Reluctantly Charmed by Ellie O'Neill

Author:Ellie O'Neill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Touchstone

19

Step Five

We see a time of taken freedom

and sharpened, darkened skies,

The tears of men we know are coming,

and all will wipe their eyes,

We see a time of twisted fate, a time of broken glory,

It is your future, it is coming—we know this as your story.

We see a time of burning havens,

an air of fire that moans and sings,

We see a time of great unrest,

a time of strife and all these things,

We see a time when torment spreads,

and all else is out of mind,

A time of being shook by pain,

which makes you weep and makes you blind.

So in these doubtful waiting hours,

our lessons to you we teach,

We ask you to stop the time,

put ticks and tocks away from reach,

And know that we are old and young,

and this is how it’s meant to be,

Not confined by clocks and tocks,

but living in peace as us and we.

The fifth Step had a tsunami effect. Videos appeared online of people holding hammers over watches and smashing them triumphantly. Bloggers left instructions about how to disconnect the clock on computer screens. The Anoraks lit a small fire in a metal bin and burned some calendars. A man was arrested on O’Connell Street for throwing stones at Clerys clock. (The Gardaí said he was “vandalizing a national monument.” He said he was “doing the fairies’ will.” I wasn’t sure how his defense would stand up in court.) Of all the Steps, number five resonated the most. Or maybe it was the cumulative effect—five is better than four.

I hadn’t left my flat during the weekend before I posted the Step on the Tuesday, but I was told by reliable sources—my parents and Matthew—that out there in the real world there was a serious sense of anticipation, excitement, and energy on the streets. Seven Step parties were held for the big reveal, and groups on Facebook had organized events. Schools had held art competitions and posted the results online—brightly colored pictures full of leprechauns jiving and fairies sprinkling fairy dust on the streets of Dublin. Fiona had been approached to sell her story on “the real Kate McDaid.” She said it was the best laugh she’d had all week.

People were wearing green T-shirts with SEVEN STEPS scrawled on the front. There was a YouTube video of a guy getting a tattoo of the words “Seven Steps” across his chest. What would his mother say? Ann Daly, the newsreader on the telly, made a reference to the fairies in an interview with Colin Powell. They’d been talking about religion. By all accounts, Mr. Powell remained stony-faced; thankfully, the fairies hadn’t hit the political press. Every radio station played “The Seven Steps” constantly. Someone had bought the rights to use it for a coffee ad, so it was everywhere. So was Jim: while I ducked and dived he posed and strutted. The remaining members of Red Horizon faded into a smoky background as he strode into the spotlight.

I’d received requests for interviews from journalists promising to tell my side of the story and TV crews wanting to follow me.

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