Dancing Lights

By Krystyna Fedosejevs

“We must leave,’ the mother advised her young son.

“Will we see Father again?” he asked.

“Yes. Your grandfather too.”

At a certain hour close to sunset, they would walk a stony path up a hill. Reach the summit overlooking their countryside community. Pay their respects to loved ones by a tall wooden cross.

As they huddled atop, white swirls of light spun against the deepening blue sky in front of them.

“Oh!” screamed the boy.

“Shhh,” the mother cautioned. “We must not anger the spirits of your father and grandfather. They are dancing wildly tonight; much energy in the aurora.”