Brid McGinley

Blue glass is the rarest. She holds a cerulean piece, salt-pocked, sand-scoured. ‘A gem,’ she imagines her father say. Rainbow shards nestle in her bucket, collected on this bejewelled shore, this bottle graveyard below the abandoned pub. And out of the blue, she becomes that child — instructed to bring her father home — standing bathed in leaking light from the pub’s doorway, fug of smoke and stale air, while he sings, ‘I’ve Been a Wild Rover.’ She rattles the shards, tesserae in the mosaic of memory, and her father’s eyes sparkle across time, vivid as the blue glass in her hand.

This story won Second Prize in the January 2022 Monthly Micro Competition.

About the author: Bríd McGinley writes short fiction and creative non-fiction. Her work has appeared in The Bangor Literary Journal, Sonder Magazine, The Honest Ulsterman, The Bramley, FlashFlood, and Splonk among others. She lives by the sea in Co Donegal. @BridMcG