Post by The Timeless One on Apr 27, 2009 19:50:00 GMT -5
((Not sure where else to put it...
Basically, there is a National Short Story Writing Contest in Canada right now, for grades 8 and 9 (also 7, I think). If I win nationally, I could get 1,000 dollars...so...
It has to be based on a certain theme. I won't list them right now. Also, it has to be between 300 to 700 words. I know, right?
So...without further ado...))
To Catch a Spy
By Zachary Sykes
The small boy was pushed roughly forward with the butt of the long, wooden spear. He looked back behind him at the snarling face of the hairy man. His long, brown hair hung out from the bottom of his horned helmet. His beard looked as if it hadn’t been washed in ages. It was the general appearance of the armoured men who were leading their prisoners down the long, grassy slope.
The other captives had a look of pure fright upon their faces. They had never expected to be captured, especially not from their own men. Bjornfin had a feeling he knew why this was happening. They would be in for a bad night.
The night was beautiful. There was not a cloud in the sky to block the twinkling stars from shining down upon the beautiful world.
One of the men held a torch, which lighted the way for the others. Bjornfin still could not see much, but he soon realized where they were leading them. Grass gave way to sand as his bare feet plodded along behind the rest of the party. They were at the beach. Nearby, he could hear waves sweeping against the shore. It seemed as if the tide was coming in.
After several more moments, the Viking captors rudely stopped the men. The boy adjusted his stance slightly, as he was standing on something sharp. A broken half of a shell, no doubt. The men lined their prisoners up, and the leader, a tall, red-haired man stepped forward.
“Now, listen carefully, maggots, because I’m not repeating myself. Which one of you is the spy in our ranks?” he bellowed.
He knew it. Although their method of going about it was a little crude, the boy realized they had received information about some sort of spy. He had to act natural. Otherwise the cause would be lost.
Of course, the other men looked around, still shocked. Each face bore the look of genuine fear. One of the captives, a braver man the rest, made the mistake of speaking up.
“Pardon, My Lord, but none of us have been…”
The boy turned his head in disgust as the man’s sentence was suddenly cut short. Such filthy animals.
“Well? We can kill the lot of you, if you don’t speak up.” Bjornfin laughed inwardly at that. It probably had not occurred to the man that he would get much more information out of a live captive then a dead one. Another prisoner decided to talk.
“If I sa-” he began, but the sound was cut off, again, by the sound of steel hitting flesh. Bjornfin could see in the Vikings’ eyes that they were lusting for more blood. As the Norsemen began a frenzy of killing, the boy felt seawater lapping at his feet. The tide seemed to be coming back in.
That was when an idea struck him.
After the rest of the captives lay dead in the slowly rising water, the Vikings advanced on Bjornfin. He needed more time.
“Well, little one,” began the leader, his breath coming much quicker then before. He was evidently excited. “Are you the spy?”
“Me?” asked the boy, mocking ignorance. “Spy? No, I don’t think I am.” The tide was now at knee level. Bjornfin took an exploratory step backwards, and almost found himself falling. He had reached the deep end. He smiled to himself. Perfect.
“I think he’s lying!” screamed one of the men. He raised his sword. “Lets kill him, to make sure!”
They all reached for their weapons. Njörðr, please aid me, Bjornfin asked of the Father of the Vanir, Lord of the Sea. In his religion, Njörðr was the supreme deity. He hopped now, more then ever, that He was with him.
The sea level was rising quicker now. As the water reached waist height, Bjornfin called out.
“The time of Ragnarok draws closer, fiends! Are you sure you have chosen the right side?” He was speaking, of course, of the final battle between the Aesir and Vanir, and the Giants. Angered, the Vikings started to charge.
And fell right into his trap.
As soon as the first man started to rush Bjornfin, he found himself plunging below the water. His armor pulled him down to the very bottom, and the Viking began to drown. Two more of the Norsemen sank before they finally realized their mistake, at which point it was too late. As they tried to rush back to shore, they found the water too high, and they, too, sank like rocks in a pond. Bjornfin took his chance and swam away, having no metal objects on him. When he reached the shore, he looked back. It would not be wise to remain here. He had to assume his cover had been blown.
It was time to return home. He was sure he would be celebrated as a hero back in his village. The time of Ragnarok was fast approaching. He would have to warn the others.
