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It began slowly; creeping across the land like a steady flow of spilled syrup, and in its wake the land changed. It burned like fire, a clean flame that crept up hills to spill into the valleys below like a flood. Its spread was inexorable. Everyone knew it could never be stopped. It happened, after all, every day.

People would creep out to see it; the sight would transfix them, and they would stand before it with open arms and let it wash over them. Daily, they would let its cleansing fire touch their skin.

It burned away the fears of the night and of the things that go bump in it. It warmed tired muscles, relaxed knuckles that had turned white, brought hope and vitality to all it touched.

In the wake of the dawn, people basked in the splendour of the sun.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: The Three Word Wednesday prompt this week is “Bump, Knuckle, Transfix”. At first glance, I thought those would be impossible words to work into a story about the Sun, but there they are- with a little allowance for making Knuckle plural!)

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