Wasting Light

Emberfield was a town that was forever stuck in the middle of a sunset. The sun, having clearly gone through some sort of existential crisis, refused to properly set, flickering on and off like a busted streetlight. If you tried to catch a good sunset photo, you’d get something that looked like a toddler trying to paint with one crayon: a half-baked attempt that made everyone question their life choices.

Lena, 15, had had it. Every day, the sun would get halfway through setting, then just decide, “Eh, I’m good,” and flicker back up like it had somewhere more important to be. It was as though the sun was living its best “I’ll do it tomorrow” life, and Lena was absolutely done.

Her grandmother, ever the drama queen, blamed it on the curse of the town’s first settlers. “They drank too much cider,” Grandma would say with authority, like she’d been there, “and summoned an angry sun demon that refuses to finish anything.” Lena, having grown up with these weird, cider-filled stories, wasn’t convinced. But it did make her wonder—what kind of celestial being just gives up halfway through?

One day, after another ridiculously awkward "sunset" that left Lena staring at the sky like it was a bad blind date, she snapped.

“That’s it! I’m fixing this. No more flickering, no more half-done sunsets! I deserve better, and so do you, Emberfield!”

Elias, her best friend who had the attitude of a sarcastic loaf of bread, looked up from his phone.

“Oh, really? How exactly are you going to ‘fix’ the sun, Lena? Yell at it? Send it a strongly worded email?”

Lena stood up straighter, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“I’m going to perform a ritual.”

Elias blinked slowly.

“A ritual. Right. You’re going to fix the sun with what? Glitter and a magic wand from Party City?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation, “exactly.”

So, Lena set out to fix the sun in the only way she knew how: with a ritual that she was sure would work, because she had watched at least four YouTube videos on “How to Summon the Sun and Get Your Life Together.” She rounded up her crew, which consisted of Elias (because he was too sarcastic to not be involved), her cousin Lila (who she threatened with zero Wi-Fi if she didn’t come), and an absurdly large amount of glitter.

Lena stood in the center of the stone circle at the edge of town, holding a glitter-covered rock like it was the key to saving the world. “Alright,” she announced, “we’re going to fix the sun, guys. No more flickering. No more lazy sun behavior. We are going to make this thing work.”

Elias, who was clearly regretting every life choice that led him to this moment, took a deep breath and said, “So, when the sun flickers out again, can I just go home and pretend this never happened?”

“No,” Lena said, raising her arms dramatically, “because we’re going to believe, Elias. And with believing, comes power. Now, everyone hold up your glitter.”

Lila, covered head to toe in glitter like a walking disco ball, groaned.

“This is dumb. And also, I think I’m allergic to all this glitter.”

Lena ignored her and began chanting in what she hoped sounded mystical. “Oh great sun, rise and shine, stop your flickering, don’t waste our time! Set properly, without delay, or we’ll summon a cloud to ruin your day!”

Elias, eating chips because apparently this was his version of “helping,” deadpanned, “Well, I’m sure the sun’s really gonna be moved by that.”

But then, in a moment of shocking—and slightly terrifying—coincidence, the sky flickered. It paused. The sun stopped moving. It looked like it was just taking a quick breather in the middle of its journey. Lena froze.

“Did we… did we actually fix it?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Elias squinted at the sky. “Uh… maybe? Or maybe the sun just took a coffee break in the middle of a workday and realized it didn’t want to finish. This is wild, Lena.”

Just then, the sun gave one final flicker, and—poof!—it disappeared behind a cloud.

Lena sighed dramatically.

“Okay, maybe I just need a better chant. A stronger chant. Or a better interpretive dance.”

Elias threw his hands up.

“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve officially ruined my view of the sun forever. You know that, right?”

Lena nodded solemnly.

“It was worth it.”

So, the people of Emberfield continued to live with their forever-wasting light, a sun that would occasionally pull itself together for ten minutes and then bail halfway through. But Lena knew deep down that she'd tried. She'd done her best, using a combination of glitter, chanting, and overconfidence.

“Next time,” she said to Elias, “I’m going to convince the moon to stop being so dramatic.”

Elias smirked. “Yeah, and I’ll bring the glitter.”