White Shadows

By Sean O'Meara

Step into the world of White Shadows, a collection of 10 captivating short stories that explore the depths of our human nature under the confines of societal expectations and conformity. These thought-provoking tales reveal the hidden sides of ourselves that often remain obscured in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to emerge. From the constraints of a strict religious community to the pressures of societal norms, these stories delve into the complexities of the human condition and offer a glimpse into the brighter selves that reside within us. With each story, the reader is taken on a journey that illuminates the human spirit and the power of self-discovery. White Shadows is a compelling read that will leave you contemplating the intricacies of the human psyche long after you’ve turned the final page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398488212

Sean O'Meara

Living in Dublin, Sean is married to Finola. They have three adult children and six grandchildren. Sean has had a long and distinguished career in Irish advertising at the CEO level and has served as Chairman of the Advertising Standards Authority for Ireland for nine years. Enjoying songwriting, he and his brother Frank have enjoyed a number of successes, most notably GRACE, a number-one hit for Dubliner Jim McCann in 1986 and recorded in 2018 by Rod Stewart. White Shadows is an intriguing look behind our human selves under conditions of inhibited expectations and imposed conformities. Perhaps beneath these shadows, our brighter selves live, the ones we seldom bring forth for many reasons. This compendium of ten short stories exploit situations where real selves emerge.

Book preview

About the Author

Living in Dublin, Sean is married to Finola. They have three adult children and six grandchildren.

Sean has had a long and distinguished career in Irish advertising at the CEO level and has served as Chairman of the Advertising Standards Authority for Ireland for nine years.

Enjoying songwriting, he and his brother Frank have enjoyed a number of successes, most notably GRACE, a number-one hit for Dubliner Jim McCann in 1986 and recorded in 2018 by Rod Stewart.

White Shadows is an intriguing look behind our human selves under conditions of inhibited expectations and imposed conformities. Perhaps beneath these shadows, our brighter selves live, the ones we seldom bring forth for many reasons. This compendium of ten short stories exploit situations where real selves emerge.

Dedication

To Finola with love and gratitude.

Copyright Information ©

Sean O’Meara 2023

The right of Sean O’Meara to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398488205 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398488212 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

A Waste of Time

Now, before you start, young lady, and what’s this your name is again – Kathryn? Okay, Kathryn with a K – I need you to listen to me. It’s very easy for you as a whipper-snapper trainee reporter to say what you want to say, publish only one side of things; but let me give you my side of the story. OK? I may well wander a bit but what do you expect at this stage of my life?

You asked to see me and I agreed, goodness knows why. You asked me about myself. Well, I am Sister Joseph and have been for many, many years. Before that, I think I used to be Mairead Fitzgerald. The staff here keep telling me that I was. The thing is, they’re probably right. Anyway, that doesn’t matter.

And I can’t argue when they tell me I was born in 1936, so you can work things out for yourself. One thing I’ve learned is that nothing changes. You see, all my life everything was decided for me by others. First my parents, Lord rest them. Then, most likely, a posh Mother-General somewhere up in Dublin, or an Archbishop, or the Government, or all of them. I was told what to do, how to do it and ask no questions.

My opinion was never sought, and I was given no say in anything; all decision made and forced on me. Am I bitter? Am I what? Our own Mother-Superior always said that our vocations were enough payment for us and we didn’t need to have anything else in our lives. Our work with mothers and babies was our reward and that’s why the Good Lord put us on this earth and we should be forever thankful to be so fortunate in life.

But, sadly, I know now, I’ve lived a life of neglect and regret, young lady, and you can quote me on that.

A vocation, and what it’s meant to be, is good and fine, but that didn’t take into account that we were real women with real hearts, wants and feelings. We were never hungry but never satisfied; never cold but never warm. There was no entertainment, no singing, no dancing, and no pastimes. Anything remotely resembling fun was frowned upon. Instead we were told to get down on our knees and say our prayers.

It’s only now I have realised that we were used and abused, because of all this vocation nonsense. It suited the powers to be to turn a blind eye because it shoved their responsibilities for national education and health services onto us. And it wasn’t our Order only; it applied to all the religious orders, who were similarly impoverished. One Christian Brother that I knew, Brother Clancy, told me that he walked around for months on end with holes gaping in his shoes, letting in the wet. His shirt collars and cuffs were frayed at the edges and his one black cassock, worn shiny from the constant use over many years, was never replaced. But he didn’t complain; just got on with it, because of his so-called vocation. Poor man.

We were hidden from real life. Do you know that I never knew, and still don’t know, what a pint of milk costs, or a sliced-pan or a vegetable? God, was I naive or what?

And don’t you smirk at me like that, Kathryn, I’m telling the truth.

Now, let me close my eyes for a moment. I’m feeling a bit tired.

Right, where was I? OK, I remember. But have some patience with me, young lady. My mind may be going now but I do remember those days more easily than I remember yesterday. That’s what happens.

Let me tell you; I was a gorgeous and energetic and infectious young girl; goodness, how I loved life. A bit of a tomboy, maybe, because I wanted to reach out and grab life for all it was worth. Probably smart, too. I got very good marks in class. I had many friends. People always commented on my blonde hair, my broad smile and my shining eyes.

I wrote poetry and made up little songs. I loved dancing, painting, making all sorts of handicrafts, and trinkets. I was proud of my talents but that was a time when the sin of pride was stuffed down your throat.

Gosh, I really was something else altogether. Someone once called me infectious and I had to look up the dictionary to see what that meant.

And now that I think of it, they probably saw that side of my personality and gave me a religious man’s name, Joseph, probably to dampen down my feminine side. God forgive me for even thinking this but, how cruel, yes, that’s the only word for it. I wanted to be Sister Carmel, after my maternal grandmother, a really lovely woman altogether.

I see, young lady, that you’re shocked, I can see it in your face. Well, don’t be; I’ve more to tell you. If I’m going too fast for you to scribble your notes, just tell me, Okay? Good.

Naturally, like all young girls, I had a keen interest in boys. You wouldn’t expect anything else, would you? Entirely normal for us young ones. But there was one in particular, Christopher Stenson. It was when I was about 14. He went to the Christian Brothers and I was in Presentation. We actually never ever spoke but exchanged fond looks when we passed each other on the street. Once, we actually parked our bicycles next to each other near the cathedral and just being that close to him was very special. We were too shy to even talk, just nodding our affections to each other. Oh why didn’t I tell him how I felt!

Talk of innocence? And don’t give me that look, young lady.

Then, of course, just like my older sister, Sinead, before me, I was packed off to the Sisters of Charity in the next town and handed in, when my time came. I went along with it and didn’t question anything.

So, I gave it a go, and wonders to behold, began to look forward to a life shared with good people, young postulants like me, holy and devout, and giving up my life to the Lord in the service of others. What could be better?