When the Sun Fell
Short Fiction by KYM Writes
Fiction Friday! Here’s a short piece of fiction I wrote last year. The backstory: I remember the sunlight streaming through my office window as I was wrapping up my work day. I assumed it was much earlier until I checked the time and realized it was late evening. A question came to mind. What if the sunset never happened? And then another question followed: What would happen if the sun stopped shining? I grabbed my pen and started jotting down this flash fiction piece. Happy Reading!
When the Sun Fell
One day the sun stood still, refusing to bow to the night.
Bria was the first person to notice the sun hovering in the sky, the daylight lingering until the sunset surrendered. She grew restless around 9 p.m. the first night. Something’s not right. It’s not normal, she told everyone. But no one cared. No one listened to her concerns. They rejoiced that the sun had swallowed the moon. They threw parties. They danced in the streets.
The night never came. Daylight reigned for months. Kids played outside after bedtime. Couples strolled around the block with no regard for time. Old and young men gathered in the alley to shoot dice in the midnight hour.
Bria watched them from afar, worried and concerned about the days ahead while her sister Ya looked on with hope, wondering how they could make the day last forever. Praying the night would never return.
But the days only lasted for so long.
The sun stopped standing.
And eventually, the night came.
Many perished when the darkness swallowed the earth. The survivors clung to the memories of the sun—the former pink-ridden sky now painted with black tar that stretched out across the firmament, like a gaping hole no one could seal shut. A rotted open mouth that sucked them in. Spit them out. Cold and empty.
The night brought out the worst in folks. They fussed and robbed one another. Roamed the streets, polluting the land and plotting harm like mad men. Fighting, killing, and carrying on. Unleashing the monsters inside of them, birthing more darkness in the world. Those who still believed prayed and sang songs to the Maker with tambourines and drums until their voices grew hoarse and the darkness stilled their hands. Some wept. Some groaned.
But not Bria. Bria did not pray or cry. She no longer talked or groaned. She just stared into the void. Letting the night take over her mind until one day she was gone. She wandered the streets like the Drifters who let themselves go, talking to herself, going mad until she lost herself to the night, disappearing into the black hole.
But not Ya. Ya refused to lose herself to the abyss like Bria. She clung to hope to keep afloat. She sketched pictures of the light she once remembered. What color had the sky been? Blue. Pink hues. Golden. An orange fire blazing behind the clouds.
Ya remembered when the kids drew chalk on the sidewalks and played hopscotch all hours, and the neighborhood threw parties and barbecues; some danced in the streets as if the sun would shine upon them forever. The sun burned them in the afternoon. But no one minded much. They cooled their skin underneath the weeping cherry trees. They reveled in the rays. Returning outside over and over again, never sensing the darkness encroaching upon them, never heeding Bria’s warning. Now they wallowed in the thickness, suffocating in the smog. Trapped inside of their homes, their places of rest now barred cages as they peered out foggy windows. Remembering days gone by.
We should’ve lived more in the sun, Ya said aloud to no one in particular. We should’ve enjoyed the day when it was still here.
A deep shudder quivered in the air. The darkness laughed at her, ridiculing the hope she carried within, berating her for believing.
The taunting angered her. Stop laughing at me. You don’t own me.
No. It does not.
The still voice pierced through the night around her. Had she imagined the gentle whisper?
She drew the curtains open and stuck her hand out the window. Lukewarm air kissed her clammy skin, the moisture on her fingertips both hot and cold.
No one believes that. No one is living anymore.
But you can.
There it was again. The whisper. Carrying a word of promise, silencing the wicked shudder roaring against the wind.
When the darkness deepened, Ya yelled out her window, spreading a message for her people to gather in the street with flashlights. The thick air smothered them as they left their porches and trickled into the street, stumbling down cracked pavements, unable to see their feet in front of them. They plodded around the dark with flashlights, the beam leading the way. They lit candles and hung lanterns from trees. They strung lights around their homes like the old days when they adorned their houses for the holidays. Before darkness covered the earth.
Ya stumbled around clumsily in the dark, no longer afraid to face the unknown. She paced the street throughout the night, speaking to the night, wielding her words with force.
You don’t own us. You can’t keep us here.
Some thought she’d gone mad like her sister. But her mind never seemed clearer. She lashed out at the night, punching the air with her words.
The people joined together and held hands as they trekked to an abandoned market to search for food. Ya rummaged through the bare pantry until someone outside screamed her name. She dropped her flashlight and bolted out the store to find her neighbors huddled in the street, their wide eyes staring up at the sky. Together, they gazed at the silver dot breaking through the firmament, casting a glow over their path. An anticipated promise springing to life.
The light was coming.
They murmured in excitement as they waited for the night to lift. Waited for the darkness to peel back and give way to the light. The darkness buckled and shook for the first time since it descended upon them, the shadows wailing into the air, loosening their grip as the earth groaned. The darkness shifted again until it settled, and though the night still hovered, the air no longer suffocated them. They breathed with ease as they went on their way, the silver speckle in the sky taking shape with every step, the glowing dot expanding and forming into something they remembered.
The star led them home.
(Share and subscribe below!)