The Spaewife, a snippet

Norse Magic, prophecy, goddesses, and a revenge denied…or is it?

David L. Burkhead

The Norns speak to me.  Not the great Norns, not Verthandi, Urd, and Skuld.  No, I have never been to Urd’s Well, not even in vision.  The lesser Norns speak to me, the Norns that follow each man, woman and child and dictate their fate.

The Norns speak to me and they tell me terrible things.  I give thanks to the gods that I do not understand most of the things they tell me, for what I do understand is awful enough.

The oiled skin in the window glowed with the light of early morning as I kneaded the sourdough into fresh barley dough.  My son, Asbjorn, had gone to the creek to see what fish our traps had caught and my daughter, Drifa still slept in the loft.

I formed the dough into mounds and placed it on the tray.  I placed a fist-sized piece of the dough into a clay pot and set it aside to use for the next batch.

The latch on our cottage door rattled as Sveinna fumbled home after a long night at the Jarl’s longhouse with the other men.

The door open and Sveinna stepped in. “Woman!  Where is my breakfast?”

His words were harsh but I saw the smile in his eyes.  I felt warmth grow upward from my stomach and my own smile pulled at my lips.

Then I saw the Norn behind him.  Her smile held nothing of joy or cheer.  Her eyes narrowed.

Sveinna could not see her, nor could he hear as she looked at me and said, “Soon.”

The smile forming on my own face at Sveinna’s appearance froze.

I turned and put the tray of bread to rise by the hearth, still warmed with the banked fire.  By the time I turned back to Sveinna, the smile was back on my face.

“Welcome home, my husband.”

“Welcome home is it?” He grabbed me and pressed me to him.  Then, he let go and clutched his head. “Oh, the night was long indeed.  There was too much talking, too much singing, and far too much ale.”

I swept up my mixing spoon in my hand and tapped him on the head. “And too many pretty thralls eager to keep you company?”

“There were thralls enough, goodwife,” he said.

“Comely ones?”

“Comely enough,” Sveinna said.  From the first day we’d met, he had never lied to me. “And they would have kept me company had I wished.  But what I wished was to be here with you.  I have not tired of you yet, woman.”

With that he pulled me to him again and we tumbled to the straw-strewn floor.


“Ageirr claimed the field just east of ours,” Sveinna said around a mouthful of bread, “but he has not worked it, not in four summers.  Kvigr said that he had strong sons who would work the land.  After much talk, we agreed to cede the land to Kvigr, but he has to give half of the first harvest from it to Ageirr.”

I nodded and refil[d1] led his cup.  Sveinna always told me about the Thing and the decisions made. “So Kvigr will be our neighbor?”

“Not Kvigr,” Sveinna said. “His sons.” He frowned and looked toward the door. “Speaking of sons, what is keeping that boy?”


I looked up.  Drifa peered down at me from the loft.

“Hey, little girl,” I said.  My gaze flicked past her to the Norn who stood behind her but I could read nothing in its face. “You ready for breakfast.”

“Make water,” she said and began to climb down the ladder from the loft.

“Asbjorn!” Sveinna called behind me as he stepped out the door.

I took Drifa by the hand and draped her cloak over her shoulders against the morning chill.

“Momma!  Now!”

“Patience, sweetling.” I grabbed my own cloak and frowned.  Something was not right.

With Drifa in tow, I went out the door.

Sveinna stood just outside the door, unmoving, his hands spread slightly from his sides.  His Norn looked at me, a broad grin on her face, then looked back the other way.  I followed her gaze.

At the edge of the clearing around the house, where the path led to the river, stood five, no, six men.  One of them held Asbjorn, who struggled in his grip and against the hand clamped over his mouth.  Another stood next to him, his dagger hovering just in front of Asbjorn’s exposed throat.

“What do you wish with my son?” Sveinna’s voice was soft, like the low growl of a wolf before it leaps.

