Góðan dag, mér datt í hug að senda inn sögu sem ég skáldaði fyrir rúmu ári síðan, hún er ekkert meistaraverk en nokk athyglisverð að margra mati.
Gerið svo vel! ‹Gefur frá sér vellíðunarstunu›
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The Great and Almighty Bergþór by Rastaman
For some reason, though he didnt know which one it was, he particularly often felt sleepy.
Those cold and wet days felt lonely.
But he didnt know that he wasnt the only one in the world..
.... Once many years ago.. he lived with his family up on a hill located in Wales. They lived all by them selves far away from anyone else. They were 5 in that family; a mother, father, and 3 children. He was the oldest one. Then suddenly, after a long and good sleep, he woke up in no mans land, there was not a soul in sight and no marks made by men. “I am still asleep, what a great dream I am having” he thought. But he wasnt asleep. He walked miles and miles north, and after 5 days of walking and sleeping, he saw a house in the fog. He ran and ran, as quick as he ever could. He saw that the house was an abandoned one. He got in to the house, and all he found was a colouring book made by his brother, Andy. The book was open on the floor and he bent down to pick the book up. He took a close look at the picture, it showed 4 persons, 2 grown up and 2 little ones. He realized that he was missing on this picture.
Later that day when he was walking he sat down to rest and looked at the picture, he saw that one of the little kids was crying but he didnt think much of it.
- Up in the mountains, Bergþór was running down the hill, jumping and running down. He looked like he was in a really good mood. Soon, when he had run down the hill, he saw a person walking in the fog. He decided to run towards him.
He heard some weird noise, as if someone was yelling of happiness, he turned around and saw a man of size 1.94m or so, and he was running towards him.
“Hello there.” The tall human said.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I´m just killing time.”
“I just ran down that hill over there.” The tall man pointed into the fog, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Okay.”
“What is your name?”
“Freund.”
“Hi Freund, I´m Bergþór.”
“Hello,” Freund said, and wondered what an weird name that was.
“You wanna see my kitchen roosters?” Bergþór asked.
“What? Why?”
“It is marvelous.”
“Okay.”
Bergþór started walking, and he whispered something to himself. Freund thought this person, Bergþór was a little weird, and maybe a little slow, but not boring like some people who seem to be slow.
After a while, Freund could see a cave in the mountain.
They got in, and what a frightening but happy seight that was. The floor had nothing but roosters, all talking to each other in that weird language they had. That man, Bergþór looked weird but who would have expected an apartment in a cave with hundreds of roosters on the floor.
At first, he couldn’t stand the noise made by the roosters, but after a week, he was getting used to this, and even felt he was beginning to understand a little in that language, but that must have been some thoughts breaking out because of the loneliness he had been living in.
-Nine months(later)-
26th of Earthember –13978. Diary Freund Freund Kellner
I woke up too much early this morning. It wasn´t even schunrise yet. I have solved the mistery. At first I didn´t belive it, but now I have come to a conclusion. I am not dead, but I slept for an awfully long time. I was born in 1978, but now it is –13978. I don´t know how this happened, but it is very extraordinary. The culture has changed very much. Bergþór lives in a cave, and for nine months I have lived with him. He has ordinary furniture, but no electricity and he has never heard of a TV or a computer, or anything like that. He lives líka person like me, but without the electricity. And he trains roosters and they are like his family. When I asked him about his parents or a family, he told me he sort of woke up 4 years ago, but he said it was as if he just changed bodies or something. He can´t remember anything else. He is a little bit weird, but an hilarious and a imaginative friend. I happen to like living like this, with Bergþór and the roosters.
The Roosters.
In a million years, I really can´t think of a reason why I understand them and they me, but this is certainly a fact. Bergþór said he thinks that the reason for their understanding of human language is because the roosters are extremely intelligent, and belive me, they are, but that can´t be the reason for why they understand us.The roosters are nice, but one of them is a little bit cocky and naïve, and we punish him when he gets it on with another rooster for fun. We leave him outside the cave, hanging upside down from a stick and we tie his wings, we let him stay there for as long as needed, or when he apologises and promises to stop getting it on. But he never keeps his promises and he thinks he´s a tough bastard, but hell no he is not.
Segðu NEi við fíkniefnadjöflinum.
Það skemmtilega við fíkniefnadjöfulinn er að maður veit nákvæmlega hvernig hann lítur út þökk sé auglýsingunum frá Þjóðfélagsátaki Svavars Sigurðssonar. Grænn á litinn og með risastóra pípu ef ég man rétt. Hef reyndar ekki séð hann ennþá en hann hlýtur að vera hérna einhvers sstaðar.
Nú veit ég hvernig rithöfundur sá sem ekki má nefna hér væri. ‹Fyrsti stafurinn er T›
Sælinú, mig langar að benda á að ég nota engin eiturlyf, og hef aldrei verið viðriðinn slíkan sora, ef svo mætti segja. Ég viðurkenni fúslega að ég hef notað vímuefni eins og áfengi en notkun mín á búsinu er sannarlega ekki svo mikil að hún hafi áhrif á skrif mín.
Ég geri mér grein fyrir því að þessi skrif mín eru eilítið "súr" en er það mikið verra? ‹Brestur í óstöðvandi grát›
Sælinú, mig langar að benda á að ég nota engin eiturlyf, og hef aldrei verið viðriðinn slíkan sora, ef svo mætti segja. Ég viðurkenni fúslega að ég hef notað vímuefni eins og áfengi en notkun mín á búsinu er sannarlega ekki svo mikil að hún hafi áhrif á skrif mín.
Ég geri mér grein fyrir því að þessi skrif mín eru eilítið "súr" en er það mikið verra? ‹Brestur í óstöðvandi grát›
-uhmmm.. Með ákveðnu hugarfari má segja að þessi saga sé fjörleg, þrungin skemmtilegum tímaskilningi og byggð á sjaldgæfu hugmyndaríki.
Ég vil hrósa höfundi sögu þessarar furi að sýna hina blíðu og gáfuðu hlið á hönum sem alltof sjaldan er tekin fyrir af fjölmiðlum. Bravó, bravó bravó. ‹Stekkur hæð sína tvisvar og rúllar sér í heyböggunum›
‹Sendir Dömuna á Blue Oyster Club...þar sem "hún" á heima...›