Green Day’s “Peacemaker” is partially to blame with the inclusion of Mr. Molotov’s cocktail. The name is just too pleasant sounding (like “engine” and “cellar door”) to not include in a story about fire.
Title: Viking Funeral
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
Grandpa Johnathon’s a bad influence. That’s what my parents said. They sipped bitter wine and ate sweet grapes from a platter at Grandpa own funeral. Grandpa’s lakeside house must have been a bad influence too, because it was ravaged like a corpse by cousins and in-laws.
Grandpa always loved fishing— part of his Viking blood. Amidst the chaos and looting, I stole away Grandpa’s best hat and most beloved photos. I loaded them up onto his favourite fishing boat and set them on fire out in the link. Grandpa was the one who showed me to make the Molotov cocktail.
I wanted to include a scene in this story where the kid pushes the boat out of the dock while it’s still at the grandpa’s house and then lit it on fire, walking back and ignoring all of the rambling and blabbering that was flung his way.
It’s not like he lit the old man on fire, though! Just his most beloved stuff.
He should have thrown a spear into the water too, dedicating the funeral to Odin.
No, I didn’t just read American Gods in the space of about a week and a half and am now internalizing all of its greatness.
Not at all.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!