the morning after…
It’s been less than a full day since I posted my first short story and I’ve already received some excellent feedback. Thanks redditors! It was better received then I expected for my first shot, so I am thrilled about that. I knew the piece would not be without faults and a few folks provided some new perspective.
Unfortunately, I now face a dilemma. Do I take the given advice and start something new or do I attempt to fix and expand upon the existing story? I’ll be on a plane for the majority of today with plenty of time to think about that…
Meanwhile, I leave you with a couple of entertaining excerpts from Egil’s Saga from the Icelandic Sagas. One is a bit of Viking poetry composed by Egil in his old age and the other is from the text itself:
My head bobs like a bridled horse
it plunges baldly into woe.
my middle leg both droops and drips
while both my ears are dry.
The men of the household drank to his companion’s health, with the same words. A man was given the job of keeping Egil and his companions served with one toast after another, and he urged them to drink it up at once. Egil told his companions that they should not drink any more, and he drank theirs for them too when there was no way to avoid it.
Egil started to feel that he would not be able to go on like this. He stood up and walked across the floor to where Armod was sitting, seized him by the shoulders and thrust him up against a wall-post. Then Egil spewed a torrent of vomit that gushed all over Armod’s face, filling his eyes and nostrils and mouth and pouring down his beard and chest. Armod was close to choking, and when he managed to let out his breath, a jet of vomit gushed out with it. All Armod’s men who were there said that Egil had done a base and despicable deed by not going outside when he needed to vomit, but had made a spectacle of himself in the drinking-room instead.
Egil said, ‘Don’t blame me for following the master of the house’s example. He’s spewing his guts up just as much as I am.’