Small Realities

Inside the mind of Lance Schonberg

Thorvald’s Wyrd 066

Warmth seeped into his body as Thorvald eyes fell closed.  Perhaps a peaceful death wasn’t so bad after all.  It leeched away all pain and put flight the cold holding his bones.

“Rise, my son.  And well met.”

The Wanderer’s voice, and none other.  Thorvald opened his eyes.  He mostly saw thick blades of grass, but there lat his bare arm, pink and free of wounds, on the ground before him.  “Odinsacre.”  A whisper, not a croak.  He lived?  How?

“Aye, that is what men have named it.  My place, as much as any might be in Jotunheim.  Rise, Thorvald.”

Next * Previous * First * Index
Advertisements

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: