Monday, December 25, 2006

They Met With Wednesday

A raven cawed on the branch outside the cabin. It cawed again and a second raven landed next to it. They looked at the cabin curiously. A well-lit fire flickered inside the cabin. A man stood near the fire. He had a staff which looked as though it had seen many years and many times. He had a beard and one eye. He stared down into the fire, waiting.
A young man entered the house after doing his daily chores. He nodded at the old man with the aged staff and his long beard as he entered the chicken. He placed his machete on the table and turned on the facet. He washed his bloody hand. The old man looked over at the young man. The young man only had one hand. In the background a wolf howled. It was the howl of a wolf tethered and bound.
“Father, when will they come?” said the young man.
“They will come when it is time, Son,” the old man said. “The others come only when it is time and never before. That is how it is done.”
They waited in silence. The old man stood in front of the fire, watching it and the young man cleaned his machete. The ravens cawed out and the wolf howled.
Laughter rang out, disturbing the ravens. A muscular man knocked onto the cabin door. The man slung his heavy hammer onto his soldier. He was a rugged sort. He had a beard and was built like a wood-cutter or a carpenter. He was taller than the young and old men. The young man opened the door for him and the ravens settled back down on their branch, peeved.
The muscular man dropped his hammer in the corner of the room and helped himself to a mug of beer.
“I see that you’ve been doing well, Father,” the man said. The old man looked over at his muscular son.
“I have done as well as I can, Son. Even with Him gone, it is still a hard life. Time goes on and so must I.” The muscular man nodded and drank his beer. He sat down in a chair next to the young man.
They waited again.
A woman knocked on the door of the cabin. The ravens cawed out to her. She smiled at them. As the young man opened the door and she entered, she pulled off her hood to her brown cloak. She took it off and put it on the coat rack. She had a necklace on. The men stared at her. She was amused and her smile showed it. She sat down on the couch. The men looked at each other.
“You seem well, Sirs,” she said.
“The same with you, Miss,” the old man said. The muscular man offered her his mug of beer which she declined.
They waited until the time.
The old man thumped his staff on the floor and looked outside. He said, “It is time Sons and Miss. We must go to Him now.” The men and woman did not look particularly pleased. The muscular man drained his mug and put it on the table near the machete. The young man picked up his machete and walked over to the door. He helped the woman put on her cloak and the muscular man found his hammer. The young man was the first to walk through the door, which he held open for the other three. The old man was next, followed the muscular man and the woman.
They walked down a path that led into the deep forest, a different path than the muscular man and the woman came from. They passed a wolf that was tied up and secured. He glowered at them. The ravens followed the group. In the background, two extra wolves howled out. They also followed the group through the forest. They walked and walked until they reached a clearing. A great and tall stake stood and a man was chained to it. He was slumped on the ground. He was bitten and cut and raw and naked. He looked wild. The old man was the first into the clearing and the wild man looked up at him in anger.
“It will come, Brother. It will come,” the wild man said. The old man smiled grimly.
“This was not why we came, Brother. It is your day. We will not speak of your release now,” the old man said.
Besides the great stake and the wild man, there was a heptagram carved into the ground forever. It was a star with seven points and the stake was positioned at one of the points on the star. The young man walked up the point that was two points away from the wild man. The old man stood next to the young man and three points from the wild man. The muscular man stood next to the old man and the woman next to him and the wild man. Two points were missing people.
They waited.
The sun shown brightly. It was midday and the brightest it has ever been. It was not day, but light. It was the sun. The symbol of the sun re-carved itself on the point next to the wild man. It was a circle with a dot in the middle of it. The light began to fade. There was no sunset. They all waited.
It was darkness, a bright dot of silver shown through the blackness. It was the moon at its best. All one could see was the moon. A shaft of moonlight re-carved the symbol of the moon onto the last point on the star. It was in-between the sun symbol and the young man. The light began to fade. There was nothing. They waited.
The symbol of sun glowed. It was a light that was not quite light.
The symbol of the moon glowed. It was a light that was not quite light.
The young man took his machete and stabbed it through the ground at his place on the star. There was a light that was not quite light.
The old man took his staff and speared it down at his place on the star. There was a light that was not quite light.
The muscular man took his hammer and slammed it down at his place on the star. There was a sound of thunder and a light that was not quite light.
The woman took off her necklace and dropped at her place on the star. There was a light that was not quite light.
The wild man glowered but spit at his place on the star. There was a light that was not quite light.
The three men and the woman took back their possessions and the symbols began to fade. The wild man sat at his stake. The Week was made.
A/N: This was, to those unfamiliar, based around the fact that the weekdays were named because of the Norse gods. Tuesday: Tyr's Day, Wednesday: Odin's Day, Thursday: Thor's Day, Friday: Frejya's Day. Saturday is named after Saturn but it is sometimes refered to Loki's Day (but it isn't set in stone). Sunday is obviously Sun's Day and Monday is Moon's Day. I wasn't sure if I wanted to personify the Sun and Moon, but decided against it. I forget exactly where the heptagram came from. Oh well.
Ever since I read Gaiman's October in the Chair, I wanted to write a story about the weekdays. I wasn't actually going to write it like this, but having it as a creation story was formed instead. Of course this wasn't actually how the Norse created the week. I have no clue how they did so (otherwise I would tell you). The reason why it is called They Met With Wednesday is because Odin is the All-Father (in other words the patriarch of the Norse mythology or the Zeus, you could say).
I was listening my new CD that I got from my father today (for Christmas). It is Neil Gaiman ~ Where's Neil When You Need Him? Nice CD. I like it a lot and one of my favourite tracks is Even Gods Do, We Won't Go and Coraline by Rasputina. They sort of influenced me to write it like this. (And sorry, no real Christmas fiction... only this).

No comments: