Young Writers Society

The sun shone down upon the country road, captivating dust in it's beautiful rays. The horse moved slowly up the gentle incline, pulling the carvan behind it. It's head was down and it's mane flicking on occasion. It's tail batting green flies which are circling it. The only sound which could be heard was that of a bird tweeting from a tree on the roadside. Arthur Murphy sat in front of his horse, gently pulling at the reins encouraging speed. He had thick wavy ginger locks which seemed to droop across his forehead. He wore a white shirt, and khaki trousers. Patchwork was apparent on his knees. He had deep cracks in his hand, evidencing that he had worked for most of his life. He noted the sign approaching on the left; it read Applyby.

"Sophie! Wake your brother. We're nearly there!" He had a thick irish accent which seemed to roll of his tounge like butter.

"He's up Daddy." She yelled back, an irish accent, yet with a yorkshire twinge from her life in England.

"Paddy! Come up here then you lazy git!" he laughed slightly. Over the horizon Arthur could see the faint outlines of pubs and carvans, followed by the hum of their community. Appearing at the front of the carriage was a boy. He had a muscled build and hair like his fathers. He looked around 17 and wore a thick silver chain around his neck. He stretched and perched next to his father.

"What is it Pa?"

"We need a new horse today. Should take about an hour."

"Aye pa."

"And we're her for two days."

"Aye Pa."

"You don't have a fucking clue what i'm getting at do you?"

"....no Pa."

"Fuck sake's Paddy, you can be a right twat sometimes."

"Sorry Pa." Arthur sighed slightly. He cracked his neck from left to right, before turning to his son.

"I want you to find a wife." Paddy turned and met his fathers eyes. He saw his reflection in his father eyes.

"Aye Pa. . . I'll find it."

"Good." Arthur turned back to the road and focused on the road ahead, before long they would be there.

The festival was always bustling, it was the biggest affair of the gypsy calender. Men haggled over horses and beer, where as the woman walked around trying to catch the mens eyes. It was the way it always was. Paddy sat in the beer garden of the disraeli pub, with a cool glass of guiness. His fathers words ringing throughout his head, 'I want you to find a wife.' He drank the rest of his drink and stood up. He was going to find a wife. He grabbed his jacket and headed to the street. Beautifully dressed woman walked the streets, yet none caught his eye. Not one. His biggest flaw, his biggest mistake, his biggest weakness; his sexuality.