Declan O' Dwyer

A commission done for the novel-writer,



"He had advanced to Sandycove Point. It wouldn't be long before Sealladh na
Mara would come into view. Did he want to go any further? Declan stopped for
a moment to consider his options. Should he proceed and continue his walk,
or was it better to turn around and head back to his home? The decision
should have been easy, but lately nothing was easy anymore. Turning towards
the waves beside him he simply rested. The pale moonlight dimly illuminated
his surroundings and reflected on the on the surprisingly quiet sea. It was
the low tide, the white beach was exposed and untouched apart from the
footprints that he had left. It was lonely here, though to Declan it seemed
blissfully serene. Normally, he would have taken comfort in such a sight,
but today nothing could chase away his worries.

As he watched the receding waves he tried to clear his mind. However, he
found it difficult to let go. Pieces of conversation were replaying in his
mind and over and over again, as he wondered why and how he had ended up in
his current situation. He was beyond the point of simple frustration.
Resignation had long since set in. Fintan had been very specific in his
instructions. Disobedience would not be tolerated. He knew there was little
choice but to do as the older man said, yet he didn't have to like it. He
picked up a sea shell and carefully examined it in the moonlight. "Once a
life, now nothing of consequence," he thought, then let it drop again. His
gaze lingered where the shell had impacted the sand. If Fintan continued
with his mad plan they would all be shells.

He felt cold now. Pulling his frock coat tighter around his fragile frame,
he decided it was best to head back. His worries hadn't dissipated, but his
courage had. He couldn't go to Sealladh na Mara. Not today, not ever. He
would have to learn to control the storm of emotions that was raging inside
of him. He quickly glanced at the moon, as if it could offer some sort of
affirmation. His cold, grey eyes were searching for something, but it was
nowhere to be found. "So we just go on?" he asked eventually and he was
almost startled when he heard his own voice. Exactly when had he started to
sound so disheartened and brittle? Perhaps, it was better to remain silent.
Speaking up for himself was bound to accomplish nothing."

~By




It was a lot of fun working on this painting. Thanks to everyone in the forums at gfx for helping!
WIP can be seen here: [link]

Thanks for watching!