“Your son?” One of the men laughed. “I want nothing with your son.  No, it’s her I want.” He pointed at me.

I pushed Drifa behind me. “Inside, sweetie,” I whispered.

Sveinna took a step toward the woodpile, toward the axe that the men across the field would be unable to see from where they stood. “And what do you want with my wife?”

Inside I screamed.  Sveinna’s Norn?  Was this the time?  No.  Please, no.

“She is a witch that tells the future,” the man, the leader I supposed, raised his open hand toward me. “I would have her tell it for me.”

“I tell when the rain will come, or the frost; when is best to plant and when to harvest,” I said. “Nothing more.”

“No?” The man gestured and the other pressed the dagger up against Asbjorn’s throat. “I think you can tell much more.  Who lives.  Who dies.  What I must do to win battles.”

I shook my head.  I had never spoken of the Norn’s words to me, ever.  They frightened me.  They told of wars where more people died in a single day of battle than lived in all our village, in all the Northlands even.  Men would think me mad were I to tell such tales.  I spoke instead as I had said, of weather, of harvest, of planting.  No more than that. “I have never told more than those things.”

“But you can, can you not.  What you have told, and what you can tell, are not the same.”  He raised a hand. “Gefvaldr!”

The man holding the knife pressed it harder against Asbjorn’s throat.  A trickle of blood ran along the blade.

“Yes!” I cried. “I can.  Do not hurt him!  My son!”

The man lowered his hand.  The other, the one with the knife, removed it from Asbjorn’s throat.  I could not look away from the line of red on his throat from which blood dripped.

“You!” The man pointed at Sveinna who now stood next to the woodpile. “Move no further.” He raised a hand again and two of the men raised spears, poised to hurl at Sveinna.

“Sveinna, my husband, please,” I whispered.  I glanced at his Norn and turned my eyes from the look of glee on her face. “Anger them not.”

Sveinna stood straight, looked at me, and nodded.

“You will come with me,” the man said. “You will tell the future as I bid, when I bid.  And in turn, I will leave these others in peace.” His voice grew hard. “And if you do not, I will kill them all and take you anyway.”

I closed my eyes and bowed my head.  I had no choice.  I took one step toward the man, then another.  Numbly, I walked across the clearing to him.

“Hnaki, take her,” the man said.  One of his companions, Hnaki, grabbed me by the arms from behind.

The man who had been speaking all this time raised a hand and pointed at Sveinna.

“No!” I screamed, but I was too late.  The two men with poised spears hurled them.  One buried itself in Sveinna’s stomach, the other in his chest.  As I struggled in Hnaki’s arms, Sveinna sank to his knees.  His right hand stretched out toward the axe, grasped the handle, raised it.

I could not turn away.  Sveinna lifted the axe overhead, and then his hand opened.  The axe fell.  Sveinna tumbled to the cold ground.

“The girl is inside,” the man, the leader of these bandits, said. “Get her.  Then burn the place.”

“The Jarl will not let you live,” I said, still staring at Sveinna’s body.

The man laughed. “The Jarl?  He removed a bag from where it hung at his belt.  He opened it and reached inside.

At the sight of the Jarl’s head, I fainted.

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What can a spaewife do, when even the gods are against her and the future she foresees is full of horrors?

For years Katla Gudmarsdottir told no one of the things the Norns, controllers of fate, told her were coming. She shared forecastings of when to plant and when to harvest and other simple things, but not the dread visions the Norns gave her.

Now Ulfarr, the Foul one, has kidnapped her and holds her children hostage for her foretelling.

And alone, forsaken even by the Norns, Katla must save herself, her children and her people.


Blast from the Past: No Christianity is not the same as the Taliban or ISIS.

Updated version of a post I made several years ago.

