Norwegian Sketches; 8
You. Would. Invite. You to join us for what we do is. You've music on commentary from materials by Broadcasting Corporation featured on this program works by the writer comes first music selection by John Boehner. Google performed by the Norwegian broadcasting Orchestra under the direction of or even. In. Her.
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To. The end. In a year. Or. A. Piece on. The Norwegian broadcasting orchestra performing go vote by vote
last week on this program. You heard Professor James McFarland talk about the writer note Homs today. Pat Shaw each person reads two of his work. SPECTER And Johnston ordinary fly of average size a spectre. I spent several years of my childhood with my uncle at the parsonage in Nordland. It was a difficult period for me. Lots of work lots of beatings and seldom if ever a time for play and amusement as strict as my uncle was with me. It gradually became my only solace to slip away and be by myself. If on a rare occasion I had a leisure hour. I would then make my way to the woods or I would go up to the graveyard and wander about among crosses and slabs dreaming thinking and talking aloud to myself. The Parsonage was beautifully situated right on
the glimmer a broad and boulder field maelstrom from which the roar echoed. Night and day night and day I wanna hear the church in the graveyard. I knew each grave and each inscription and I witness that crosses which were set up as new as time wore on began to lean and at last one stormy night toppled over. But if there were no flowers on the graves then during the summer there was a wealth of grass all over the graveyard. It was very high and very rough and I sat there often and listen to the wind that whistled through this terribly coarse grass that reached all the way up to my waist. And then in the midst of this whistling the weather vane on the church steeple could swing around and the sound of rusty iron rang out complainingly all over the parsonage. It was as if this piece of iron were grinding its teeth against some of the iron many a time when the grave digger was at work I had a chat with him. He was a serious man and seldom smiled but he was very
kind to me. And when he stood throwing mode up from the grave he could often warn me that now I had to move out of the way. Now he had a big thighbone on the spade or the grinning skull of one dead. On the graves. I often found little bones and wisps of hair from dead bodies which I then put down in the ground again the way the grave digger had taught me. I was so used to this that I had no uneasy feelings on coming across these human remains under one end of the church. There was a bone house where heaps of bones were lying about and in this cellar I sat for many a while whittling on something or arranging different figures on the floor with the crumbling bones. But one day in the graveyard I found a tooth. It was a front tooth shining white and strong without examining it more closely. I pocket the tooth. I was going to use it for something. Reshape it into some figures or other and set it into
one of the many curious things which I whittled out of the wood. I took the tooth home with me. It was autumn and dark early. I had a number of other things to finish first and perhaps a couple of hours went by before I proceeded over to the servants hall to work on a tooth. In the meantime the moon came up. It was the half moon. There was no light in the servants hall and I was all alone. I did not light the lamp straight away before the farmhands came in but I could make do with the light from the mantle in the stove. Once I got the fire going so I went out into the shed to fetch wood. The shed was dark. As I'm fumbling about for the wood I feel a light blow like that of a single finger on my head. I quickly turned around and saw no one. I thrashed my arms but felt no one. I asked if anyone were there but received no reply. I was bareheaded. I made a grab up at the spot on my head that had been touched and against my hand I felt something icy cold which I
released at once. Now this was queer I thought again. I felt up at my hair. Now the coldness was gone. I thought. I wonder what that cold thing was it fell down from the ceiling and hit me in the head. I took an armful of wood and went back into the servants hall made a fire and waited until the light began to shine from the vent hole. Now I took out the tooth in the file. Then there was a knock at the window. I looked up outside the window with his face flattened against the pain stood a man. He was a stranger to me. I didn't recognize him and after all I knew the whole parish. He had a full red beard a red flannel cloth around his neck and this I was on his head. What I didn't think of at the time but which later crossed my mind. How could this head appear so clearly to me in the darkness. What's more from a side of the house we're not even the half moon shone. I saw the face with terrifying clarity. It
was pale almost white and its eyes were staring straight at me. A minute goes by. Then the man begins to laugh. It was no audible quaking Laughter. But the mouth opened wide and the eyes continued to stare at me as before. But the man laughed. I dropped what I had in my hands and a chill ran up and down my spine. In that tremendous gap in the laughing face outside the pain I suddenly see a black hole in the road. Teeth one tooth was missing. I sat and stared straight ahead with fear again. A minute goes by the face began to take on colors. It turned a vivid green after which it turned a bright red but the smile continued to remain motionless. I was not insensible. I was aware of everything around me. The fire shone rather brightly out through the vent holes of the stove and cast a tiny glow all the way over on the other wall where there was a
stairway. From the inner chamber. I also heard that a clock was ticking on the wall. I could see everything so clearly that I even noticed the way to South West to which the man outside the window had on was of a black shadow color in the crown but that it had a green stained brim. Then the man lowered his head down along the pain quite slowly down further down and was at last below the window. It was as if he had slid down in the ground. I saw him no more. My fright was dreadful. I also started to tremble. I searched on the floor to find the truth but at the same time I dared not take my eyes from the window in case the face should come back when I had found the tooth. I would have taken it back to the graveyard at once but I didn't dare. I still sat alone and was unable to move. I hear footsteps out in the yard and think it is one of the girls who comes clattering along in her wooden
