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About Bray

One day, she don’t show. Weeks pass—nada. I’m thinkin’, “Where’s my lil’ fish?” Maybe she got out, found her reef, or maybe some shark got her. Breaks my damn heart. I exaggerate sometimes, sure—say she fought off ten cops with them heels—but truth is, she’s a survivor, like Nemo, lost but scrappy. “Mine, mine, mine,” them seagulls’d say, but she ain’t nobody’s to claim.

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Then, this guy next to me starts chatting. He’s a local artist, and we hit it off. We’re talking about everything—art, life, the weirdness of Carrickmacross. He tells me about the history of the town, and I’m like, “Wow, I had no idea!” It’s cool to connect with someone who gets it.

Listen Back: Local Carrickmacross resident says people are fearful and afraid