The Ragnarok diaries

Chapter 1 - A beginning

Dear Diary,

Wow, those are words I haven't typed for about 20 years, when I outgrew my 12 year old obsession with documenting my every moment. So, why now? Why the need to write this?

Maybe it's because it might give me a way to actually understand and come to grips with what has happened over the last few weeks. It's also because there are somethings that I definitely want to remember. Which reminds me if anyone else ever reads this I have to warn you there will be swearing and, let's just say, things of a very very personal nature that occurred that I am going to write down in great detail. Because those things I definitely don't want to forget about. I should also warn any readers that this isn't a full account of what happened on Sakaar or the fall of Asgard. I wasn't at all of it, and I'm no good at recounting battles or epic heroics I'm afraid. Luckily Asgardians are great at three things: feasting, drinking and writing sagas. Read those. They are also very good dressers, sort of like a celestial GAP look, all very colour coordinated.

Sorry, I digress. Anyway, the most important reason I'm writing this is that I don't know what is going to happen tomorrow, and I'm scared that whatever 'this' is won't be this when I tell him what I need to. He's here now in the room with me, laying under the gold silk sheets as I write this at the desk nearby. Asleep he looks almost angelic, with a body that sets me so completely alight that I'm going to have to work hard not to become very distracted...

Ok, so to start this at the right point I'm going to give a bit of context about why I was in Norway standing on a clifftop in the first place. A few months before, although it seems a lifetime now, my ex decided to become my ex. He had decided that he 'didn't see a future for them going forward because she was too emotionally distant and could do with losing a few pounds' but apparently did see a future in my size 6 ex-room mate he was now shagging. Emotionally distant of course because I was still grieving for my mother I had lost last year, spending months travelling down to Cornwall to support her through her cancer. Too tired to go to the gym as I was working a crap job because it was the only thing I could get when we moved to Reading so my boyfriend could start his dream job. Although how anything counts as a dream job in sodding IT, I don't know. I know I sound bitter, and I was. I was also sad, confused and desperately wanting to start over. So I'd finally made the trip to Norway, to honour my mother's wishes and to rid my head, and heart, of my ex.

As to why I had to go to a random cliff in Norway? All I knew is that my mother had wanted me to go there, to understand about where I had come from. I loved that woman with all my heart but she had never, ever spoken about my father. Perhaps stupidly I never pushed because I didn't want to hurt her, and so Norway was all I had.

The locals had told me the views from the cliffs were stunning, and they'd been right, so I hadn't been surprised to realise I was sharing the panoramic views with another. Just ahead stood the figure of an old man wearing a slightly tatty linen suit, just staring into the distance. I'd sat on a nearby pile of rocks, nestled in the long grass from the breeze and hopefully giving him the solitude he perhaps wanted, and that I too had come for.

So it was those rocks that only a few moments later I found myself hiding behind as, and this was the only phrase that seemed to make any sense at the time and now, "shit got weird" when two men had arrived through a circle of fire. When that sort of quieted down, I peeked over the top to see a woman in black with antlers appearing through a black storm cloud. At this point I have to admit, I'm not particularly heroic so I had crouched back down, ignoring the growing cramp in my legs, and hoped that they might just all go away.

Of course, that was the moment that I got dragged up a column of rainbow lights and then dumped on a completely different planet.

I woke up dazed on a rubbish tip being considered as a snack by extras from a Mad Max movie.It had only been good luck that I'd been picked up by one of the many small space ships circling through the air on the lookout for new arrivals. Grabbed by someone who smelt appallingly I'd been chained, stabbed in the neck with a big metal button and then manhandled into the vessel.