Oslo, 1056, a beautiful story by Borges in which an old man in Old England is slowly dying in a barn (I think) – he’s the last person in the country who was brought up with the old gods, so once he is gone those ways are lost forever. The story points out that whenever a person dies it’s not only an individual who is lost but a whole universe of experience. My story is a small, slightly less sad, nod to Borges’ wonderful observations.
And to finish, here’s a non-traditional Viking song by The Cardigans –
Oslo, 1056 – In my boyhood, long ago, I sat and saw longboats streak along the fjords, like spears flung by All-Father Odin. Odin’s one-eyed face shone with joy, brighter than the sun, as he saw our longboats flung to destinations far and near, for raids or trade. Then Christians arrived and we learned we were wrong. All-Father is called Yahweh, Jesus his son. But when black clouds roll over, burying the sky, and thunder goes growling along the fjord, it’s still Thor’s face I see watching over us. I still shake with pride as jagged sparks fly from his hammer.
This piece of flash fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers: a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Here’s the link to the stories and this week’s picture is below (originally there were rooftops visible in the photo, but I only needed the sky and so I cropped it a little).