The House of the Fornicator now on audio

Apologies fro previous missive which did not have correct links.
I am delighted to announce that my story The House of the Fornicator about an uncherished daughter who flees to the city from a rakish and abusive father is now available on audio as well as ebook. It is for sale at Audible, Amazon and iTunes. Free with Audible Trial. Listen to a free sample and/or buy with one click for £3.23 at or on Kindle for £0.99 at Also available at and in other epub versions for $0.99 at

The House of the Fornicator
Opening sample

She was two days old when her mother died. Her father blamed her for the death of his wife and for having the temerity to be born with total disregard for the health of her bearer. Her brother, influenced by the father, despised her also for depriving him prematurely of a mother.
The mother was thirty five when she died. No one ever asked Esther if she missed her mother. All her life she had longed for her especially as a child when she was fostered out to a childless aunt who was cold and Spartan in her ways. And that upbringing ingrained itself in the gaunt appearance of the youthful Esther.
When she was twelve Esther was considered old enough to be sent back to her father’s house where she had to cook meals and wash and iron her father’s clothes and her brother’s clothes and become a latter day Cinderella. Father and son often caroused in the town and one night the father brought home a woman who stayed over in his bed. And the next morning when Esther threw him an angry look he said, ‘You are the cause of this. If I had my own wife here,’ he added staring accusingly at her, ‘there would be no need for any of this.’ Esther was afraid to answer and, without batting an eyelid before the woman came down the stairs, he ordered the daughter to put on a ‘nice’ fry for her. And afterwards Esther saw the father through the window of his van handing the woman a fifty euro note before driving her back to wherever she came from.
Esther’s life was passing in that way of drudgery until a sunny morning in June in her twenty third year. She was hanging out the washing when she heard the sound of a tractor and looked across at the road and Jerome MacElwy, a farmer from further down the valley, waved to her.
The churns were empty and rattling in his back trailer and she thought he would have a few bob in his pocket now after selling the milk in the creamery.


Author: James Lawless

Irish novelist, poet and short story writer.

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