December 18th, 2024

Aye. The pilgrim nodded and the tender turned around and began to carefully pour the amber liquid into the cup. He handed it to the pilgrim who put it to his lips and drank. He put his head on the bar and closed his eyes and ruminated. He thought of the provenance of this fimbulwinter and of now ceaseless folly. Of the unending nights and the moribund whose husked and hollow bodies lined the streets, their desiccated mouths agape to speak a last entreaty to a deaf company. Of the sough of the wind which howled through stone and steel; where no living thing longer stirred but shadow. Men ran wild as animals and animals lay dead as men. The pilgrim slowly began to drowse before he felt a hand which nudged his right shoulder and he raised his head and saw the old Amish before him.