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This is a small personal blog displaying many pieces of my fiction and non-fiction material that I have written in the past and during my studies at Univerisy of Huddersfield from which I have no graduated with a 2.1 Mark in BA Hons in English Studies with Creative Writing. Here you will also find updates on my writing explorations, trial of errors and any other creative events that occur in my life. I have already had some small sucess in my writing life in that a short story I wrote based in Norse Mytholoy and set in York got particular note and attention from none other than Joanne Harris upon her website release of the results of a Fan Fiction Competition she ran earlier this year.


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The Cursed Ring Saga - Poem

Author: valkyrie (add to friends)

One day the Gods went hunting.
Loki slew an otter with a sling.
A farmer came a yelling.
“That’s my son you’re about to skin.”

Odin asked what could be done.
“Cover his fur with gold from tail to tongue.”
The farmer asked in payment for his son.
So the Gods searched for gold all day long.

A pile was made from what they had borrowed and sold.
Yet they needed one more small piece of gold.
Loki ran far away and begged and pleaded,
A dwarf for a gold ring he had just completed.

“This ring bears a curse.” The dwarf told Loki.
“To wear it makes you greedy and unlucky.”
Loki took the ring besides,
And managed to cover the last piece of hide.

After the Gods had paid and gone.
The farmer split the gold between his last two sons.
The youngest got coins, the eldest jewels and the ring.
And so my most cursed and tragic tale begins.

The eldest was called Fafnir who became greedy and scary.
He told his younger brother; in a well he saw a fairy.
So when his brother went to look into this.=
With a quick push and a shove all the gold became his.

The next victim was father, already in despair.
For he had now lost two sons, what a terrible scare.
Murdered in his sleep he was, oh what a fright.
Now Fafnir had everything including birth right.

Still clutching the ring Fafnir stole away,
Dragging all his gold into a cave, avoiding the day.
His greed began to churn deep inside,
Turning him in to a dragon, with a jet black hide.

Many years passed as Fafnir slept upon his gold.
Until one day a man rode in, both strong and bold.
“I slay you in honour of the King.” He cried.
And so the fight began. The man won and it was Fafnir who died.

The next part of my story is of heartache and woe.
Yet if you still truly wish to listen and to know.
Return to this spot by the fire when the moon is round.
And I shall continue my tale of great treasures lost and found.

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