The Spot Writers – “December 2040” by Phil Yeats

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write a story about the darkness at this time of year. This week’s contribution comes from the pen of Phil Yeats.

In April 2024, Phil published The Body on Karli’s Beach, the third book in his Barrettsport Mysteries, a series of soft-boiled mysteries set in a fictional South Shore, Nova Scotia town. For information about these books,The Road to Environmental Armageddon, his trilogy about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change, and his latest, a novella titled Starting Over Again: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy visit his website: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/.

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December 2040

Phil Yeats

Winter, the season of cold and darkness in our northern land,
When crazy people bundle up, looking like the Michelin Man.
To partake in outdoor activities under the sun’s enfeebled rays
whileothers recline by fires, waiting for the crocuses to bloom.

Once, the wealthy migrated like songbirds to the ‘Sunshine State’
searching for Sol’s warming rays.
But now, that’s nota wonderful choice.
Our great buddy to the south is a friend no longer.

Kevin laughed when he saw the verses on an obscure website in the winter of 2040/41. The United States and Canada were not on friendly terms, but cold, rainy darkness was good for business. Fresh snow was not.

Tonight was a perfect example. He had six Americans, members of two families, in tow. Each had a valid US passport and all their other paperwork in order, but the guards at the border, sealed shut for almost all individual travel, barred their entry. They’d approached Kevin through channels we won’t mention, and passed him a large amount of cash.Now, they were deep in British Columbia’s coastal rainforest, waiting in the dark for Kevin’s business partner, an American people smuggler, to arrive.

They would exchange clients. Kevin’s six Americans for a similar number of refugees escaping the United States. On this night, Kevin with his seven refugees would hike fourkilometres to his vehicle, and drive to the refugee detention centre in Vancouver.

His passengers faced few obstacles because the Canadian government welcomed most people escaping the deteriorating freedoms in the US. And Kevin, if his name came up, was also safe because he’d received no money for transporting these individuals.

“No names,” Kevin said as his passengers clambered into his decrepit-looking people carrier. It was muddy, faded grey, with obscured numbers on its license plate. No one mentioned names, but he learned he had seven well-spoken passengers from twocountries in his van. They were all fluent in English and overjoyed to be on Canadian soil.

He couldn’t say the same for the six Americans he left at the border. They faced a much longer and more arduous hike with patrols that could intercept them before they reached the anonymity of a larger urban area. They were not his problem. He had his payment, and if the American government wanted to refuse reentry to US citizens whose only crime was visiting another country, that was their business. Nothing he did would change any of that.

Three hours later, his tenth trip was in the bag.Kevin wondered what had gone wrong in the United States of America, the world’s richest country and the leader of the free world.In the days twenty years earlier, when he was a foreign university student in Boston,he observed fractured politics with ever-hardening lines been the Democratic and Republican parties, but the country’s carefully constructed democratic framework based on tripartite separation of the political powers seemed up to keeping the country together. Now,a three-term president was running roughshod over everyone, and the consequences looked bleak.

His phone bleeped. A text message from his partner in crime asking when he’d be ready for another exchange. He sighed as he headed home for a well-deserved rest. The Canadian economy was struggling, and the US reeling from its autocratic tendencies, but his people smuggling business was making him wealthy.

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The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

The Spot Writers – “Celestina” by Phil Yeats

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write a story involving a mirror.This week’s contribution comes from the pen of Phil Yeats.

In April 2024, Phil published The Body on Karli’s Beach, the third book in his Barrettsport Mysteries, a series of soft-boiled mysteries set in a fictional South Shore, Nova Scotia town. For information about these books and The Road to Environmental Armageddon, his trilogy about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change, visit his website: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/. He published his latest book, a novella titled Starting Over Again: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy, earlier in 2025.

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“Celestina” by Phil Yeats

Lord Elric stared into the still waters of the lake by which they camped. He saw not his battle-scarred reflection but that of Lexicas, the wizard.

“I salute your mission to slay the traitor Saurus and rescue the fair Celestina and her two handmaids, but beware, trouble awaits inside your castle. Hob has overrun the defenders you left behind,”Lexicas said before his image disappeared. It was replaced by Elric’s.

Celestina crept forward and took Elric’s hand. “Your furrowed brows and the fire in your eyes suggest something’s amiss, but you have a plan.”

“Yes, we must make haste to the castle. We leave immediately.”

That evening, they camped again two hours’ march from Lord Elric’s castle. He was staring into the diminishing evening light when Celestina approached from beside their campfire. “I wish I could have warned you. My stepbrother Hob is not trustworthy. He’s hated me for as long as I can remember. Hob and my father paid Saurus to kidnap me, knowing you’d come to my rescue.”

