White lilies fading into dust on a stained windowsill, crumbling as the sun sets behind the pallid mountains. The night's wispy fingers stretch out from the clouds, reaching out, out, out for the last thread of day. A boat drifts by on the dead river, floating out to sea, carrying an honorable Viking almost there but then oh no a hole, a crack, splintering wide, water seeping in liquid fingers stretch out from underneath reaching out, out, out for the last thread of life but life is gone dead dead the Viking is dead.