The sun appeared large through the haze. But looking further Ming noted the sky itself was a dazzling blue. Looking back at the sun he realized it was not haze at all! The sun had grown, but diffused somewhat as well. It appeared larger, but duller than its usual brilliant self, its outline unfocused.

Ming continued down the rocky slope, high above the long hills, gazing not toward the heavens; feeling, perhaps, some evil was afoot. And he cared not to tread in the direction of fear, or acknowledge the strange appearance of the sky.

He hoped it was just his own malady, that others saw the sun as always, that his eyes were playing a trick, perhaps an illusion, an odd mirage. But his heart thumped discouragingly in his chest.

As he approached the village the others stood, looking skyward, some pointing, all with concern creased across their faces. Ming walked past the many others not heeding their appeals to look upon the site high above. He dropped his pack once he entered the darkness inside the small thatched-roof hut he called home. Tossing some dry dung in the tiny hearth, he started a fire and warmed his hands. He rested a bit before setting up the small spit which he would cook part of his purchase on.

Meal consumed, Ming went outside and watched the others who still stared at the face of the foreign sun. The guiding-master was among them now and assured them all was well, that the sun was merely passing through a stage of renewal, as all things must, that there was nothing to fear.

The barren lands made for a harsh life here in the high desert of the Hazzam. Ming, when a young man, had driven the oxen over into the valley and brought wagon after wagon of wood for the fires as well as the building and repairing of huts. But, over the years, the forest withdrew, the once plentiful wood now a luxury most could ill afford. Even the oxen were now gone—a smattering of goats and a small group of swine the best of the village’s livestock, the small buildings mostly in disrepair.

As the sun waned it grew still more. Four hand-breadths across as it sank behind the long hills. Here, on the dry side, where there was one well and a small undependable, often dry, stream. The village held its collective breath through the deep of the nocturne.

The dawn broke yellow. The sun rose and kept rising ’til mid-day—so vast was its size. No blue was noted; for all the sky was brimming with nothing but sun. But it was duller still. Although it filled the sky, the day was dim—like a thin cloud cover—but no clouds floated across the desert sky of the Hazzam.

The villagers called again to the guiding-master. Her ancient face grimaced at the face of the new sun. Lo! Something was gravely wrong. The day drew slowly by—seemed as if a day-and-a-half had elapsed when the sun finally finished its course through the heavens.

The elders called a moot that nocturne—no one was to sleep; for all must participate in the great call to the guiding spirits, the sky wardens, and beg them please return the sun to its proper place in the sky. The guiding-master suggesting some evil, hidden no doubt, was perpetrated here on the Hazzam and the sky wardens had drawn the sun close by to cast notice upon that evil.

In the deep of the nocturne the horizon glowed in all directions. Ming could imagine the great new sun might rise at every point the four winds blew come morning. Children wept. Even the guiding-master was sore afraid.

Darkness was replaced by gray. A dull light covered the sky with no hint of its dimensions. The dusky day was longer still; at least the length of three days in one. And during the following nocturne the thunders and the lightenings came upon the Hazzam, the stream overflowing its banks, killing many of the swine, the lightenings causing wildfires down the long hills below the village. Another nocturne of nil sleep.
The dawning came and remained. Just enough light to see for some short distance, but hardly sufficient to call a day. Some less sturdy souls wandered away into the desert, some, in quiet madness, took their own lives. Still others, merely sat and cried mournfully. A week later darkness again returned to the Hazzam.

Ming rose up and called on the guiding-master. She was huddled by the fire in front of her hut, muttering and murmuring in chants Ming did not comprehend. She looked up at his approach and glanced away, distrust marked a sneer across her dried-apple face. She bade him leave her presence.
Ming gathered his few belongings into his pack and began down the trail toward the long hills. Perhaps the sun remained normal over the high ridges to the north–that all was right with the world in the mountain forest over on the wet side. But Ming could no longer remain here on the Hazzam, for the sky wardens had snatched away the sun god. And so he traveled up the rocky path and into the eternal nocturne as the wolves howled with delight.

©2009 DJ Barber

                                  SUMMER CHILLER CONTESTANT

James slept much later than intended on his first morning in the cottage. Sleep had not come easily. The lack of the familiar sounds of traffic unnerved him, and the creaks and groans of the old building had him snapping his eyes open, staring wide eyed in the darkness. Eventually, the fatigue of uprooting his entire life and moving to the Wiltshire countryside had caught up with him and he fell into a deep undisturbed sleep.
 
