Creative Writing: Farenheit 451

Orientation- The stench of rotting flesh irritates my nostrils as thick, warm blood oozes down my arm, leading to the glistening steel blade grasped tightly in my hand. I glance down at my feet, one of the many monks lay dead. A squat man, robed in a neat, brown tunic, his chest leaking with blood. I had pursued him, grasping the leather wrapped hilt of my sword, I penetrated his heart. The distant screams of the women and children echoes through the still air, occasionally swallowed by the old Norse battle cries of the Scandinavian men. Lined along grey sand, sit a fleet of well-crafted and mammoth sized longboats, all bearing the same torn red flags. Each longboat has an animal’s head carved, with precision, into the prow of the boat. Huge men streaking back and forth, up the hill and into the monastery, then racing back to their ships, their arms full of crates containing treasures and jewels that we Scandinavians have praised through the ages. Pride overran my body, as I watch over our success.
***

As I draw closer to the village, the appetizing scent of baking bread waters my mouth. Wooden buildings line the unkept path, curling grey smoke escaping the stone chimneys. I gaze down the path with admiration, at the end of the village were many beastlike longboats tied to the docks. Though one attracts my eye, the Osprey. It’s monstrous flag swaying lazily in the wind, and the menacing eagle shaped head carved into the prow with perfection. My body fills with excitement, this is the longboat I have been assigned to. A thundering horn booms through the air, coming from the docks. Quickly, my leisurely walk becomes a steady