The Solstice Mausoleum: A Perilous Journey to the Other Side

On the longest day of the year, a town revives an ancient solstice ritual and discovers its unexpected powers

Solstice Quotes: “Out from behind the darkness viewed, the light again renewed. May strife and worry cease, with warming rays of joy and peace. The dark and cold of winter pressed its snowy blanket down. It stilled the land and bid it rest to dream beneath its frosty gown.”

“Goodbye old wicked one,” Aiden Quinn hissed as he tossed another dead fish back to the cold, dark, choppy waves. No amount of sun could warm the air that the bitter salt clouded. The deepest waters begged for mercy as the weight of her oceans crashed into the nearby rocks. They were closing in on land, and not just any land— “the Isle of Wright approaches. Maybe they will have some rations to spare.”

“What’ll we eat if all the fish are rotted,” Liam Dempsey cursed. Slugging a pail of water onto the deck. His mop caked with grease and dead fish guts.

“What do you think they eat if all the fish are dead?” Calum Kirkpatrick mused as a few other deckhands gathered round. “We haven’t eaten for days. I’m starting to think the waters are cursed. Should’ve turned around and headed back like the port-master said. Summer’s facing up to be brutal. Staying there would've been better than pickling with the dead fish…”

“That’s hogswash and you know it,” Aiden Quinn shouted as another swell rolled under the boat, sending them closer to the treacherous shore. He wondered what all he’d gotten himself into as the boat rocked from side to side but thought better of it as he righted himself.

“The port-master would’ve said anything for us to dock there for the night. They are hurting for money too, just like we all are. I made the right decision to keep us on track. My job is to look out for the crew and the Isle of Wright is as good as any a place to dock. The ramp should be on the other side of the island. Let’s make way…”

No further words were spoken as the men and their small crew rounded the Isle, and sure enough, just as Aiden Quinn said, the docking port was right where it should’ve been.

“Funny,” Calum Kirkpatrick started, “I would’ve thought a lighthouse keeper would’ve met us at the dock. The lights aren’t even flashing, no flags are out. Nothing. What’d you make of that Quinn? Should we still dock and check it out or keep going. Something’s telling me we move along, not to stop here, after all Quinn, this isn’t our problem. We don’t want to go meddling into business that isn’t ours…”

“Shut it,” Aiden Quinn muttered. “We are docking here. At least to get something to eat, take a few moments on solid ground. Get some fresh air, take a nap. Get our bearings. Whatever you want to do. There’s no bad-luck here if you don’t believe in that stuff. Besides, I don’t want to be on the water during one of the longest days of the year. It’s solstice time, in all your skittish ways you would think that would account for something—eh?”

Calum Kirkpatrick sat quiet for a second as though pondering whether he wanted to keep the argument going— “I’ll agree with you there. Solstice isn’t a good time to be fairing the ocean, but sir, I can’t help it. You keep saying things, things that aren’t good. It doesn’t bode well. Winter was brutal and Summer is gearing up to be just as bad. Its cloudy, the fish are dead all around us, I mean just a few moments ago you were telling a fish good-bye. Good-bye! We never say good-bye on the ship, ever. It’s bad luck. I can say that now because we are grounded, and docked. You know how these things go.”

“Calum—shut it!” Aiden Quinn cautioned. The clouds were ripe overhead. Angry grey blankets that threatened to swallow them whole. Of course, deep down Quinn knew Calum was right. Something was amiss.

“We need to tie her down and get to shelter gentlemen. You know the drill.”

Within a few short minutes the men found themselves climbing up slippery, water logged stone steps. Blades of razor-sharp grass cutting against their boots as they headed up the perilous cliff-side.

“Didn’t look that high from the ship,” Liam Dempsey called out as he rounded the first hump. His breathless words were lost in the howling winds as the last of his shipmates gaggled behind. They made the trek uphill in a single-filed-line like ants headed towards fate unknown.

“What is this place?”

The first signs of a crack began to form. Nervous, idle chatter traveled through the men as they gathered at the landing between the first and second flight of stone stairs. They were hundreds of feet above the choppy ocean as waves lapped closer, begging to steal their lives with every lick. Each step draining their strength to continue further.

“It looks like a cemetery…” Calum Kirkpatrick whispered, practically choking on his very words as the lighthouse beacon flickered, the light exhausting itself.

