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Omagh
The Green Book states that “the nationhood of all Ireland has been accepted as a fact for more than 1500 years, and has been recognized internationally as well.” But that’s the Irish Republican Army’s book, a bunch of pansies. The Real IRA accepts this as well, ever since we’ve seceded from the Provisional IRA; except, we do not bow down to peace processes between us and the Machiavellian Protestants that plague our country. You know them as the British. I wipe with the Good Friday Agreement. We will not stop until Northern Ireland is a united Ireland. Today is my first day as a member. My name is Carson, newly initiated RIRA member. My first destination is the town of Fintona, Ireland.
The town is small, roughly a population of 1000. Beautiful place compared to back home, not the type of place you’d think would be ran by the RIRA. The buildings are symmetrical in shades of peach and grass is greener than any of the grass I’ve ever saw. I make my way down an alley, where I make a right a thick brick wall. The right leads me down dirty cement stairs, wet from rain a few days before. It’s very dark, I barely see anything in front of me until I feel the metallic door against be hands.
I entered the room fully dressed in my gear, which consisted of my black ski mask, camouflage jacket, and AK-47. The gun is standard in all provisions of the IRA. The room is hot and filled with cigarette smoke, there are no vents to clear any of it out. You could feel the tension in the room. I see Shakespeare coming towards me through the smoke. If it wasn’t for him, I never would’ve gotten into my little secret society.
“You know if you kicked off your high heels, you could walk a little faster.” Shakespeare snaps at me playfully. I’ve known him before we hit puberty, while we were throwing rocks at British paratroopers in our effort for independence. “David’s been waiting for you. Couldn’t start without you I guess.” I sit down in a wooden chair in front of me, making myself at home. My eyes start adjusting to the smoke in the room, and I start seeing the room more clearly; there are 6 of us total.
“Ya must be Carson then, bout time ya should up. My name’s David, quick introductions before we get started.” His accent was thick, even for an Irishman. I
I meet three other figures in the room: Pink, a heavyset individual with curly red hair whose height-weight ratio looks imperfect for his flabby pale self. Daniel, easily could’ve been on the national Irish basketball team, standing in at 6’6” with a full beard. Finally, Arnie; he was in Layman’s terms: a genius. He was the mastermind of all bombings and maker of all bombs, and even though soft spoken, had more of a fiery hatred for the British than any of us, including David. I could tell by their dialect they were true-blooded Northern Irishmen.
“Now, let’s discuss how we leave our gift exactly.” David said, all business-like.
“We don’t exactly know where we’re leaving the bomb, David. Is it even ready?” Pink added in. I could tell he was already gonna get on my nerves. “We don’t know what city, what area in that city, or how we’re getting to that city. Did anyone else think of that? Huh?!”
“SHUT UP Pink!!! You British-loving bastard!!! Say another word, and I’ll stomp your puny Irish brains on the steps outside.” David said, not business-like. “We’re leaving the bomb in Omagh, it’s about 11 kilometers north of here.”
“That’s place is perfect, the streets are always loaded with civilians.” Daniel said as if he didn’t just hear what came out of David’s mouth. David was literally just about to kill another member just for talking too much. What was he gonna do if he decided to quit? Castrate him? Can’t say it was what I was expecting on a first day, but hey, I better get used to death soon. That’s when the progress continues.
Shakespeare jumps into the pit. “We can use my car. It’s a maroon Vauxhall Cavalier, and untraceable without any distinguishable features. AND, and… no license, huh?” David walked over, not as tall as Daniel, but more of a presence. You could feel him coming towards you. I’ve never seen a man feared by everyone in a single room before. He bends over to put both hands on his face.
“That’s why I like ya son. New recruits, and an explosion for the explosion. Take me to dinner first, would ya Shakespeare? How’s the bomb coming Arnie?”
“Put it near the courthouse.” Arnie responds, disregarding the irrelevant question asked. “This damn thing a quarter of a ton. Might as well put it somewhere that’ll make a difference.”
“If you were as charming as you were smart Arnie-boy, I might be able to look at you when you talk.” Shut up, Pink. Arnie’s middle finger said the same thought I had.
“Then it’s settled, once Arnie finishes the bomb tonight, we leave tomorrow, at separate times, in separate vehicles. Got it? Me and Shakespeare are the only ones riding together. Write it in your journals boys, August 13, 1998, we make history. Another step towards Irish independence.” David concluded the meeting.
Me and Shakespeare are the first to leave. It’s already dark outside. “I know you’re nervous.” Shakespeare said. “Stuff like this fades. After your first bombing it gets easier. You stop thinking about the families, and hey, if David likes you enough, you might get to go on shipping raids for weapons. New weapons, eh? That gets the blood going. Don’t worry, they won’t catch us. After the Guildford Four, they barely arrest anyone guilty for this without outstanding evidence. Get some sleep, Carson. We leave for Omagh tomorrow.”
Truth be told, I couldn’t wait. I had seen images of the aftermaths of bombings and I couldn’t wait to be a part of that. Welcome to this world, an IRA world.
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I wanted to write a first-person point-of-view story with an antihero as the main protagonist, with flawed views.