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Inmate Blog Entry: Monday, January 25 2016

Inmate Blog Category: fiction

Nathan Sessing's Profile
Age: 30
Location: Susanville, CA
Total Blog Entries: 1

Here’s a bit of my writing… Thor could play amongst wild brambles all day without fear of them ever hurting him. All of ten, the youth’s flame-hued locks were disorderly, and not very long. Those sapphire eyes were as intense as bellicose skies, and he had an excellent club he carried about for hunting game—or being hunted by it. Father often had to spend his time in inter-realm conquest, and when he did visit was to deliver the bloodstained spoils and severed heads of his enemies. I cannot stress to you enough that this resulted in a rather fierce little soul. His mother is what you would refer to as a witch or a wizardess, both which originally meant wise one anyways. She frequently manipulated the bushes, growing them at thousands of times their normal speed. They would form crudely stubby war hammers for Thor to use that were surprisingly tough. Only elvin-flame would destroy them… The goblin was a few feet tall, but it snarled with a frightening braveness. The tiny bit of blade it carried dripped with a strange-colored liquid, and Thor understood that it would bring about an agonizing reaction. Its thews were like bunches of wires, and the leathery hide looked impossibly tough. The thing sprang lie an arrow shot by the jotun-archer Thjazi. Startled, Thor flailed an arm to protect himself. Pain zipped across it and hot blood sprang free, but Thor was not as badly hurt as he initially believed. The thing cavorted in mockery beside a large rock, an infantile snicker coming from its mouth. Thor’s weakness quickly became rage. He came for the goblin slowly, hands held high. It leapt, but he swatted it earthwards. He jumped forward and pinned the little goblin under his tall boot. It thrashed possessedly, growling in fey-language. Thor had a knife of his own, and he severed the apricot-sized head. Thor looked at his arm that bore the numerous slashes form the goblin’s jaws. He picked up the blade and rubbed some of the venom on his knife. Then he strung the head on a leather thong holding a row of similarly-grisly trophies, softly singing a war chant… Read the first saga in my Son of the Earth series, written under the pen name Ari Tyrsson, at C.2015 Ari Tyrsson

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