Eclipse Gold
Once upon a time, in a kingdom not too far away, a total solar eclipse was a once-every-decade affair, and it was a big deal. For long ago, a powerful sorcerer casted a charm over their land, so that during those minutes while the moon set about devouring the sun, if you allowed the fading sunlight to shine through some small pinhole just so, the bright little crescents of light would become crescents of pure gold.
The problem was, of course, that the kingdom had been, for many years, shrouded in a thick yellowish grey haze that smelled sharply of burnt plastic, and while anyone could stare straight at the midday sun, it had been many years since anyone was able to cast a crisp enough shadow to conjure that enchanted gold.
Well, almost anyone. Because there were the rich that could afford to live perched atop the stalagmite-like towers that shot straight over the clouds, above the heavy chokehold of the industrial smog. Theirs was a life of crisp cold air and even crisper shadows.
The astronomers predicted that another eclipse was coming, and at the designated time the folks on the ground gathered outside to watch the sun disappear. A few hopefuls held colanders over the ground and looked for glitter to appear, but as usual there was barely any shadow to be cast at all. As the sun disappeared and chilled the earth, the people rubbed their shoulders, put their colanders away and shook their heads.
Suddenly, from above, a man crashed so hard onto the pavement that his body was dashed to pieces. His hoodie was dyed red by his blood and his black athletic slides were found far from where he landed, as was a mangled gold colander. Various tiny gold crescents were found as well, stuck in people’s hair, caught in trees and on window ledges. One was found inside a hot dog bun, one was found tangled in a poodle’s fur, a couple others on the metro tracks, and years later another was discovered in a raven’s nest next to a set of diamond cufflinks.
No one knew exactly what made the very rich man fall from such heights, his mighty technology company made sure it was impossible to gossip about his death on the internet. But it was whispered that he had gone out to the very top of his building where the light was best and the air was the clearest, and was casting hundreds of crescent gold pieces when a great gust of wind took him right over the ledge.
That day, people who lived below were a little less miffed about missing out on the eclipse gold. They all felt like recipients of the sorcerer’s gift.