The Dead Sun

The Dead Sun

“… there comes to light the existence

of two particularly differentiated categories

of men – the saved and the drowned.”

Primo Levi

Before the Dead Sun, there was peace. But peace never comes for free, they say. The price of peace was that every year they’d celebrate June 24th the same way. First, they picked one of us. As far as we know, it was a random choice. They gave the chosen one the heart-shaped locket and a pair of running sandals and told him to run as fast as he could. But even the fastest of us couldn’t compete with their horses and their ropes. I guess if one of us managed to get to the woods, we’d have a chance, but in 25 years I’ve never seen anybody get even close. They’d drag the chosen one back to the main square. The priest came and thrust a knife between his ribs. In four or five quick strikes he managed to get the heart of the chosen one in his hands and raise it, still throbbing, while they cheered. Then, the heart was cleaned and marinated for three hours in a mixture of lime, salt, garlic, onions, parsley, chives, and green peppers – the same mixture we use to cook everything else. For two hours they’d cook it in the big wood oven, basting it with a mixture of beer and lime as to keep the heart moist and tender. The priest sliced it so thin it looked like paper, and every one of them had their individual slice with a tiny cup of red wine.

Since the Dead Sun came, none of us wear the heart-shaped locket or the running shoes. We don’t celebrate June 24th. In fact, we lost track of time. I am not even sure what month it is right now.

None of them stayed. They left shortly before the Dead Sun. The priest gathered everyone at the main square and told us: “Don’t lose your faith. Pray and wait for us. I promise we’ll be back. Everything will be back to normal. There will be peace. Don’t you worry.” He sounded calm and composed, but behind him we could see them working in such a hurry. They loaded wagon after wagon with clothes, food, and furniture, meticulously emptying every house. I don’t think they are planning ever to come back. How could they?

Then the Dead Sun came. The ones who dared to open a door or window, even just a little bit, were wiped out instantly. Whole families were left rotting away inside their homes. There was nothing we could do about it. Few of us survived. We starved until we could barely walk. To tell you the truth I was so hungry and thirsty I wasn’t thinking straight at the end. We’d been drinking our own piss and eating scraps for weeks. Some of us even ate bits from each other: bits of skin, toes, and fingers mostly. When the Dead Sun left, the dead were reduced to dust and bones and we the few survivors were wasted away.

I was the first to cross the square and go into their houses. I hoped I could find something to eat, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so empty. I moved from one house to the next and they were all the same: just dusty emptiness. The Dead Sun must have incinerated whatever they left behind. But the river was clean, and the water tasted fresh. The woods also seemed intact. That very first day out I spotted the first wolf coming from the woods. There are lots of them now. But as long as we watch our kids and keep whatever food we can find inside the house at night it’s all right now.