shoes. But I dared not call out to her and the footsteps went past an eternity passes the fire begins to burn out in the stove and no salvation appears for me. Then I clench my teeth and get up. I open the door and back out of the servants hall constantly looking back at the window where the man had stood when I had come out in the yard. I took to my heels over toward the store where I wanted to get one of the boys to go over to the graveyard with me. But the boys weren't in the stall. In the meantime I had grown bolder now under open sky and I made up my mind to go up to the graveyard alone. By so doing I would also avoid having to confide in anyone and perhaps later coming into my uncle's clutches over the business. So I went alone up the hill then I carried the tooth in my handkerchief up by the portal to the graveyard. I stopped my courage refused to stand by me any
longer. I hear the eternal roaring of the glimmer. Otherwise all is still. There was no gate in the portal to the graveyard only an arch to go through. I go and stand fearfully on one side of this arch and stick my head carefully through the opening to see if I did proceed any further. Then my knees give way beneath me. A little way inside the portal in between the graves stood my man with the same Wister again. Once more he had that white face and he turned it toward me. But at the same time he pointed a head farther on up the graveyard. I took this for an order but I did not go. I lay there quite a long time and looked at the men. I prayed to him and he stood motionless and silent. Then something happened which renewed my courage a little. I heard one of one of the farmhands pottering about with something and whistling down by the stall this sign of life around me made me get
up. Little by little the man began to withdraw. He didn't walk but glided away over the graves constantly pointing ahead. I stepped inside the portal. The man coaxed me on. I walked a few steps and stopped. I was at the end of my tether with a trembling hand. I took the white tooth out of the handkerchief and threw it with all my might into the graveyard. At that moment the iron veins swung around on the church steeple and its heart rending shriek pierced me to my marrow. I flew out of the portal down the hill and home. When I came into the kitchen they said that my face was as white as snow. That was many years ago but I remember everything. I can still see myself down on my knees by the portal to the graveyard and I can see the red bearded man. I can't even give an approximate estimate of his age. He could be twenty years old. He could also be forty. As this wasn't to be the last time I was to see him.
This question also crossed my mind later. But even now I still don't know what I should say about his age. Many an evening and many a night. The man came back. He appeared laughed with his enormous gap which lacked a tooth and vanished. Snow had fallen. I could no longer go up to the graveyard and put the tooth in the ground and the men continued to come but at longer and longer intervals the whole winter my harrowing fear of him abated but he made my days grievously miserable. Yes miserable to access. Many a time in those days it gave me small pleasure to think that I could put an end to my torment by throwing myself in the gloom at high tide. Then spring came and the man disappeared altogether altogether. No not altogether but for the whole summer the following winter he showed up again. He showed up only once. Then he was gone for a long
time. Three years after my first encounter with him I left Norland and stayed away for a year. When I came back again I had been confirmed and as I thought myself had become a big and grown up person then I no longer came to live with my uncle at the parsonage but at home with my father and mother. One evening in the autumn just as I had lain down to sleep. A cold hand placed itself upon my forehead I opened my eyes and found the man before me. He was sitting on my bed and looking at me. I didn't sleep alone in the room but with two of my brothers and yet I didn't want either of them when I felt the cold pressure on my forehead. I flung up my hand and said No go away. Then my brothers asked from their beds who I was talking to when the man had been sitting still for a while he began rocking back and forth with the upper part of his body while this was going on. He increased in height at last he was
swinging almost all the way up to the ceiling. And when it appeared that he couldn't come any further he stood up walked with soundless steps away from my bed across the floor and over to the stove where he disappeared. I followed him the whole time with my eyes. He had never been so close to me as he had been. I looked right in his face. His gaze was empty and extinguished. He looked toward me but as it passed me straight through me far out to another world. I noticed that he had gray eyes. He didn't move his face and he didn't laugh. When I shoved his hand away from my forehead and said No go away. He slowly took back his hand. All these minutes while he was sitting on my bed he didn't bat an eyelash. Several months later when it had become winter and I had once again left home I was with the merchant for a while who I helped in the shop in the office. Here I was to encounter my
man for the last time. One evening I go up to my room light the lamp and take off my clothes as usual. I'm going to put out my shoes for the girl and so I take the shoes in my hand and open the door. Then standing in the hole right in front of me is that red bearded man. I know there are people in the next room so I am not afraid. I mumble aloud. Are you here again shortly afterward. The man opened his big mouth and started to laugh. This no longer made a terrifying impression on me but this time I was more attentive. The missing tooth had been recovered. Perhaps it had been put down in the ground by someone or during the years it had managed to motorway crumbled into dust and unite with the rest of the dust from which it had been separated. Lord knows the man shut his mouth while I was still standing in the doorway. Turned around and went down the stairs where he disappeared far down. I have never seen him since. And now many a long year has passed. This man
this red bearded messenger from the land of the dead has with all the indescribable horror he brought into my childhood caused me a lot of grief. I have had more than one apparition Since then more than one singular clash with the inexplicable. But nothing has affected me as strongly as this and yet perhaps he hasn't only done me harm. This has often occurred to me. I can well believe that he was one of the first reasons for my learning to grit my teeth and keep a stiff upper lip. In my later years this has come in handy now and then. Just an ordinary fly of average size. Our acquaintanceship began with her flying in through my open window one day as I sat writing and starting a dance around my head. She clearly felt attracted by the spirits in my hair. I struck at her again and again but she took no notice of that.