“A mausoleum maybe, I think I see one up to the left.”

“Well that is strange,” Aiden Quinn replied, pursing his lips as he chewed uncomfortably on the inside of his cheek. A hint of fear appearing for the first time on his otherwise stoic face. Large stone markers dotted the land. Indeed, it appeared this place was for the dead…but who’s dead exactly?

“We are here, might as well see what is going on. We’ve never fared away from death before, can’t start now.” A slight lump sounded for the words he wished he hadn’t spoken.

The men continued up the next set of stairs, there must’ve been a hundred more staggering, unnaturally long bench-like steps.

“Who were these made for? Must’ve made the steps elongated to account for bearings with the wind, or to carry equipment up, that sort of thing.” Liam Dempsey reasoned.

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that,” Calum Kirkpatrick quipped nervously.

“We shouldn’t be here and you know it. You all know it.”

Silence cloaked the men in heavy velvet. No calm, quieting thoughts prevailed. Nerves trickled through their veins like rupturing ice, exposing their human shackles as they huddled even closer.

The ominous, looming door of the mausoleum styled building hung over them. Quinn hung his head, resting it for a moments reprieve against the solid wood. For a second, he felt nothing. He heard nothing, just the beating of his heart as the blood rushed into his ears. He quickly turned the handle as quietly as he could, forcing it open. Stale air met them all, a large, oversized book lie open on an otherwise empty table. It was a logbook—hand-bound leather with thick pages and heavy, handwritten notes scribbled along the faint drafting lines.

Lighthouse logs showed an entry for a few hours before—around 9AM. The number twelve circled on a neighboring line.

“It’s just after noon so it’s possible another ship came by and got the men. Maybe relief will come by the end of day.” Aiden Quinn continued on as the men searched the lighthouse and the mausoleum from top to bottom. It wasn’t clear if he was quite sure of what he had just said, or if he even believed it.

“Are you asking or telling?” Liam Dempsey queried. “It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself of what we’ve stumbled upon...either way, it's not good.”

“Don’t mind that, I am simply quelling your thoughts. Let me be the one to worry about things.” Aiden Quinn replied, pushing all the negative thoughts from his own mind as he swiped his fingers along the dusty sill of a nearby oven.

“Look at the size of that thing. I wonder what they cook in there,” Calum Kirkpatrick said, nodding towards the oven Quinn had been standing by—it was the size of a small car.

“Speaking of, let’s get something cooking, there’s cans in the cabinet. Remember, leave things as you found them, if not better.”

“Captain…Quinn…sir…you need to come and take a look at this. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Another of their crew shouted from the doorway, buckling over to grab their side. Barely able to point down the slopes to where the other half of the crew stood motionless, in deep conversation.

“Calm down Killian,” Quinn said, lifting up another of his young men to their feet. “Get your wits about you Clancy. Let’s go have a look.”

Quinn, Dempsey and Kirkpatrick left with Killian Clancy down a smaller path towards a clearing under the lighthouse. For all the hours in the day, you wouldn’t have known it to be noon given how dark it had grown outside without the guiding beam of the lighthouse’s light.

The grey clouds turned into black, rumbling tufts of stringy cotton. Bolts of lightening flashed about, cackling across the weathered sky.

“Look at these markers. There has to be twenty feet between them. Why all the space? No man I’ve ever seen is that tall.”

Quinn stood quiet, his hat against his chest as he pondered what to say.

Truth was he’d never seen such a sight.

“Maybe what they say is true…” Quinn began, his tired eyes scrunching together as he pulled the words out.

“There were many-a-rumor about the Isle of Wright. Some call it the Isle of Man. A place where whole ships and their crew disappear. I never believed such stories myself but of course, I’ve never seen the Island before. They say it calls to you when you are in deep need, giving you what you want before spitting you out. In all the years I’ve roughed these seas not a peep has ever come from this place. No Island, no speck of light, no cursed waves pushing me in. Drawing me close...and this place surely doesn't seem to have anything to offer...”

Aiden Quinn paused long and hard, more of the men had circled around. The sky heaved, bursting in one brilliant swoop spilling out heavy drops of rain and sending them scurrying back to cover. Up above in the lighthouse quarters where the Mausoleum-like building stood, a flash of green erupted from the ovens and the men were sucked into the tepid grates before landing smack-dab in the middle of a lush-forest bed.

