The image of Medb’s severed head has never haunted me.
For a while I found it comforting, in a strange sort of way.
I can still hear the raucous belly-laugh, mirrored in Medb’s smiling face.
A face, now, forever frozen in time.
Everything happened so quickly.
What I do remember is Medb looking as beautiful in death as she was in life.
I drew her to me.
It was one of the most intimate moments in my life.
Medb’s blood was everywhere.
Rose-coloured blood covered me like a liquid shroud.
I could even taste it on my lips, and feel it running down my beard.
It was the smell of death.
Death mingled with car oil.
Although my eyes were a blur, some of my other senses were working overtime, trying to make sense of my new environment: creaking metal, burnt rubber, the wind in the trees.
And in the silence three drops of blood fell on my forehead.
In. Slow. Motion.
Medb, in death, anointing me, I fantasized.
Not for a moment did I consider the possibility that this may have been a nightmare.
This was real.