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Authors: Katie Maxwell
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Iasked, my brain still sleepy and thus not much able to make sense of what he was saying.
"Me?" the Viking asked, pointing athimself in disbelief. "I would never do that! You are a goddess, and I am merely Finnvid, your devoted servant and the slayer of many hundred Huns."
"Then what is that doing in here?" I pointed to the ax. He looked a bit abashed.
"It… er… slipped. I was aiming atan usurper, and it went through your window rather than
cleaving his brain in two, as it was meant to do."
It was at that point I realized the sounds that had vaguely registered on my brain weren't from someone's portable TV or radio. I distinctly recognized Absinthe's brusque German voice as she
yelled orders.
"What the bullfrogs—" A woman's loud scream from nearby had me jumping out of bed and racing to the door. Davide and my mother were gone, which meant they had probably already
left to do their morning rituals to the god and goddess with their Wiccan friends. Since closing time wasn't until two in the morning, most of the GothFaire and Circus of theDarned people
didn't get up until after noon, but there were a few hardy folk up earlier. I figured it was about nine in the morning as I flung open the door to the trailer."Holy crap!"
The sight that met my eyes was not one I ever expected to see—only a handful of GothFairians
were up, but they were active… very active.Running around screaming with various Vikings
chasing after them.
"Is it?" The Viking ghost named Finnvid, who still stood by the open window, looked around, finally spotting a nearby pile of dog poop (probably made by Tallulah's pug, Wennie). "Ah. It looks like dog shite to me, but if it's holy, I will not rub someone's face in it."
The Faire was usually set up in the shape of a large U, with the big tent at the bottom, and two arms of vendor tents and booths. To the far side of one of the arms was what Mom
calledTrailerTown —where Faire and Darned people set up their trailers and RVs. In the center
of the vaguely circular arrangement of trailers were a couple of portable picnic tables and chairs, a small barbecue, and three folding chaise lounges that everyone used to work on their tans. The chaises weren't being used for suntanning now—one of them was acting as a trampoline for a
red-haired Viking, while another was tipped up on its end, the elastic plastic webbing being used by another Viking to catapult overly ripe peaches at Tallulah. She had taken refuge behind a
plastic picnic table, but every time she popped her head up to see if the coast was clear, the
Viking launched another peach at her. The trailer behind her was a slimy mess of gooey,
dripping peach blobs that slumped their way to the ground. Peter would be furious. He had
bought the peaches to feed his fruit addiction, and now they were smeared everywhere.
"What in the name of all that is good and glorious is going on here?" Mikaela emerged from the trailer next to ours, wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top. She held a bottle of water in one hand, and a candle and couple pieces of lavendar in the other.
"Brutta!"Finnvid shouted, and leaped past me to scoop her up.
Mikaela screamed and yelled for Ramon, her husband, while simultaneously beating Finnvid on
the head with her water bottle. Beyond her, Absinthe had somehow made it to the top of her
trailer, where she stood yelling what were no doubt rude things in German down to the three
Vikings trying to scale the trailer to get to her.
Ramon burst out of his trailer with one leg in his pants, hopping on one foot while he tried to get the other leg in, at the same time dodging peaches from the Viking at the catapult.
"Fran!"Absinthe shrieked, jumping up and down on the trailer as she pointed at me. "These ghosts are yours! Control them!"
"They're not mine—"I yelled back, pausing for a minute as Peter emerged from between trailers.
He walked backwards, a two-by-four in his hands to parry blows from a long,
"Me?" the Viking asked, pointing athimself in disbelief. "I would never do that! You are a goddess, and I am merely Finnvid, your devoted servant and the slayer of many hundred Huns."
"Then what is that doing in here?" I pointed to the ax. He looked a bit abashed.
"It… er… slipped. I was aiming atan usurper, and it went through your window rather than
cleaving his brain in two, as it was meant to do."
It was at that point I realized the sounds that had vaguely registered on my brain weren't from someone's portable TV or radio. I distinctly recognized Absinthe's brusque German voice as she
yelled orders.
"What the bullfrogs—" A woman's loud scream from nearby had me jumping out of bed and racing to the door. Davide and my mother were gone, which meant they had probably already
left to do their morning rituals to the god and goddess with their Wiccan friends. Since closing time wasn't until two in the morning, most of the GothFaire and Circus of theDarned people
didn't get up until after noon, but there were a few hardy folk up earlier. I figured it was about nine in the morning as I flung open the door to the trailer."Holy crap!"
The sight that met my eyes was not one I ever expected to see—only a handful of GothFairians
were up, but they were active… very active.Running around screaming with various Vikings
chasing after them.
"Is it?" The Viking ghost named Finnvid, who still stood by the open window, looked around, finally spotting a nearby pile of dog poop (probably made by Tallulah's pug, Wennie). "Ah. It looks like dog shite to me, but if it's holy, I will not rub someone's face in it."
The Faire was usually set up in the shape of a large U, with the big tent at the bottom, and two arms of vendor tents and booths. To the far side of one of the arms was what Mom
calledTrailerTown —where Faire and Darned people set up their trailers and RVs. In the center
of the vaguely circular arrangement of trailers were a couple of portable picnic tables and chairs, a small barbecue, and three folding chaise lounges that everyone used to work on their tans. The chaises weren't being used for suntanning now—one of them was acting as a trampoline for a
red-haired Viking, while another was tipped up on its end, the elastic plastic webbing being used by another Viking to catapult overly ripe peaches at Tallulah. She had taken refuge behind a
plastic picnic table, but every time she popped her head up to see if the coast was clear, the
Viking launched another peach at her. The trailer behind her was a slimy mess of gooey,
dripping peach blobs that slumped their way to the ground. Peter would be furious. He had
bought the peaches to feed his fruit addiction, and now they were smeared everywhere.
"What in the name of all that is good and glorious is going on here?" Mikaela emerged from the trailer next to ours, wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top. She held a bottle of water in one hand, and a candle and couple pieces of lavendar in the other.
"Brutta!"Finnvid shouted, and leaped past me to scoop her up.
Mikaela screamed and yelled for Ramon, her husband, while simultaneously beating Finnvid on
the head with her water bottle. Beyond her, Absinthe had somehow made it to the top of her
trailer, where she stood yelling what were no doubt rude things in German down to the three
Vikings trying to scale the trailer to get to her.
Ramon burst out of his trailer with one leg in his pants, hopping on one foot while he tried to get the other leg in, at the same time dodging peaches from the Viking at the catapult.
"Fran!"Absinthe shrieked, jumping up and down on the trailer as she pointed at me. "These ghosts are yours! Control them!"
"They're not mine—"I yelled back, pausing for a minute as Peter emerged from between trailers.
He walked backwards, a two-by-four in his hands to parry blows from a long,
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