Megan twirls the spindle, watching the yarn. She smiles a smile that is not a smile. She listens as the sounds of the men in the fields turns from friendly to fearful to frightful.
She twirls the spindle.
The Viking attackers run into the village, yelling and brandishing their shields, delighted at the success of their raid. They see Megan sitting on her stool and one of them nudges a tall, blond, braided man and points to her.
He starts walking to her, wondering why she didn't run away at the sound of the attack.
She twirls the spindle.
He grimaces, trying to frighten her, a fist pounding his broad chest.
She twirls the spindle.
He shrugs and leans over with a leer to grab her.
Megan drops the spindle.
From the folds of her dress she pulls a stout stick and clouts him with it. The audience loves this and laugh and cheer her. She leaps to her feet and starts beating the cowering man in front of her while his raiding companions laugh so hard they have to hold onto each other for support.
Really, she thinks as she curtseys to the applauding crowd when Bjorn lies at her feet, he should have looked up the Anglo Saxon meaning of her name. Megan: strong and capable.
YOU ARE READING
Twists in the Life of a Spinster
Short StoryAll is not what it seems in this tale of Viking/Anglo-Saxon lust and love... I wrote this story after being inspired by a photo of a young woman in Viking dress using a spindle. I wondered what it would like to be her. Here's the result. I hope you...