It was then that I took the paper scissors. I have this pair of scissors. It's so nice and big. I use it for a pipe bowl scraper and as a pair of tongs I also pound nails into the walls with it in my practiced hand. It is a terrifying weapon. I swung it in the air a few times and the fly flew away. But soon after she came back and started the same dance I got up and moved my table to the door. The fly came after. I'll play one more trick on you I thought and I quietly went over and watched the spirits out of my hair. It helped the fly sat quite crestfallen on my lap globe and didn't budge. Everything went well for a long while I went on working and got a lot done. But in the long run it became a little monotonous always meeting that fly every time I raised my eyes. I regarded her. It was just an ordinary fly of average size well-built with Gray wings
move a little. I said she didn't move. Begone I said and waved at her. Then she flew up took a turn around in the room and came back again to the left globe. Our acquaintanceship proper dates from this time on I gained respect for her steadfastness. Whatever she wanted to do she would do it. I was also touched by her expression. She leaned her head on one side and gave me a sorrowful look. Our feelings became mutual. She understood that I had taken a liking to her and adapted herself accordingly. She became more and more familiar in her conduct. Already that afternoon when I was going out she flew ahead of me to the door and tried to prevent it. The next day I was up at a reasonable hour just as I was going in from breakfast to start working. I met the fly in the doorway. I nodded to her. She buzzed around in the room a few times and settled on my
chair. I hadn't escorted her to a seat and I needed the chair. Begone I said. She rose a few inches in the air and settled down again on the chair. Then I said Now I am going to sit down. I sat down. The fly flew up and took a seat on my paper. Begone I said. No reply. I blew on her. She braced her legs and wouldn't go away. No without mutual respect for one another. This will never do in the long run I said. She listened to me and thought it over but decided to remain seated. All the same. Then I swung the paper scissors again. The window was open. I hadn't taken that into account and the fly flew out. She was out for a couple of hours the whole time. I went about repenting that I had let her out on her own. Where was she now. Who knows what could have happened to her. I finally sat down and was about to start working again. But I was full of misgivings.
Then the fly came back. She had gotten something nasty on one of her hind legs. You've been out in the filthy beast. I said bye. But all the same I was glad that she had come back. And I shut the window tightly. How can you take such trips. I said. Then she looked as if she were gloating at me and saying bah because she had taken this trip. I had never seen a fly flyblown like that before I was infected by her. I said Bob too and laughed heartily haha. Have you ever seen such an EMP of a fly. I said come here and I'll chuck you under the chin a bit. The vixen that you are. In the evening she was up to her old tricks and wanted to obstruct the doorway for me. I plucked up courage and used my authority. It was well and good that she was fond of me but keep me home every evening. She wasn't capable of that. And I forced my way past her. I heard how furious she was inside and I shouted into her. Well there you can see for yourself how good it is to be alone.