I am not a Christian. I describe as an “Asatru leaning agnostic” or maybe “a practitioner, if not a believer, in Asatru”. Still, I’d I have to say that Christians make far better neighbors than many another group. Yeah, they have their bad apples but the comparison between Christians as a group, at least in the Western world, and Isis or the Taliban is beyond ridiculous. Part of that is simply a matter of civilization. People simply behave better in the civilized world than they do in the more barbaric regions. However Christians in the civilized world try to spread civilization. Groups like Isis and the Taliban try to spread barbarism. Apples and dark matter they have so little in common.

I have yet to meet a Christian who believes I must die for being asatruar (well, leaning that way anyway). They may try to convince me of their belief. They may be concerned for my immortal soul. But they do not say I should be killed for not believing in “the god of the book.” How have ISIS and the Taliban weighed in on that? Is, perhaps, the choice they offer Islam, Dhimmitude (for Christians and Jews–“people of the book”), or death?

The Crusades you say? Well, leave aside that the Crusades were quite a few centuries ago, you might want to look more deeply into the history behind them. It was a lot more complicated than simply wanting to kill the infidel in the name of Christianity.

As for folk like the abortion clinic murderers and the like that are often paraded about as examples of how “Christians are just as bad”, you might want to consider the religious leanings of the people who investigated those crimes, the people who caught the culprits, the people who tried them, the people who convicted them, and the people who punished them. Simple statistics suggests that the majority of them were some flavor of Christian.

How about ISIS or the Taliban? Same thing going on there? Violence in the name of their religion being punished by their religious peers? No?  Sure some other Islamic nations are fighting them but not because they’re attacking Christians or other Infidels, but because Isis and the Taliban are attacking these other Islamic nations for not being Islamic enough.  It’s not the crimes of ISIS and the Taliban they oppose.  It’s who their targets are. “You aren’t supposed to attack us!

Now, this is where some folk will scream about how racist I’m being and how I hate Muslims and…

First off, I never said “all Muslims”.  I called out specifically ISIS and the Taliban and I’d expand that to other extremist groups as well.  Some folk say that the problem is endemic to Islam, that the religion itself calls for that kind of extremism in its very principles and a read of its doctrinal documents combined with the doctrine of abrogation (that which came later–such as the more violent portions of the Quran written once Mohammed and his followers gained military power–supersedes that which was written earlier–the more peaceful and conciliatory passages written while they were few and powerless) would indicate that it is.  But even if so, that still does not mean “every Muslim.”  Just as there are Christians, many of them in fact, who do not follow every aspect of Christ’s teachings, so too will there be at least nominal Muslims who do not follow every aspect of Mohammed’s.

But even that does not make them equivalent.  People tend to be people–some peaceful, some not.  But ideologies are not all the same.  And its not the peaceful lambs who are drawn to groups like ISIS.

And so I wish people would stop with the false comparison.

On this July 4th

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.–Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

Blast from the Past: Wayland, örlogg, and Wyrd

I’m getting ready to leave for LibertyCon in Chattanooga tomorrow.  No time to write up a blog post (and don’t expect much until next week).  So here’s one of my older ones with a little updating with a few additional thoughts interspersed.

Wayland (Völund) the Smith.

Wayland is a character in Germanic and Norse myth.  He was a smith of remarkable, even magical, skill.  In one version of the story he and two brothers lived with three valkyries.  Some say they were wedded to the valkyries but that’s not particularly important to the story.  In other versions they were swan maidens, not valkyries.  That too, is not particularly important to the story.

After nine years the valkyries left, never to return.  Wayland’s two brothers left as well, hoping to find the valkyries and they, too, never returned. Wayland retained a ring left to him by “his” valkyrie.

Some time later, the king Niðhad discovered Wayland and lusted after the many fine things Wayland had made on his forge and captured and imprisoned him.  To prevent any possibility of Wayland’s escape, the king had Wayland hamstrung.  For those who don’t know, this involves cutting the two large hamstring tendons in the back of the knee (and remember that this would have been in the iron age where no anesthetic was available).  He would have had to heal from that with no pain killer other than alcohol and nothing but luck and a strong constitution to stave off infection (no germ theory of disease, let alone modern antisepsis and antibiotics).  The tendons themselves would never heal and a person thus hamstrung would be unable to walk properly forever more.

