The days are getting longer. The days shorten. I wake early to see the dawn of the longest day. 

But from here the days shorten, second by second. I watch the day break. It is dark and cold, 

but the days are getting longer, second by second. We’ve reached the tipping point, a moment 

of light in the darkness. The fire crackles against the warm night. The sun stills and turns, 

the start of summer. The fire burns bright, a beacon in the darkness. We wear garlands, herbs

and flowers, embrace the beginning of days to come, cast out evil spirits that wait in the dark. 

We wait for the coming of longer days, of new life bursting into being. We see the dawn and know

that they are coming, the darkness is behind us. The light lingers. We hold onto it, clasping 

at the light, afraid that it will disappear, sit out by the dying fire a little longer, watch 

the embers of the fire extinguish, and hold onto the knowledge that there’s better things to come.

Winter Solstice [Short Story]

It’s a long climb up the hill to the spot and he wonders, yet again, why they bother. It’s windy and exposed, and there’s no chance in hell that they’re going to be able to get a fire going. And yet, here they are, once again, same as they are every year, climbing up this wretched hill in the dark to celebrate something and he’s not even sure why anymore.

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