Setting:
A cozy kitchen in Tromsø, Norway. Snow is falling gently outside. Two friends—Lars (the superstitious one) and Mikael (the rational thinker)—are sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. A half-eaten plate of waffles sits between them.
Lars: (peering out the window)
I saw something by the shore again last night, Mikael. Tall, dripping wet, eyes like coals. I swear it was a Draug.
Mikael: (sipping coffee, unfazed)
Lars, that was probably Eirik’s scarecrow again. You say this every time fog rolls in and you watch “Draugens Natt” on TV.
Lars:
No, this was different. It wasn’t just mist and shadows. The dogs wouldn’t stop barking, and the tide went weird. And this morning? Did you hear? Old Rasmus’s boat came back with no fish. Nothing. Not even a haddock fart.
Mikael:
A haddock fart?
Lars:
You know what I mean. It’s the Draug! They warn of death, Mikael. Every time someone sees one, something bad happens at sea. It’s been true since my farfar’s time.
Mikael:
Lars, Rasmus has a hole in his net the size of your ego. And last time you claimed to see a Draug, it turned out to be that German tourist with seaweed on his parka.
Lars: (leans in, serious)
You laugh, but I’m telling you, there’s truth in the old ways. My great-uncle Harald swore he saw one before his best friend fell overboard during a storm. You can’t explain that away.
Mikael:
Anecdotes aren’t evidence, my friend. The sea is dangerous, storms happen, and people fall overboard. That doesn’t mean an undead sailor popped up to give them a doom forecast.
Lars:
So you don’t believe in anything beyond science? Not even a little mystery?
Mikael: (grinning)
I believe in a lot of things. Quantum physics is mysterious enough. But if there were soggy zombie sailors haunting the fjords, someone would’ve caught one on a GoPro by now.
Lars:
Maybe they don’t show up on cameras. Ever think of that?
Mikael:
Sure. And maybe they don’t like Instagram filters either. Come on, if Draugs were real, marine biologists would be writing papers on “Supernatural Salinity and Post-Mortem Swimming Patterns.”
Lars: (laughing despite himself)
You’d be the one to write that paper.
Mikael:
Exactly. And I’d publish it in The Journal of Baltic Baloney.
Lars:
Okay, fine. But even if you don’t believe in Draugs, you have to admit there’s something eerie about the sea. People have vanished without a trace. Isn’t it comforting, in a weird way, to think something is guarding the boundaries between life and death?
Mikael:
I get that. The sea is unpredictable, and stories help people make sense of that. But let’s use those stories to inspire respect, not fear. Teach proper safety, check your equipment, and then maybe tell a spooky tale over aquavit.
Lars:
So you’re saying—fear the waves, not the wraiths?
Mikael:
Exactly. Besides, if a Draug really did show up, I’d offer him coffee and ask about his undead cardio regimen. Those guys row for eternity. That’s commitment.
Lars: (snorting coffee through his nose)
You’re impossible. But fine, maybe I’ll check my net for holes before blaming ghost-fishermen next time.
Mikael:
Progress! Next stop: convincing you that knocking on wood doesn’t affect world events.
Lars:
Don’t push your luck, Mikael. That’s sacred ground.
[They laugh, clink their mugs, and watch the snow dance outside—one still watching the shore a little more carefully than the other.]
Science Vs Superstition 
Tell Us What You Think