Thus crippled, Wayland was forced to forge for the king.  However, far from being helpless, Wayland plotted revenge.  Over the course of it he seduced (or raped in some versions) and impregnated the King’s daughter, killed his two sons, and made drinking vessels from their skulls, jewels from their eyes, and a brooch from their teeth.  He sent these items to the king and queen who used them without knowing their gruesome origin.  And, finally, he made his escape using wings he fashioned in his smithy.

To modern Western sensibilities this seems utterly horrid.  Revenge against the king himself is one thing, but taking it out on the children who were presumably innocent of the crime?  To modern Western mind’s that’s beyond the pale.

Some have argued that the starkness of Germanic literature is a reflection of the harshness of the climate from which the Germanic people sprang, but I am dubious.  If you dig into it you find equally reprehensible (by modern Western standards) behavior by Greek heroes and others from much more “pleasant” climes.  One could simply say that life was held cheaply in the past, and “corruption of blood” (later generations held accountable for the crimes of their forebears) and there’s more than a little truth to that.   But, again, I don’t think that truly explains the tale of Wayland.

I think one of the important lessons in the tale of Wayland is that of Wyrd, or “fate.” Wyrd, also rendered as “Urd” is the name of one of the Norns that dictate the fates of men and gods.

Back when I first started investigating Asatru (and make no mistake, I am still investigating it), one of the books I read talked about Wyrd.  Extrapolating that description (and it’s my own extrapolation—I’ve lost the particular book and can’t say if I’m accurately representing the views of the author or not) “fate” is not something declared into being by any Gods or Goddesses, not even the Norns, but simply revealed by them.  It’s not a case of “it is because they say it” but rather “they say it because it is.” Instead, what creates the “fate”, the Wyrd, is the weight of events and choices made up to the moment.  That “weight of events and choices” is termed örlogg (again, if I remember correctly).  You create your own örlogg by the choices you make over life.  But örlogg isn’t just defined by your choices, but by all the choices behind you, including those of your parents and their parents and so on to the dawn of time.  The closer to you and to your “now” the greater the effect, but all of it affects your Wyrd.

With that context, the tale of Wayland becomes a cautionary one.  When the king enslaved and mutilated Wayland he added heavily on the negative side to his örlogg—and to that of those close to him including his wife and his children.  Wayland’s revenge, then, becomes in part a working out of the Wyrd of that örlogg.  He represents here simply the uncaring forces of nature reflecting evil back on evil in a shower that falls on the guilty and innocent alike.

And so the cautionary tale becomes to be careful what you do and who you harm because the harm reflects not just back on you, but on those around you that you care about, not because any deity delights in harming the innocent but simply because that is what harm does.

If the Asatru idea of fate and the Norns interests you, you might like my story The Spaewife.

$2.99 in Kindle Store, Free to read on Kindle Unlimited

What can a spaewife do, when even the gods are against her and the future she foresees is full of horrors?

For years Katla Gudmarsdottir told no one of the things the Norns, controllers of fate, told her were coming. She shared forecastings of when to plant and when to harvest and other simple things, but not the dread visions the Norns gave her.

Now Ulfarr, the Foul one, has kidnapped her and holds her children hostage for her foretelling.

And alone, forsaken even by the Norns, Katla must save herself, her children and her people.

Productivity and the Economy.

Robots are going to put people wholesale out of work!

Been hearing that refrain much?

Or recently there was a post online that implied that Solar was better than Coal or Gas from the perspective of employing more people to produce the a given amount of energy:


If we switch from Coal and Gas to solar we’ll employ more people producing energy Ms. Kohn implies.


No, not yay.

