Beau
I wasn’t sure if anyone else scented the newcomer or if it was just me. I had smelt that scent before when I was a teenager while we were visiting my great grandparents in Ireland. My father had taken my brother and I down by the water to collect seashells that washed up on the beach. My Granny had told us not to go down there at dusk. She said that monsters roamed the waters at night, but my father had said she was just a superstitious old woman. My brother, Eric, was five years younger than me and I was chasing him along the edge of the Celtic Sea when I heard the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. It was a woman singing a mournful song. It was an old Irish folk song that my Granny would sing to us to get us to fall asleep. I was draw to it like a moth to the flame.
I had fol
