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Weekly Contest #376
The people of Ireland understood us once. ‘The Good People’, they called us long ago. They were afraid of us, yes, but they also respected us. Lived in tandem with us. Accepted us as part of the landscape, like the green fields, dark caves, brown bogs, and craggy mountains all around them. They even used to employ women to mimic us at their funerals, though their mortal wailing was a pale imitation of our own ethereal elegies. Those stuffy priests wanted to deny our very existence, of course, and so they did away with even those meagre tri...
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