By Brian Keenan
Brian Keenan went to Beirut in 1985 for a metamorphosis of scene from his local Belfast. He turned headline information while he was once abducted through fundamentalist Shi'ite militiamen and held within the suburbs of Beirut for the following 4 and a part years. for far of that point he used to be close off from all information and make contact with with somebody except his jailers and, later, his fellow hostages, among them John McCarthy.
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Extra resources for An Evil Cradling
I finished the bottle—and the thesis—off at five Monday morning. I fell asleep on the couch. Rhonda quietly got the Getting Here boys up and hushed them off to school, where she worked as a teaching assistant. Almost noon I woke up to find the empty bottle of Bacardi tucked in beside me on the couch. I wrenched it out with a little too much force and it flung past me to shatter on the floor. Shit. Shards everywhere. I rushed to pick them up, cutting my feet in the dash to the kitchen for the dustpan.
Whenever we get rollin’ on the booze, Todd retreats to the basement. I swing open the front door to get a breath of the cool, crisp fall air. How long since Dana left? I have no idea. Several plates littered with shards of burnt toast and hardened egg yolk ring my bed. I need a drink. I slink down the stairs into Todd’s tiny windowless, airless bedroom. I tiptoe my way through piles of stale, dirty laundry. I leave the light off—don’t want to alert him to my presence. I hear him laugh at the TV.
All of which is my way of saying I learned early the importance of perseverance and determination, of sticking up for myself. “Bitesize. Shorty. Half-a-Man. Little Fella. ” The nicknames stuck, said now with warmth and respect, the sting gone. I fashion us all fishing rods out of willow branches and some old line and hooks I find in a broom closet by the wood stove. The fire in the stove sputters and hisses. “Michael, Michael, take us down to fish,” my little sisters beg. I turn the little cottage upside down, but there is no bait to be found, and no shovel to dig for worms.