Blissful Ignorance

From a collection of 100-word stories & wonders

Isolated monks produce wondrous works in blissful ignorance of the coming Viking darkness. Image from the Lindisfarne Gospelsvia Wikimedia Commons.

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Visitors to the windswept isle told of the wondrous works of angels they’d seen in the monastery’s scriptorium. “Angels?” Brother Cuthbert sniffed. He’d broken three goose quills, his ink was thin, his new parchment hairy and in need of a good pumicing. “Thank God for clement weather,” he muttered, stretching his aching back. He hobbled outside. All winter, storms had besieged the land, but today the sea was mild, glassy. He squinted, gazed seaward: the distant ship, oars dipping, was long, lithe, prow-topped with a dragon’s head. He’d never seen its like before. Hmm. Pagan guests, ripe for conversion.

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