Black Donnelly, Rats and Pigs
(eBook)

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Published
Fergus P Egan, 2018.
Format
eBook
Status
Available Online

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Language
English
ISBN
9781999394110

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Citations

APA Citation, 7th Edition (style guide)

Fergus P. Egan., & Fergus P. Egan|AUTHOR. (2018). Black Donnelly, Rats and Pigs . Fergus P Egan.

Chicago / Turabian - Author Date Citation, 17th Edition (style guide)

Fergus P. Egan and Fergus P. Egan|AUTHOR. 2018. Black Donnelly, Rats and Pigs. Fergus P Egan.

Chicago / Turabian - Humanities (Notes and Bibliography) Citation, 17th Edition (style guide)

Fergus P. Egan and Fergus P. Egan|AUTHOR. Black Donnelly, Rats and Pigs Fergus P Egan, 2018.

MLA Citation, 9th Edition (style guide)

Fergus P. Egan, and Fergus P. Egan|AUTHOR. Black Donnelly, Rats and Pigs Fergus P Egan, 2018.

Note! Citations contain only title, author, edition, publisher, and year published. Citations should be used as a guideline and should be double checked for accuracy. Citation formats are based on standards as of August 2021.

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Grouped Work IDf6694280-e2f3-091d-05d2-d086513205ed-eng
Full titleblack donnelly rats and pigs
Authoregan fergus p
Grouping Categorybook
Last Update2022-10-18 20:50:33PM
Last Indexed2024-03-29 04:56:44AM

Book Cover Information

Image Sourcehoopla
First LoadedFeb 26, 2024
Last UsedFeb 26, 2024

Hoopla Extract Information

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    [synopsis] => I want to get past Black Donnelly's horrible place; but not before my uncle is convinced of things there. Was it really a nightmare I had last night?
No! I am certain of what I saw.
Rounding the bend, there it is. Black Donnelly's place in the spent bog, as bleak and foreboding as ever. Parked in front is Mickey Motor's motorcar. And, Mickey peering in through the front window, cupping his hands to his eyes against the glare of the dirty panes.
"I brought two pigs for Donnelly. He's not in the slaughterhouse where he ought to be at this time of day. And, there's no answer from the house. He must be dead or something!"
Mickey goes around to the back, to enter the slaughterhouse by the trapdoor, the one used to haul the carcasses by the winch. There is an entrance to the house from the slaughterhouse. Mickey seems to know his way around the forbidding place. We wait for Mickey to reappear. My uncle hammers on the door with his fists.
He shouts, "Mickey! Mickey! Are you there? What's keeping you? For God's sake, Mickey, answer me!"
There is a sound from the house. Mickey, or someone, is falling about in there. Is he tripping or slipping or what? At last the sound of the front door being unlatched, and Mickey stumbles out holding on to the wall for support. His black boots and blue overall knees are wet, so he must have fallen on a wet floor. He moves away from the door, still leaning on the wall for support. Then he vomits and slides to the ground. He is shaken, pale and weak. Nevertheless, he grips my uncle's wrist like an iron vice to prevent him from entering. I am still down at the road, but I can hear their lowered voices.
Mickey is still spluttering and coughing bits of vomit. "Donnelly, dead."
"Do you think the lads from Cork...?"
"No! Too gruesome. Not even the Tans at their worst would have done this."
"Done what?"
Mickey grips him with two hands to impress upon him not to enter. "His chest. His heart cut out."
"With his own knives?"
"I don't think so. It's too crude; many hacking cuts; more like he was gnawed."
Now my uncle slides to the ground. So bewildered am I that I almost laugh at the spectacle unfolding in front of me.
This is the evidence, what I saw last night was no dream.
I shut my eyes. How quickly things change.
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