A Dualities Duet

20251227

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 4” event.

High above us the cathedral belfry rings in the sixteenth hour. We’ve already lost a score of singers, but that leaves near sixty of us standing, and with the conductor’s tea fizzing in my veins I’m sure I can last the whole song.
Eight hours to go. Eight hours of singing, of riling against the darkness which has swallowed the world, and so long as enough of us complete our duty the sun will rise again, like it never left. Like the long darkness was just a dream.
Keep going! Mustn’t stop!
Though, honestly, I’m not sure I could stop. It’d be like trying not to breathe. The song has soaked in, filling my lungs, my belly, my mind. I am the song. And the song is not done.
I’m sure my fellows feel the same, for the echoes of our voices grow louder with each line.
Then I realise those aren’t echoes. They’re a different song. Sombre, sonorous… somniferous. A lullaby. Urging the sun to stay asleep!
Sweat breaks on my forehead. I struggle to keep my focus, to maintain the song.
Why is nobody doing anything?? Am I the only one who can hear it?
Ah, but - the rest of the choir is tied up in the song, like me. So perhaps they hear it but are just as unable to act.
The congregation, however… why do they not stir? My eyes rake the rows. Seeking a glimmer of awareness. Most have bowed heads, making them hard to read. But their stillness suggests they’re oblivious to the war raging across the cathedral.
I pull my full focus back to my duty and grasp my conviction. If we just finish the song, the sun will rise. As it always has. This insidious counter-song must be a mere trick.
The unseen voices extol silence, rest, sleep without end. We retort with joy, growth, life lived with abandon. Back and forth it goes, each of their lines a repost to ours - or is it the other way around?
Sleep.
Wake.
Sleep!
Wake!
Dichotomic stanzas thrum across the cathedral, crackling where the songs intersect. Every hair on my body jitters on end, electrified and chilled by the energies clashing above me. It’s like I’m crouched between two giant dogs who endlessly circle, hackles raised, watching each other for a moment of weakness. A single blink and...
Keep singing! Mustn’t stop!
Bells chime, adding a third song to the maelstrom. The seventeenth hour begins.
Is the soporific song growing louder?
Yes, I’m sure of it - and I’m sure it’s been there the whole time, since we started our vigil, gathering steam as our numbers dwindled.
It will not win! The sun will wake! We just need to finish the song. It must be enough, if we finish the song…
I screw my eyes shut and gather my strength. I must hold steady. Ignore their tricks. Ignore my body’s wishes.
Seven hours to go. I. Am. The. Song.
And the song is not done!

Prompt was: “In your world, a choir sings through the entire longest night to ensure the sun returns. Twenty-four hours. No breaks. No silence. You’re one of the singers. By hour sixteen, you start hearing the song sing back.”