Go back to basic, basic economics.  What does wealth actually consist of?  Is it money?  Can you eat money?  Can you drive money to work?  Ride it to a pleasant destination for a vacation?  Stay in money when you get there?  Watch money for entertainment?  Read money? (While there are some words on most money, I find it rather lacking in plot and character development.)

No, money is not wealth.  In the end it’s simply a scorekeeping system representative of goods and services.  The money isn’t wealth.  What you can buy with it is wealth.

And this is the basic principle:  the more goods and services that are available to you as an individual, the wealthier you are as an individual.  Likewise, the more goods and services available to a society the wealthier that society.

So to make a society richer, so that the individuals within it can be richer, you need to make more goods and services available.

Humans have been trying to do that–to produce more goods and services out of the finite amount of time and effort available from the sum total of people able to engage in that production since the first individual hooked up an ox rather than his brother to his plow.  Instead of one guiding and one pulling they now had two brothers each able to guide separate plows and since oxen can pull farther and longer than ones brother, each was able to put more land into cultivation.  So instead of a family barely being able to feed itself (if they were lucky) a family could feed a small community, a community of potters, of stonemasons, of glaziers and smiths, of artists and craftsmen of all forms.

This was the birth of civilization.

And it continued.  The widespread use of water mills in the middle ages replacing much that was done with muscle power before.  Steel mills with water powered triphammers forging iron products in a fraction of the time that hammers driven purely by a smith’s arm could accomplish.

Then came steam and the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution.  Early automation in the form of punch-card looms.

There have certainly been complaints about these new advances putting people out of work.  A movement supposedly started by an individual who was probably mythical “Ned Ludd” arose to object vociferously and violently to the use of automated looms.  However, the automation proceeded and far from putting people out of work the economic boom created jobs in wholesale lots.

Thus it has been with every major increase in productivity–in producing more goods and services with less human time and effort.  The changes, despite doomsday predictions, have invariably led to more goods and services being available, often goods and services that the people before the change could never even have imagined.  The societies have become wealthier.  And the people within them have become wealthier.

When changes happen quickly, there can be a period of disruption while things adjust.  And the change is not without pain.  But then, nothing worthwhile is without pain, whether it’s a skill acquired, improvement in ones physical condition, all the way up to a newborn baby.  Change and growth are painful.  But then, so are stagnation and death.  In the former case, the benefits more than outweigh the transitional pains.

This is why silly claims like “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer” can never be sufficiently mocked.  The “poor” of today have at their fingertips wealth that not even the wealthiest of a hundred years ago could have dreamed.  A cell phone.  A cheap, smartphone on a “prepaid minutes” plan–costing about one full day’s work at unskilled labor rates–giving the person who owns it access to more information than even existed a hundred years ago, by several orders of magnitude.

Or they can use it to watch videos of cats.

Productivity creates wealth.  And that benefits everybody.

Turning back the clock, requiring more human time and effort, to produce the same goods and service–including the energy required for the production of other goods and services–depletes wealth, makes everyone poorer, harms everybody.

You want to create jobs?  Don’t make energy more expensive in terms of the effort needed to generate it.  Look to how to use the cheaper energy available to us to create more goods and services.  That benefits everybody and not just those getting the “new jobs” at the expense of making things worse for everybody else in a decline that in the end will hurt them too.

Snippet from a Work in Progress

Currently titled “Study in Black and Red”.  Looks to be a short novelette, probably in the 8000 word range.

Leslie slid the key into the lock of his apartment door.  Karen, his girlfriend, not content to wait until they were within tickled the back of his neck.

Leslie pushed the door open and turned.  Karen melted into his arms and tilted her face up for Leslie’s kiss.

“It’s been a long day,” Leslie said as he broke the kiss. “Make yourself comfortable while I grab a quick shower.”

“Don’t take too long.”

While the apartment was in one of the less affluent districts of town it did have plenty of hot water.  A few minutes later Leslie stepped out of the shower and wrapped a robe around himself.

