Stories From The Head

The Race Maroder had never won a race. Maybe because the race was cancelled every year. "Hey there! I want to participate in the race, Mr Kufas", he used to say. "The race is cancelled", replied Mr Kufas. Every damn year. But not this year. Not 1963. As he stood upon the platform designed to keep the Hassas warm, Maroder noticed a figure walking extremely slowly towards him. He had never seen him before, but he instinctively knew it was Burugle, Jillen’s boy. "Hallo der", Burugle said in a language Maroder couldn't understand. "Ka gjør du?". Maroder was fascinated by this language, which he found crude, but strangely beautiful. It had a saintly ring to it, and was more melodious than Maroder’s own language, Patur. "Tell me more", Maroder whispered to Burugle. "Det skal æ", Burugle answered, and they talked for hours. A radio broke its silence: "November 1963 - The winner of the uncancelled race is...Burugle"...

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