Up In Smoke Reviews: Catalina by Danny Fahey

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Catalina by Danny Fahey

Terras Firdel

Sundreth Leander, aging Headmistress of The Lost Souls and Little Dreams Orphanage, shivered as the cold bit at her weary flesh.

‘Each year winter grows more difficult to endure,’ said Lizbeth, the nun who accompanied the Headmistress. Their thick, black frocks swished as they hurried down the long, dark corridor that ran from the kitchen, past the single rooms for the sleeping nuns, to the large front doors of the orphanage.

‘Especially at the orphanage,’ replied Sundreth bitterly.

‘What is it, Sister?’ asked Lizbeth.

‘Nothing,’ said Sundreth, a little more harshly than she meant. ‘It’s just that these Bralish winters are becoming too cruel for my old bones.’

‘Spring will soon be upon us; then summer,’ answered Lizbeth.

‘Yes, but springs and summers in Bralwall pass in the blinking of an eye,’ the Headmistress snapped back.

‘Who could have rung at this hour?’ asked Lizbeth, changing the subject.

‘Oh who indeed?’ Sundreth replied resentfully. ‘They always ring at this ungodly hour. It is a golden rule that they dump their babies in the early morning so that Headmistresses the world over will be disturbed as they try to sleep!’

Sundreth knew she sounded old and bitter but she could not help it. She was sick of the baskets and the babies and the devil’s cold in her weary bones.

‘Who is it?’ cried a voice from a dark room.

‘It’ll be another one, Sister Constantine,’ replied Lizbeth.

‘Dear heavens above, why this maddening rush of babies to our doorstep?’ cried Sundreth as they continued towards the large doors.

‘Ours is not to wonder, Headmistress.’

‘Oh please,’ said Sundreth, ‘spare me Merilee’s Bralish proverbs.’

‘It’s too cold,’ said Lizbeth, ignoring the spite in her Headmistress’s voice. ‘Far too cold for a baby in a basket.’

‘That never stops them. Nothing stops them. The world is awash with babes in baskets, all seemingly swept up to our doorstep.’