“I was just trying to light the kerosene vat. I don’t know what happened.”

Neal Gilroy lie ashen and sweaty. The half-lit match still in hand. His spectral blue eyes peered out from the chalky haze as a few nearby men helped him up. Wiping the soot from their own clothes as they tried to get their bearings together.

“Guess that means we won’t be able to eat,” Liam Dempsey let out a soft chuckle as he kicked a nearby bush.

“Where are we now,” mumblings could be heard from the bushes, more panicked voices. “So, it’s true, I knew it…I knew it. We should never have come here.” Calum Kirkpatrick jeered as more gasps and hushed whispers filled the otherwise quiet woods.

In the haphazard clearing below, tall, hairy, gnome-like men with rounded shoulders and thorny spines walked around. Their arms were the size of swollen tree trunks that grazed the sides of their knees when they walked.

“Beasts, monsters, savage animals. We must’ve died and gone to hell,” Calum Kirkpatrick muttered excitedly.

“Or maybe another planet,” Liam Dempsey added as he leaned far over the rocks. “It’s curious, this doesn’t look any different than any other Island we’ve been to.”

“If you look any closer they will see us,” Calum hissed nervously grabbing at Liam’s trousers to pull him back.

“He’s right…Liam’s right…” Quinn interrupted. A look of disbelief on his face. “They are Aradrai’s, a part of the Nomoth family if I recall correctly, similar kin to Monkeys and Ogre’s,” Quinn whispered. “They were rumored to guard the Isle of Wright. That must be where we are..."

“This place surely isn’t the Isle of Wright…we were just on that spot of land and it wasn’t very big,” Liam scoffed. “These trees are unlike anything from the Island, there is too much light and life and greenery here. Insects and birds, flowers. There are other creatures, not like anything I've ever seen...” he stopped to point back to the Aradrais that had gathered amongst a group themselves. They were preparing something quite inviting. A stew or soup of some sort.

The smell wafted up through the tree tops beckoning them to come down.

“We’ve been expecting you,” a brash voice sounded from the head of what appeared to be a long table. There was room for fifty men and yet the seats sat empty.

The crew stopped short of where the brush met the sandy clearing. Unsure of what next to do.

“Welcome to the Aeranas Isles, I am Ceje, this is Bemrun. We’ve made a feast for you all to enjoy. Whatever you wish, whatever you need—you can find it here.”

“I don’t understand,” Aiden Quinn spoke and for the first time sounded rather unsure of what to say.

“Is this place real?”

“As real as you want it to be, as real as you make it.” Ceje responded.

“You were brought here for a reason, the Island chose you, the lighthouse beckoned you to come. Not only on the longest day of the year but the hottest, quietest and coldest all at once.” Bemrun turned, opening his arms for effect—“The seas split open, the skies fell. You lit the oven, things lined up exactly as they should. This was how it was always meant to be and you will be here until the purpose no longer suits you or until you find whatever it is your earthly soul leads you towards.”

Ceje stepped forward—“This is how it works, how it always works for you, those before you and those that will come after. The skies open up and we start the fires. The clouds roll in and lull you towards the lighthouse. You are here until your tides are paid and your eternal debts are granted, until you find yourselves within yourself. But don’t linger on such formalities. This is all a part of life. Think of it this way, if you hadn’t found the Island you would have likely starved to death…your bodies left to wash up along the shore only to be buried and forgotten like some of the others…”

Bemrun let the words settle into their ears as he led them to the table. The men thought back to the long, nameless graves.

“We are here to serve you, to make sure your passage back is as safe as ever. Each of you are touched by the ashes of midsummers fire. This will protect you from all evils of the sea-faring ways and plant in you gardens and rivers and streams and lakes. Their seeds will root from the bottom up, through stone and sledge and silt ensuring you a bountiful harvest for this year and every year after. Ensuring your tables are always full of abundant things to feast—roots, and tubers, barrels of fish, racks of lamb, fruits galore, spices and flowers to muddle your teas. Stews to warm your heart, grain to settle your doubt. Whatever you dream. Whether on sea or land—Honour the tides and the magic that has been bestowed upon you and gorge on the fact that the veils between our world and yours are always one. As the sun stands alone, still in solidarity with itself, relish in the uniting of heaven on the longest day of the year until the flames reach the short end of night and you awake again in the morning—having lived another day.”