Distributing The Old Favourite

20260102

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 5” event.

“Seer…”
Keith blinked and looked up. Puzzled by the strange timbre of this voice. Definitely not living, nor a ghost, nor speaking from another plane. What could it possibly be?
The vague shape leaning out from the clock didn’t enlighten him - though its posture filled him with urgency.
He set his tablet aside and leant forward to scrutinise his strange guest. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” It croaked. “I am what remains of Twenty-Twentyfive.”
“You’re the year?”
“The essence of mortal perception of it.”
“Ah. Pleased to meet you?”
2025 chuckled. “Rather too late for that.” Its tone grew sombre as it added “Possibly too late for my request. I shan’t begrudge if you can’t manage it. But I have to try. It turned out to be too heavy a regret to carry to my rest.”
Intriguing!
“I’ll certainly try my best. What do you need?”
What could a year, much less a year which ended in four hours, possibly want from a mortal seer?
“It’s customary, during the handover period we just went through, for the exiting year to parcel their remaining vigour out amongst those who consider this their best year. I… didn’t bother. I figured nobody would hold me in such high regard. Why embarrass myself? But now, with my vigour near ebbed away, I feel foolish for not even trying - and I lack the power to find them. Could you…?”
“Ooh, a challenge!” Keith dragged the little trolley with his scrying setup over and rubbed his hands together. “So, everyone across the world who considers this past year their best? Or favourite?”
“Yes… if there are any…” 2025 whispered, its voice small and anxious.
“Give me a moment.” Keith lit some boosting incense, snuffled a dose of nasal spray so the mystic herbs could actually do their thing, and set his copper scrying crown across his brow.
Deep breaths. Focus. Casting a Query across the entire planet was a serious ask, even with the presence of the dying year producing a lovely deep well in the aether. So long as he could get the Query out, he should definitely get something useful back.
Keith stared into the smoky depths of the crystal ball and let his upper mind drift while beneath the Query pulsed, over and over. Who would call this their best year?
Aha. A great many young children - unsurprising. For most of them this was the first year they properly remembered, the first celestial cycle they’d had full personhood to explore and enjoy. A shallow kind of favourite, but their favour was there nonetheless.
Behind them… Older children who were still growing into the world. Teenagers who’d managed to scrape wins they were proud of. Adults who’d gotten lucky breaks, had hard-earned success come in, or been blessed by near-misses which left them deeply grateful for what they had.
A line of faces paraded past, each one a little more worn, a little guiltier at celebrating this year when they knew so many had suffered through it. Each of them holding 2025 as their best year in one way or another.
The final person was an old lady, eighty-two, who just this summer had embraced life again after being widowed three years ago had left her bereft and lost. She felt like she was finally the person she’d never dared to be, and mourned that she hadn’t shared her true self with her late beloved husband. But she couldn’t change the past, only vow to embrace herself fully in the time she had left. She liked to think he’d approve.
Of her eighty-two years, 2025 was the best. A year she would remember for the rest of her life. A year which would always hold a special place in her heart.
“Oh.” 2025 murmured. Its voice barely a rustle now, with the final hour melting away. “Oh my! Thank you! Thank you all. And thank you most of all, seer. Thank you forever.”
The old wizened year stretched out and touched the crystal ball with one hand, and Keith with the other. He felt a jolt, like three day’s worth of energy had been poured into the well of exhaustion he carried. And he knew those he’d scried had been gifted the same.
Almost more buoying was seeing the joy with which 2025 melted into the clock, all huddled anxiety and stooped regret cast aside. Happily, proudly going to its rest.
Well.
Keith grinned and cracked his neck. Far too late to head to a party, so… might as well pour himself a sherry, run a nice bubble bath, and get ready to turn in once the fireworks died down. Having done a great job bidding farewell to the old year, he might as well start the new year off right.

Prompt was “On December 31st, the spirit of the dying year appears to you. It looks exhausted. Faded. It has one request before midnight erases it completely—a small task, a message delivered, a wrong made right. You have until the countdown ends.”