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Weekly Contest #94
The last moon of the old year was not visible in the sky. The sun had vanished early in the afternoon and the moon refused to appear, leaving only black and bitter night. It had been an unusually cold winter, and by the time what should have been the beginning of spring arrived, snow still splintered underfoot. The islanders celebrated the new year anyway, with the same stubborn tradition they did everything with. When their ceremonial fires sputtered out in the cold, they smudged the ash across their children’s faces to protect them...
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