After firing up the stove in the kitchen, which also heated the water in the cottage, he had made himself a large breakfast and had taken a long hot bath, washing away the sweat and stress of the previous day. His belongings were mostly still in boxes, strewn across the floor in untidy piles, but they could wait. He wanted to explore his new environment before he started the mammoth task of unpacking.
 
He put a bottle of water into a rucksack and walked to the gate at the bottom of the garden. The forest stood before him, a vast expanse of ivy covered tree trunks leading up to the thick canopy of leaves some thirty feet above him. The greenery of the summer not yet giving way to the yellow and orange hues of the oncoming autumn. The air was filled with the sounds of bird song and thick with the sweet smell of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. Taking a deep breath, James headed into the woods.
 
He had lived in the city for his entire life, and was unprepared for the concentration of natural beauty. He moved along the path in silence. This place was just what he needed to put all thoughts of the divorce out of his mind. He could feel his malaise lifting already.
 
He came to a fork in the path and paused for a moment to consider the best route, before heading left, deeper into the dense woodlands.
 
He judged that he had been walking for over an hour, perhaps more. The light began to change, taking on a subdued yellow hue and although still warm, a cold edge crept into the breeze that had not been present when he set out. He decided that he should head back before it got dark.
 
A rustling sound came from the undergrowth ahead of him, and he stood transfixed as a large male deer appeared on the path, pausing to regard the intruder before continuing on its way. “God I love this place” he said, turning around and beginning his journey home.

***
 “God I fucking hate this place!” he swore as he stumbled along the trail. The woods were now completely dark, lit only with an occasional silvery light as the moon broke through the cloud cover and he had lost the track a number of times in the darkness, staggering through grasping brambles before finding his way again.
 
Up ahead, the trees started to thin and he pressed on, hoping to have finally gotten out of the endless woodlands. Instead, he arrived at a small clearing containing a black pool of water and overhung by a single weeping willow.
 
The moonlight illuminated the clearing and the pool in a flat monochrome, accentuating the shadows cast by the trees, and shimmering across the pools surface. At the edge of the water stood a young woman, crying into her hands. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and across the back of the light summer dress she wore.

The girl was translucent, only visible at all when bathed directly in moonlight. Her left side, partly caught in shadow, did not appear to exist. She turned and walked along the edge of the water, fading in and out of existence as she passed through the dancing shadows.

It was then that she noticed him. Her eyes met his and he felt disoriented, as if suffering an attack of vertigo, his heart leaping in his chest and his head spinning. Her mouth opened and she appeared to speak, although the only sounds were those of the woods, then, as the moon moved behind a cloud, she vanished.
He scanned the clearing, searching for her, but all he saw were the long shadows cast by the trees, and the light on the surface of the pool. There was no sign of the girl.

Then he saw her, walking from the far side of the clearing, where the shadows were deeper. At first, all he could see were flashes of illumination, where parts of her body were caught in the silver light. As she made her way across the clearing however, she came into full view.
The girl was walking right for him – a sense of purpose in her stride. Then, as the moon moved behind a cloud, she disappeared again.

James took a deep breath and tried to steady his trembling hands. That was a fucking ghost! His legs were rubber and he stumbled as he backed away from the dark pool. The woods seemed much more inviting all of a sudden.
 
The moon broke free of the clouds once more, and the girl was right beside him. James uttered an involuntary cry. Her mouth moved silently once more – the words “Help me” on her lips. Spectral tears rolled down her face.

James could not move, or even speak for a moment, then, swallowing the hard knot of fear, replied, “How?”

The girl leaned over towards him. Her bright blue eyes were the last things he saw before she kissed him.

 James felt as if he were falling, there was a sharp tearing pain, and then he felt nothing at all. James opened his eyes, and to his horror, realised he was looking right back at himself.
 
“Thank you for the body James. Goodbye”. His body then turned and walked away, back into the woods.

He opened his mouth to scream, but there was only silence. Then the moon passed behind a cloud, and James vanished from sight.

©2009 Graeme Reynolds

Graeme Reynolds is a 38 year old software tester and horror author. You can read his work on his homepage http://www.graemereynolds.com