Originally posted on r/writingprompts in 2016.
Prompt: On a distant planet, each of the five seasons lasts for 15 years. Tell us about the first day of spring on this world. Today the sun Ydi came back to us. Her bright blue crown just barely skirted over the horizon, but we saw it nonetheless and felt Her warmth even more. Many of us were in tears. Our history knows that she comes back every Spring, but us Younger sometimes lose track of that hope—fifteen years is a long time to wait. I barely remember Her from my childhood, but I was born ten years into the Fall, only five years of Ydi on Her peak, so I had little time to look up and feel Her glow. She left completely at the end of Drawl, leaving that beautiful, crimson Orph in our sky, alone. The Longlived can only assure us that She’ll return; they’ve seen Her rise and peak and fall just once. If they’re lucky, they manage to see one of Ydi’s degrees a second time. Those are rare folk. Highly regarded. But crazy. I can’t imagine living through two Winter Spans or two Harvest Rush. I lost quite a few childhood friends these last ten years. They say to be born in years of Fall, is to be born with a sad heart. Those born in Fall become adults by the Winter Span. And fifteen years of Solo Sol is desperately painful. So many avoid having families in those years. Every Fall generation is quite scarce, compared to the rest. For the last year we’ve had the Lyre observance, for Her return. Every month we commune in the Hall and spend a night playing music and kill one beast. We’re still a bit old fashioned in this village. But I’ve only heard of the Lyre and my grandmother taught me music as a child, so that I could participate. I’m thirty-five now, my five year old son plays better than I do. But what a celebration it is. There isn’t much music or laughter or joy in the Winter. The Lyre will continue until Ydi completely crests and is seen in full. I’m told it’ll be another year. But even now, everything has shifted. The energy in town has ignited. Children and teenagers alike are gleeful after this first glimpse. Us adults are as much relieved, as we are happy. For the last month a sapphire glow on the horizon has teased us. Most of the village braved the ice and hiked to the temple—built on the highest ground in the area, in today’s early hours. We sat in the coliseum and sang and laughed and told stories from Spans passed. An hour before Ydi appeared, Orph had risen, seemingly leading her to us. He shined a proud red and Her cerulean glow mixed with His. The legendary Violet Vault had returned. That’s when many of us cried. I remember early mornings from my childhood in my father’s lap, staring at the sky forever, the Violet Vault above me. Once the Lyre comes to an end, there’s the first moment where our two stars seem to kiss in the sky. It’s a somber day, one where we are finally able to bury those who passed in the Winter Span. The ground has warmed and is finally loose enough to dig. There are separate ceremonies for those who passed and those who couldn’t see to Winterend. Many of my childhood friends will be among the latter, as will my husband. We do not condemn our people who fall to the dim of Winter. They are often the better of us. The soft, the gentle, the kind. But we will mourn them and cry that they will have missed the Spring Span, the filling in of the trees, the plants as they burst from their deep seeds and the water as it flows freely around us. By Springend, Ydi and Orph will be in peak together, on their thrones, and the folk on this planet will celebrate them and the warmth their reunion brings. Comments are closed.
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