“Tell me, Grandmother, of the time you saw the Valkyries.”

“Are you sure? It’s a scary story.”

“I’m very brave.”

“Your mother will blame me if you have nightmares.”

“We don’t have to tell her you told me.”

“You’re determined, aren’t you? So was I at your age. I wasn’t much older than you, dear Ragnar, when I heard of an upcoming battle a day’s walk away. As much as I recognized the important work that the women of the village did, it wasn’t the life for me. I wanted to fight like my brothers, for glory and for death. I was foolish then, young and brash and ready to prove myself, so I stole my father’s sword and armor and made my way there by foot.

“My mother must have been beside herself with my foolishness, but I had bloodlust in my veins and dreams of Valhalla in my heart. I would prove myself or die trying. But in my haste, I forgot three essential items: food, water, and a map. The food and water could be found, but without a map, I became horribly lost in the woods as night fell.

“So, I found a place near water and scavenged for food. As I sat there, trying and failing to create a spark to ignite my fire while wolves howled in the distance, I realized just how foolish this whole endeavor was. But I was stubborn and swore that I would not come home empty handed.

“At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke, the moon was high in the twinkling night sky. The sound of soft footfalls padded across the forest floor. I sat up, and that’s when I saw them. Three women whose otherworldly beauty was sharp like the edge of a sword. They moved with an eerie grace, gliding into a hut that certainly wasn’t there before. I knew these women to be the Valkyries sent to collect the souls of those who would die in battle the next day. Curiosity got the better of me and I followed them.

“A warm light emanated from the hut as I circled it, searching for a place where I might get a good view of those beautiful women. Finally, I found a crack in the wall large enough to peer through. What I saw has never left me.

“The three women sat at a most peculiar loom and wove a tapestry of suffering. Men’s heads acted as counterweights while entrails made up the warp and weft. A sword was its shuttle and arrows were its reels. They sang a song of mourning and lamentation as they worked. And then one seemed to sense my eyes on them, for she turned around and caught my gaze.

“She glowered and said, ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’ And I’m not ashamed to admit that I ran all the way home to my mother and to the women’s work, all my bloody dreams of Valhalla forgotten.”

[Kay Hanifen was born on a Friday the 13th and once lived for three months in a haunted castle. So, obviously, she had to become a horror writer. Her work has appeared in over 150 anthologies and magazines. Her first anthology as an editor, Till the Yule Log Burns Out, was published in 2024. Her first novel, The Last Ballard, debuted in 2025. When she’s not consuming pop culture with the voraciousness of a vampire at a 24-hour blood bank, you can usually find her with her black cats or at kayhanifenauthor.wordpress.com. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/katharinehanifen/]