Farewell. Now you can sit there in the succeeding days that good for nothing little fly severely tried my patience. If people came to see me she became jealous and drove them out with her disagreeableness. Afterwards when I reprimanded her for her behavior and wanted to take her to task a bit she made a breakneck swing from the floor and right up under the ceiling where she sat fast and made me dizzy. You fall down. I shrieked at it. But my warnings were to no avail. Very well then just keep sitting up there I said and turned my back on her. Then she came down again. Yes indeed. It never failed. If I took no more notice of her she would swing right past my nose and fall with a smack down on my manuscript. Here she began to stroll about as if I didn't own a pair of scissors in the House continue to use kindness I thought and I said amicably. Don't walk then mess yourself up with ink. I only have your best interests at heart. She was
deaf to my words. Haven't I said you not to walk on that paper I repeated. It's Cross paper scratch paper you can get splinters in your feet. Alas no. She didn't appear to be afraid of that. Have you ever heard of such pigheadedness. I shrieked exasperated. Doesn't the paper have splinters. No indeed. It didn't strike her as having sprinter's at all. Then go to hell on it I replied. I'll take another paper but when I took another sheet of paper she went away. Days and weeks went by we grew accustomed to each other work together on different sheets of paper shared joys and sorrow her caprices were uncountable. But I put up with them. She had explicitly made known to me her aversion to draps and I kept windows and doors shut for her sake. Nevertheless the idea often occurred to her to fling herself down from the ceiling and make a beeline for the window pane in order to shatter it. If you have an errand outside and come this way I said and I opened the door for her. Oh no
she let on as if she didn't want to go out. Will you or won't you go out. I asked. One two three. No reply so I angrily slammed the door shut. I would soon come to repent my hot headedness. One day the fly stayed away. She had seized the opportunity when the girl came in the room and popped out the door. I understood that this was her revenge and I pondered a long time over what I should do. Then I went out in the yard and shouted. By all means she was quite free to stay away. I didn't miss her. It was no use I wasn't able to lure her out and I missed the fly. I opened everything that could be opened in my house and placed my manuscript over in the window exposed to wind and weather. She was to see that nothing was too good for her to walk on. I asked my landlady about the fly once more. I poured lots of spirits in my hair and coaxed her and called in my best friend and my court fly to and Noble her all in vain.
Finally the morning of the following day she came back. She didn't come alone. She brought along with her a lover from the streets in my joy at seeing her again. I forgave her everything and for a time even made allowances for her sweetheart. But enough is enough. There are certain limits. First they started making eyes at each other and rubbing their legs up and down. Suddenly the lover threw himself upon her in a manner that caused me to blush. What are you doing in plain sight of everybody I said taking them to task. Ha. Nowadays one needn't be big either if one gives oneself as she took offence at this. She tossed her head and clearly gave me to understand that I must be jealous. Me jealous I snorted. Jealous of that one there. Well I like that. But she gave yet another toss of her head and repeated her assertion. It was then that I got up and uttered the following words with you I am not going to quarrel it is against my feelings of chivalry but dispatch your wretched love to me him. I will face and I seized the paper scissors.
Now they began to mock me. They sat on the corner of the table and laughed so they shook it and seemed to say haha. Haven't you got a bigger pair of scissors a little bigger a pair of scissors. I'll show you that it's not the weapon that counts I replied. I'll face the fellow with a puny ruler in my hand. And I swung the ruler. They laughed even more and displayed their contempt in the most obvious manner. What are you starting all over again. I said threateningly but they took no notice of me. It didn't occur to them that the moment was fateful. They approached each other with shameless buzzing and were just about to embrace again. You'll do nothing of the kind. I shrieked at them but they did it. Then my forbearance was at an end. I raised the ruler and let it fall like a bolt of lightning. Something was broken. Something lay scattered about my well-aimed blow had struck them both lifeless to the ground. Thus ended this acquaintanceship. It was just an ordinary little fly with Gray wings and there wasn't anything more
about her but she provided me with many a delightful hour as long as she lived. Pat Shaw Everson reading two works by Kloot Hum's and Spectre and just an ordinary fly of average size including this program of Norwegian sketches. The programme was prepared at the University of Michigan by Marianne Woodsen technical supervision by Oliver. This is great. To forget. This is NPR national educational radio network
- Norwegian Sketches
- Episode Number
- Producing Organization
- University of Michigan
- Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation
- Contributing Organization
- University of Maryland (College Park, Maryland)
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- Series Description
- Norwegian Sketches is a National Educational Radio Network program prepared by the University of Michigan . Each episode features a unique selection of music and commentary from the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation. Musical selections are performed by the Norwegian Broadcasting Orchestra, and commentaries include documentaries, lectures, and readings from Radio Norway.
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Host: Hindley, Fred
Producing Organization: University of Michigan
Producing Organization: Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation
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University of Maryland
Identifier: 69-27-8 (National Association of Educational Broadcasters)
Format: 1/4 inch audio tape
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- MLA: “Norwegian Sketches; 8.” University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Web. May 29, 2023. <http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-pc2t8m7r>.
- APA: Norwegian Sketches; 8. Boston, MA: University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Retrieved from http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-pc2t8m7r