My last name

I have finally figured out a way to tell people why my name is like it is. All I really know myself is that it’s German of some description. Seriously, I cannot find a meaning for it anywhere.

In a sleepy German village Hans the writer, not a real profession some told him but he did it anyway, heard a knock on his door. Upon answering it, he was greeted by a man

“Hallo, Hans.” The man said.

“Hallo, Schöner.” Hans replied flirtily to the chagrin of the man he was talking to.

“Now Hans, we’ve been over this,” The man, Constantin, said, “I have a Freundin now.” He strolled inside the house “Now, as we have met a few Hans over the course of our trades with other towns, it is not simply enough for you to be Hans. You need a last name.

Hans began sweating. He’d heard of the accursed last names. They’d been travelling like a plague for the past few months. A bead of sweat slowly traced itself down his face.

In a stroke of genius, he had the idea. He drew himself to full height, which was a little under 6 foot. “My name,” He said, “Shall be Shieldbreaker.” There was a glint in his eye, which said he knew he had the perfect idea. It was, after all, from his new fairytale.

“Ah, sorry Hans,” Constantin said with a sadistic smile “Karl down the road already had that taken.”

The sweat began hanging from Han’s nose like a raindrop “Banane” he said with a little more worry.

“Finn already got that.”

In complete panic and underneath a torrent of sweat Hans looked up, and at a bird pecking at the glass pane. It was at that moment he knew.



“Window. With a Y! Wyndow!”

“Hans Wyndow…” He scribbled it does on his pad “Okay then.”

And Constantin left, leaving Hans with only the slight tinge of regret that he might one day leave his Great great great great grandson to be left with a name that we associate with a thing that keeps the wind out and breaks far too easily.