Basically, there is a National Short Story Writing Contest in Canada right now, for grades 8 and 9 (also 7, I think). If I win nationally, I could get 1,000 dollars...so...
It has to be based on a certain theme. I won't list them right now. Also, it has to be between 300 to 700 words. I know, right?
So...without further ado...))
To Catch a Spy
By Zachary Sykes
The small boy was pushed roughly forward with the butt of the long, wooden spear. He looked back behind him at the snarling face of the hairy man. His long, brown hair hung out from the bottom of his horned helmet. His beard looked as if it hadn’t been washed in ages. It was the general appearance of the armoured men who were leading their prisoners down the long, grassy slope.
The other captives had a look of pure fright upon their faces. They had never expected to be captured, especially not from their own men. Bjornfin had a feeling he knew why this was happening. They would be in for a bad night.
The night was beautiful. There was not a cloud in the sky to block the twinkling stars from shining down upon the beautiful world.
One of the men held a torch, which lighted the way for the others. Bjornfin still could not see much, but he soon realized where they were leading them. Grass gave way to sand as his bare feet plodded along behind the rest of the party. They were at the beach. Nearby, he could hear waves sweeping against the shore. It seemed as if the tide was coming in.
After several more moments, the Viking captors rudely stopped the men. The boy adjusted his stance slightly, as he was standing on something sharp. A broken half of a shell, no doubt. The men lined their prisoners up, and the leader, a tall, red-haired man stepped forward.
“Now, listen carefully, maggots, because I’m not repeating myself. Which one of you is the spy in our ranks?” he bellowed.
He knew it. Although their method of going about it was a little crude, the boy realized they had received information about some sort of spy. He had to act natural. Otherwise the cause would be lost.
Of course, the other men looked around, still shocked. Each face bore the look of genuine fear. One of the captives, a braver man the rest, made the mistake of speaking up.
“Pardon, My Lord, but none of us have been…”
The boy turned his head in disgust as the man’s sentence was suddenly cut short. Such filthy animals.
“Well? We can kill the lot of you, if you don’t speak up.” Bjornfin laughed inwardly at that. It probably had not occurred to the man that he would get much more information out of a live captive then a dead one. Another prisoner decided to talk.
“If I sa-” he began, but the sound was cut off, again, by the sound of steel hitting flesh. Bjornfin could see in the Vikings’ eyes that they were lusting for more blood. As the Norsemen began a frenzy of killing, the boy felt seawater lapping at his feet. The tide seemed to be coming back in.
That was when an idea struck him.
After the rest of the captives lay dead in the slowly rising water, the Vikings advanced on Bjornfin. He needed more time.
“Well, little one,” began the leader, his breath coming much quicker then before. He was evidently excited. “Are you the spy?”
“Me?” asked the boy, mocking ignorance. “Spy? No, I don’t think I am.” The tide was now at knee level. Bjornfin took an exploratory step backwards, and almost found himself falling. He had reached the deep end. He smiled to himself. Perfect.
“I think he’s lying!” screamed one of the men. He raised his sword. “Lets kill him, to make sure!”
They all reached for their weapons. Njörðr, please aid me, Bjornfin asked of the Father of the Vanir, Lord of the Sea. In his religion, Njörðr was the supreme deity. He hopped now, more then ever, that He was with him.
The sea level was rising quicker now. As the water reached waist height, Bjornfin called out.
“The time of Ragnarok draws closer, fiends! Are you sure you have chosen the right side?” He was speaking, of course, of the final battle between the Aesir and Vanir, and the Giants. Angered, the Vikings started to charge.
And fell right into his trap.
As soon as the first man started to rush Bjornfin, he found himself plunging below the water. His armor pulled him down to the very bottom, and the Viking began to drown. Two more of the Norsemen sank before they finally realized their mistake, at which point it was too late. As they tried to rush back to shore, they found the water too high, and they, too, sank like rocks in a pond. Bjornfin took his chance and swam away, having no metal objects on him. When he reached the shore, he looked back. It would not be wise to remain here. He had to assume his cover had been blown.
It was time to return home. He was sure he would be celebrated as a hero back in his village. The time of Ragnarok was fast approaching. He would have to warn the others.