A cloud of vapor billowed out of the bathroom when Leslie opened the door.  He did not see Karen but did see the open door to his studio.

Despite the warmth of the humid air Leslie felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Not again.”

He crossed the hallway to the studio, his feet leaving wet footprints on the fake wood floor.  In the studio he saw Karen looking up at a painting, a big twenty-four by thirty-six piece.  Acrylic on canvas.

“Leslie, this is your best one yet,” Karen stood admiring the painting. “If a bit dark.”

The painting showed Philadelphia burning.  Thick black smoke blotted out the sky.  Tiny people ran, clearly screaming, in the streets beneath buildings engulfed in flame.

His work.  His painting.  Any inspection would show that.  From his signature in the lower right corner to the style.  Right down to the brush strokes.

The only problem was Leslie did not know where the painting had come from.  It had not been there when he had left for his date with Karen.  More than a dozen times he had found paintings in his studio, his paintings, but with no memory of having painted them.  He thought he had been sleep-painting or having some kind of fugue state.  But this one?  He had not even been home and here the painting was, a painting showing a terrible scene of fire and death.  But a painting that was clearly his work.

Where had it come from?

Getting my Daughter into Shooting Competition


Some time back when my daughter was on one of the local swim teams she came to me with a request.  She wanted to get a cartilage piercing in her ears.  She already had the typical lobe piercing.

I’m generally willing to allow her fashion choices so long as they aren’t too outre or cause permanent issues that she may end up regretting later.  This was something I was willing to allow but I wanted to make sure she was serious and, frankly, this was a good opportunity to get her to push beyond her “comfort zone”.  So I told her that she could do it if she qualified for Divisionals on the swim team for at least one event.  This requires meeting a qualifying time and was well within her capability if she pushed hard.

As things happened however, because of reasons beyond her control, swim team became an issue and she could not continue.  She, however, still wanted to get the cartilage piercing so I told her “find something else to make a good challenge.  Bring it to me and if I approve we’ll make that the challenge.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“That’s up to you,” I said. “Maybe it could be related to your art, maybe to your cello, maybe to your shooting (She’d started shooting seriously about September of last year), but you come up with something.  Coming up with something is part of the challenge.”

Okay, it didn’t quite go down like that.  There was more back and forth, but that was the essence.

So, yesterday she came back to me with the idea of getting into shooting competition, but she was having trouble finding something.

I was pleased enough by her choice that I decided to help her out.  I did some looking at my own using my Google-fu and… Wow.  that was confusing.  I’m big on rights but I’m only a moderate “gun geek” and know next to nothing about the competition side.  Fortunately, I had a resource she did not have:  I have a bunch of friends who are gun-guys on Facebook.  Plus, I’m a participant in several groups where a lot of gun guys hang out.  So I asked.

One of the issues is that right now budget is tight.  She’s welcome to use anything in my safe but most of it really isn’t suited to her size.  She’s got use of an AR pattern rifle with a 22LR upper at the moment (the adjustable stock lets her use it whereas mine, set up like the M-16 I trained on in the Air Force, has a stock a bit long for her) and I’ve got a couple of handguns she can handle.  But the only thing I have in 22LR is a cheap piece of junk I bought when I didn’t know any better.

I received several suggestions.  One was to attend an Appleseed event, which seems like a good idea if we can work the scheduling and find an event nearby.  Others included International Practical Pistol Confederation, Olympic style shooting, and others that looked to be rather expensive even at a beginning level.

One that was suggested, however, was rimfire steel challenge. That looked fairly straightforward, something a bit different from the slow-fire target shooting she’d been doing.  I found this video demonstrating it:

So I went looking for local clubs.  There isn’t one in my town.  The nearest is 35 miles away.  The nearest with a web site is 40 miles away.  However the regular range we go to is 60 miles away so that’s not a problem.  I’ve contacted them and asked what I need and how to get her started in it.

So, it’s a start.