Now is the solstice, the darkest night of the year. We don’t think about it much, living in cities the way we do, and in houses with electricity so night does not hold the terror it once did. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except I’ve got so many new age star gazers and wiccans at various degrees of taking it seriously on my Facebook page that there have been posts galore.
It’s true, though. Night time is scary. Most horror films takes place at night. It’s Night of the Living Dead, because Mid-Morning of the Living Dead just doesn’t quite have that same ring to it. It’s Nightmare on Elm Street because Daydream on Elm Street sounds like a romcom, and not a particularly good one.
Darkness is scary. You can’t see what’s behind the next tree and what’s behind the next tree might kill you.
In Northern Climes, where the sun is gone completely this time of year, it would have been even more terrifying, and not just because of impaired vision. What if the Sun didn’t come back? This is back before anybody knew what the Sun was, mind you, and when you believe that the sun is a super being in the sky riding around in a chariot or something, I don’t know, maybe the Norse God of the Sun rode on a reindeer, which would explain some things, then it’s pretty easy to believe that he got pissed off with the other gods and buggered off to another part of the world all together, and you and everybody you knew were looking at certain death.
You would be pretty darn relieved after a couple of days, when the Sun started to poke it’s nose out again. You might even drink some mead. Start a fire. Sing. Go nuts and drag a tree up to the cave and start decorating it. That mead is strong stuff.
Birthday of Christ, my ass.