The End of Summer by Sarah Turner

In the golden lands east of the mountains, a muddy-haired child was born to Sito. She named her Cora, and into her she wove the sky and the grass and the silken heads of tulips.

Sito and Cora dwelt in a constant summer. Roses, left to stretch skyward, grew as tall as trees, and the land bore endless fruit. Cora helped her mother pick fat olives and red-cheeked apples, and in the dim light of the kitchen they sliced and boiled and poured their harvest into jars. Sito watched her daughter and saw that she was not yet distinct from the land, not yet her own being separate from the bark and the mud that had snuck beneath her nails. When Cora fell away to sleep, the world fell away with her. When she rose, the world rose too.

At moonrise, when the fields crawled under the blanket of darkness, mother and daughter would sit in their little stone house with only a candle for light, and Sito would tell tales of the Underworld whose blackness yawned far beneath the earth. She would speak of shape-shifters who snatched children, and as Cora's eyes widened she would say, "Do not fear, child, for whilst I am watching, no harm can come to you." On those balmy nights, they sat until the flame burned down, and when it extinguished they watched as the smoke streamed up into the beams like a phantom.

One bright day, when all was well in the land, Sito watched as Cora picked ears of corn, lamenting that the sun would dip, that the moon would rise, that she could not stay forever with the corn that glittered like gold in her daughter's hands.

She was about to call out that it was time for bread and jam when a large crow, like a shadow, swept across the sky. Sito tore her gaze from her daughter for just a moment, but the crow saw its chance. It swooped low and with its talons it snatched Cora and took her deep beneath the earth.

Sito wept until the crop drowned and the heads of roses bowed under the relentless pelt of water. Some dropped their petals as if they, too, wept. Sito scoured the fields and the moors, even the deep forests that bordered the golden lands, but there were no holes or cracks, no ways to the world beneath, only the shallow burrows of startled creatures who now ran from her tread.

When Sito's tears dried, the land fell fallow. Fruit shrivelled and leaves left their weakening branches for the steadiness of ground. Sito no longer ate; she grew old and weak and full of a hunger that no food could sate. On moonless nights, she placed candles in the windows so that the little house shone like a beacon, then she would sit in her chair and fight sleep till it took her.

One morning, six moons after Cora had been snatched, Sito spotted the dark shape of the crow as it soared across the cloud-choked sky. She searched the ground for a heavy stone then hurled it into the air with all her might. The crow shrieked but it did not fall.

"Please give me back my child," cried Sito, picking up another stone.

"I would give you your child," cawed the crow, "had she not eaten at the table of the Underworld."

Sito took aim but the bird flew in circles about her head and declared: "Three breadcrumbs she has swallowed."

"Then you have tricked her!" cried Sito, and she threw her stone, but the crow soared high and flew out of reach towards the grey mountains.

Snow had never come to the golden lands before, but now it smothered the fields and trees, blending pale earth with pale sky, ridding the world of boundary and form. Creatures sunk into hibernation and plants froze beneath the surface as if too scared to move. The sun, growing sad and weak, no longer climbed high in the sky and the moon iced over so that both day and night were cruel and cold.

On the coldest day the land had ever known, the bird came to Sito's house and pecked at the lattice window with its sharp beak until she came to the door.

"Your sadness is starving us and with us your daughter. We cannot find berry nor grain to eat. We cannot bear your grief much longer.”

Sito was weak but felt a glimmer of hope. “Give me my child and the land will be full again. I swear by the moon and the sun.”

The crow shook its beak, the world grey and warped in its gleaming sheath.

But Sito would not be deterred. “Share her with me and my grief will not be so terrible. Share her with me and you may eat.”

The crow considered this then morphed into a tall spike that struck the ground. The land cracked open to reveal miles of darkness, and at its depths, silver figures and thin rivers wove between pillars of spectral stone. Sito cried for Cora three times, and when the last echo faded, her daughter rose up, a smile upon her face.

With Cora now home in the little stone house, summer returned to the golden lands. Flowers opened up their faces to clear skies, and creatures woke from deep slumbers to a world ripe with fruit. Sito sat in yellow light and watched her daughter, watched the shining earth of her hair and the bright birds that now swooped low over the fields.

When the sixth month was nearly ended, mother and daughter harvested the land and moulded tallow candles in preparation for the long winter, and when the last day came upon them, Cora went willingly to the Underworld, promising her mother she would return.

Sito drifted through the house, gazing forlornly out of windows, then she lit the candles, sat in the moonless dark, and began the long wait.