Lord Elric snorted. “And how were you to warn me?” He placed his arm around her slender shoulders.“But all is not lost. Their treachery is now revealed. Hob’s a worm. By tomorrow night, we’ll have him baited and hooked to trap the real villain. Lord Ranulf. He has no supporters at the king’s court. Ranulf will be exposed as a compatriot of the traitor Saurus. The king will banish him and Hob from the kingdom. They’ll both rot in France.”

“And what will become of his fiefdom?”

A smile softened the harsh lines of scars on Elric’s face. “Surely you know your mother was the king’s cousin, taken and married by Ranulf. Then, when you were but two years old, your mother died under mysterious circumstances. In those days, Ranulf had powerful allies at court, and the king was weaker than he is now. Now the king is strong, and Ranulf’s allies have abandoned him. His fiefdom will be the king’s gift to you when you marry a suitable husband.”

“Like you, my good Lord Elric, we’ll join our two fiefdoms together to make a truly powerful Lordly domain.”

“Yes, my love, that is the plan, but we must play our cards carefully.”

Lord Elric’s advance partydeparted three hours before dawn. Their plan. Gain access to the castle through the escape tunnel built for escaping priests during the religious crises from decades earlier. With luck, they could take Hob’s pack of vermin, unfamiliar with the castle’s secrets, by surprise. Then, when their main force arrived outside the gates at dawn, they could lower the drawbridge and mop up any verminlurking in the shadows.

Lexicas met them outside the root cellar that hid the entry to the priests’ secret access and led them single file through the narrow, low passage. They reached a thick door, and Lexicas inserted a key in the lock before turning to Elric. “You should wait here, sire, while I check that the passage is clear. I’ll signal you if all’s clear.”

A high-pitched whistle signalled the all-clear, and Elric, with his archers and swordsmen right behind him, surged into the passage.“The dungeon?” he asked Lexicas. “Does it contain my loyal defenders, or did Hob’s vermin kill them all?”

“Killed some, but most are in the cells. I dosed the wine Hob’s guards consumed last evening with sleeping potion. They should offer no resistance.”

“And Hob and his henchmen?”

“In your quarters and the adjacent guest rooms, also sleeping off the wine.”

Elric deployed three of his strongest swordsmen to subdue the dungeon guards and free the prisoner, deployed the archers to pick off the defenders on the ramparts when dawn broke, and ledtheir remaining swordsmen to his quarters.

Outside Elric’s door, they encountered two sleepy guards who offered little resistance, and inside they found Hob asleep. Elric raised his sword,preparing for a downward two-handed blow. Lexicas stepped in front of him.

“Wait, my lord. Killing him in his sleep would be murder. He’s more valuable alive as a hostage. Put him in a cell and clear out the rest of his compatriots.”

Elric nodded and stomped from the room, leaving Lexicas to deal with the captives. He’d hated Hob and Ilbert, his father, since they used guile, and some false promises, when the king found himself with a losing hand after an insurrection in France.

Outside, Elric exhorted his archers to attack the defenders on the ramparts as soon as the early morning light was adequate. They’d have the initial advantage, being inside when the defenders expected an attack from the outside. Lexicas dispatched his swordsmen, and those liberated from the cells,to attack thecastle’s defenders in their barracks. Elric led the attack on the gatehouse, the prize they must win.With luck, the battle would be over before Celestina and his remaining fighters arrived outside the gates.

Elric with four swordsmen and six loyal serfs armed with battle clubs and daggers, for the noise from the attacks on the defenders on the ramparts to draw the defenders in the gatehouse from their lair. When the battle for the ramparts began, they surprised the first four defenders and cut them down without trouble. Several others retreated into the guardhouse, but couldn’t bar the door before Elric’s men were upon them. They were seriously outnumbered and laid down their weapons without a fight, leaving Elric in control of the gatehouse.

The sun was high in the sky when Elric and his trusty warriors flushed the last of Hob’s invaders from their holes. Some died fighting, others surrendered and joined their compatriots in the crowded cells. Elric retired to his rooms relieved in the understanding he’d survived his first challenge since his father died. He’d left too few fighters to defend the castle, but they’d been able to take the invaders by surprise and win the day.

He could now doff his fighting clothes and don more ceremonial attire in preparation for a feast to honour his loyal knights and welcome the fair Celestina to his castle. He gazed into the looking glass, ran his finger down the most prominent of his battle scars and wondered if she could ever truly love anyone so ugly.

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The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/