Swedes (Hatred)


This story has been rewritten and republished. It was first published on fictionspawn.com September 29. 2016.

Johnny hated Swedish people. They disgusted him. All the time more of them came to his neighbourhood, always so hip, so modern. It was unbearable.

They gave him bad dreams. Hordes of evil Swedes doing him harm. He woke up, sweating. They were gone, but in the darkness there was something else. Something was feeding on his fear.

One night, in a horrible nightmare, the Swedes were about to murder him. The creature appeared and destroyed them all.

The dark creature is my friend, he thought when he woke up. It will protect me.

It appeared frequently in his dreams. Sometimes he saw it when he was awake as well. Staring at him. Comforting him.

One night, when he had come home from the his favourite bar, he sat for a long time staring at the wall. A Swedish guy had started working there. In his bar. So polite, so excessively friendly. Repulsive. Oh, how he hated them, the friendly ones. The worst kind. The annoying smile, that stupid language. Why couldn’t they just speak Norwegian like normal people? He couldn’t stand it.

In his darkest moment the shadows started moving. At first he got scared. He recognized the creature from his dreams. His protector. Its eyes told him not to worry.

We’ll get the fucking Swede. We’ll get him good.

From that day it was there every night. He didn’t always see it, but he could feel its presence. It was there, sharing his troubles. It was them against the Swedes, and the more he hated them, the stronger his friend seemed to become.

One day the newspaper told him someone was found dead in his neighbourhood. There was a picture. The Swede from the bar. His body had been found somewhere by the river. Torn to pieces. Tortured to death. “A horrendous act of evil”, the police had said. “Never seen anything like it”

The creature was there, lying in front of him. He could see it clearer now. It was real. It was looking at him calmly. Satisfied. Could it be…? Its eyes gave him the answer.

It was what you wanted. The words came from inside Johnny’s head, made of his own thoughts. I did it for you.

-No… I… I didn’t want him to be murdered. You can’t murder people!

It’s too late now… The monster didn’t look friendly any more. It looked evil. As it crawled towards him the shadows followed. Johnny took a step back.

-What are you doing? Let me be!

He was trapped in a corner. The creature pushed him to the floor. Licked its dark lips with a pointy tongue. Its eyes stared into his. Hunger. Hatred.

Johnny screamed. Its slimy mouth came down over his head. His screams could no longer be heard. Its lips moved down over his shoulders, his body. Swallowed him alive.

It left through the window. The nightmare had just begun.

The original story will be published monday on my Tumblr account.





  1. well done. hatred/prejudice murdering johnny in the end. if only real life could demonstrate that allegorical ending? sometimes i feel that prejudice does nothing but hurt those toward whom it is directed rather than those who do the hating…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. It might seem that way sometimes, but I sincerely believe it cuts both ways. Our lives are a lot better when we free ourselves from these destructive feelings, and repression steals the feedom of both parts. But of course, the repressor is to blame.


  2. Hatred is a self-inflicted virus. It’s easy to get rid of in the beginning, but if it’s allowed to burrow its way inside . . . . well, your tale tells the outcome quite well.

    Liked by 1 person

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