It's a cold spring night in Sörmland and for the first time in more than a thousand years weapons are being sacrificed in Lady Lake. Car headlights shine brightly from the dark shore. Men's voices and dog barks echo faintly across the lake. The three in the rowboat first drop a sub-machine gun -- powder-scented bubbles rise to the surface and burst -- then another one, a hand gun, and a bag stuffed with cartridges and clothes. The lights begin to move along the shore as the brawniest of the men rows, fast and wordlessly, into the mist. The woods on the other side are barely visible against the eastern sky. The Goddess smiles, half in slumber.
The above is the first paragraph of a short story I published in print in 2002 and recently put on-line. It's about crime, Iron Age fertility deities and a re-union of teenage sweethearts. Read it here -- in Swedish.[More blog entries about fiction, crime, Sweden].