The Longest Night

On the longest night of the year the candles burn lowest and the stories run long. This is the Guild's midwinter contest — the grandest of the season. Write a complete short story of 500 words or fewer that takes place on the longest night. It needs a beginning, a turn, and an ending, all of it inside the limit. Set it in any world, any age, any genre: a lighthouse in the dark, a castle under siege, a kitchen where someone cannot sleep. Warmth or dread — the choice is yours. Every member of the Guild may read and vote, so write for readers rather than judges. Leave us with a feeling we carry past the final line. One entry per scribe, open to every rank. Here is a very short taste of the tone — your own story should be longer and complete, up to 500 words: Mara lit the last candle at four, because the dark came early on the longest night and she had decided, years ago, not to argue with it. Her father's chair still sat by the window where he had left it, and she did not move it, whatever the village said. At midnight the knock came: three slow raps, the way he used to do it. She opened the door to wind and nothing else, and laughed, and wept a little, and set a second cup on the table. “Come in, then,” she told the cold. “It's your night as much as mine.” By dawn the cup was empty. She told no one. The sun rose thin and gold, as if it too had been waiting up.

Prize: A free month of the Archmage tier.