust, hatred just the way modern people do. I have two versions of this story. I'll post both but feel free to comment what you think. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul … to take.” The rough sandstone of the cell tears at the skin of my knees, but the pain is no comfort. Could it only have been seven hours ago that we’d met John at the inn? I had watched Katie fuss over the children before we left. The tight twists at her nape reminded me of a shamrock, fitting for a St Patrick’s celebration. Seven children and her body still filled me with desire; her waist, her bosom and those enchanting Irish eyes. I know my Katie. She loves a drink and a gossip. ...