I love Midsummer. In my part of Sweden, the summer solstice is a Big Deal. This day and night is filled with lore and mystique, and the veil between our world and the unknown is thinner than ever.
My imagination loves this time a year. Growing up, I always imagined fairies dancing in the meadows, and I could almost hear Näcken play in any water nearby.
What? You haven't heard of Näcken? He sits on a rock in any flowing water, playing his violin to lure fair maidens to wade over to him. Then, he kills them and steals their souls.
Young me would keep an eye on the sky as well.
At Midsummer, anything might happen, and maybe this would be the night when the aliens finally arrived. I was clearly in the wrong place, on the wrong planet, with the wrong species. Horrible mixup, that. Surely, my real family would arrive from the stars at any time and bring me home!
Adult me still waits for the aliens and wonders what they will be like. By now I'm biased enough by Hollywood to think the good guys might not be the first ones to reach us, but I still hope.
The heroine of my upcoming sci-fi romance Operation Earth (TBR Aug 11) certainly doesn't expect any aliens to arrive. In her world, rain is the only thing that might ever fall from the sky. Boy is she in for a surprise. Check this out:
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