A Midsommar Awakening

l understand. He's always been patient with me.

Dani picked up her phone and sent a text. Moments later, it rang.

"Hey! Um... Sorry, I know you're busy with the guys right now... Uh-huh... You're with Josh at CPK... And Mark? Oh, well, say hi to them for me... No, it's nothing... I'll tell you later. OK, see you tonight."

Later that night, Christian and Dani sat on his couch, their bodies close together, though Christian visibly flinched when she leaned against him. Dani threw furtive glances his way, inhaling slowly, ready to speak. She stopped herself short.

"Are you still going to Sweden?" she finally asked.

"Yeah," Christian said matter-of-factly. "I promised Pelle. He's been asking us to come for some kind of midsummer festival that only happens every ninety years. It's kind of a big deal in his village."

"Right," Dani said. "I only—well, I thought about coming, too." As she spoke the last words, her face grew pale. Terri... Mom and Dad are coming, too...

Christian couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was determined to go. Without her.

"Look," he managed, "it's just gonna be a guys' trip. Besides, I promised Josh I'd help him research for his thesis. He wants to write about this community—'Harga,' or whatever they're called. Pelle knows a few people and can get us the inside scoop on their rituals."

Dani chuckled nervously. "I like rituals. It can't be that bad. I mean, I hear the Swedish countryside is beautiful, and the people are friendly. But if you don't want me to go, I'll—"

"Dammit, Dani! This is what I'm talking about. You're like a storm cloud lately. Your parents and sister are gone, yeah. It sucks, and I'm sorry, but I've been planning this trip for—" Christian caught himself. He knew it wasn't the time to be frank.

He'd been planning his escape for months, ever since Dani had stopped sleeping with him. Each time, she'd chalk it up to a headache, but he didn't buy it. Now, fantasies of Swedish women played like a soundtrack in his head, distracting him from his own research. He smiled to himself, picturing the bulging backpack in his room, all packed for his fairytale escapade.

He also knew the inevitable outcome. Days later, despite everything, the four of them boarded a thirteen-hour flight to Stockholm. Dani spent half the journey darting in and out of the restroom, thanking the engine's droning hum for drowning out her sobs.

Pelle greeted them at the airport and whisked them away in his car. Dani took in the surroundings, blinking at the penetrating, perpetual daylight that seemed to cast shadows everywhere. She couldn't escape them—Terri's image hijacked every shadow, every moment of quiet.

The weight of the flight and the past week caught up with her as she leaned against Christian's shoulder. He let it slide but rolled his eyes at Mark, who nodded and quietly scoffed.

"Here we are!" Pelle chirped, stopping the car in a clearing where three people waited: Simon and Connie from the UK, along with Pelle's brother Ingmar.

"Welcome, friends!" Pelle said. "Christian, you remember Simon and Connie? They're good friends of mine."

"Hello, mate," Simon said, extending his hand to Christian. "This is my fiancée, Connie."

"Nice to meet you," Connie said. "Pelle has been telling us about you, and—"

"They're engaged!" Pelle chimed in. "My brother and I couldn't be happier for them." He tapped Ingmar on the shoulder. "Ingmar here is going to officiate."

"This calls for a celebration. Look what I've got!" Pelle retrieved a handful of mushrooms. Josh and Mark immediately grabbed some. Christian nudged Dani, who stared off into the distance.

"Oh... uh, yeah, I'll try some. Just... not too much, OK?"

"Dani's not really into shrooms," Christian said. Or fun, for that matter, he muttered under his breath.

Pelle motioned everyone toward his car. "OK, let's go to my house! We don't want to miss the Attestupan!"

The compound looked like an elaborate greenhouse—sparsely furnished but adorned with beautiful tapestries. Christian's eyes fixed on a painting of a redhead offering a crimson-tinted pie and glass of juice. He flung his backpack onto the floor next to a mattress.

Outside, an elongated dining table stood laden with bread, herring, meat in aspic, meat pies, and scattered vegetables.

"It's like they're trying to make the food gross," Mark said, wrinkling his nose.

Josh calmly scanned the other guests. Two empty chairs stood at the head of the table. Pelle gestured toward Ylva and Dan, a couple in their mid-seventies walking along a narrow path. They nervously acknowledged the group with a nod before sitting down.

The air filled with eerie clinking of silverware. Ylva and Dan solemnly rose as Ylva began chanting in Swedish. Dan responded with his own chant and slow, rhythmic breathing. Ylva's chanting became faster, more haunting. Dan hummed in response.

The two crossed their arms and drank from each other's shot glasses, then sank back into their chairs. Four attendants promptly hoisted the chairs, and Dani clung to Christian's arm as the group followed them up a rocky, moss-covered mountain.

Dan and Ylva followed their attendants toward a cliff, ceremoniously holding out their palms. They each left bloody handprints on rune-decorated stones and stepped toward the cliff's edge.

Ylva looked past the cliff with fear and resignation. She leaped forward, her body crashing onto the rocks below. Dan followed, his leg buckling under him. The Harga joined his cries of agony before finishing him with a sledgehammer.

Connie and Simon retreated in horror while Josh lunged forward to snatch scripture from Pelle's hands. Christian slowly retreated from Dani, his vision growing blurry as two women—Inge and Siv—steadied his balance.

Siv, the village matriarch, spoke softly of upcoming May Day celebrations, mentioning she would need both Christian and Dani's help. Dani listened nervously, but Christian's eyes glazed over as he drifted along.

Suddenly, three brunettes in flowing sky-blue dresses whisked Dani away. The tallest, Ulla, offered Dani a thimble brimming with liquid. She gulped down her own, prompting Dani to follow suit. The girls ran into the meadows, giggling and chattering in their own secret language.

Meanwhile, Christian found his limbs growing languid as he rose from Siv's chair and followed Björn, the village elder, into a hut. Björn handed him a white robe adorned with runes and held up a miniature chalice. As if on command, Christian inhaled the steam and took the robe.

Maja waited for him, naked, in a bed of flowers. A group of older women surrounded them. As they began humming, Christian found himself moving toward Maja. He clasped her hands, kissing her on the mouth. The women's humming grew louder as Christian moved above her.

Maja gasped as he entered her, moving slowly at first, then faster as the women continued their chant. The older women, sensing Christian's reluctance, hissed at him to continue. He shuddered and recoiled as Maja triumphantly whispered that she could feel the baby.

In that moment, Dani ran past the hut. The humming and moaning drew her closer, soon drowned out by her own wailing. The three girls quickly clutched her and joined in, dragging her back to the meadows. They plied her with more thimbles of liquid before entering a frantic trance with a throng of other girls.

Dani's vision blurred as she spun faster and faster. She sensed the others either collapsing or backing away. Pelle swept her into his arms, giddily declaring her the May Queen.

Near the hut, Christian raced past grotesque displays: Simon's lifeless body disfigured into the form of an eagle, Connie's limp form tangled with swamp water, Josh's body gone except for one leg emerging from a flower pot. Someone wearing Mark's face walked past him, grimacing.

Christian felt himself collapsing. When he came to, he sat in a chair, his limbs refusing to obey. Voices formed a jumbled wall of sound except for his name as the elder called out: "Christian Hughes."

He opened his eyes in a tent, surrounded by six others and two effigies. Ingmar sat across from him, flanked by what looked like rag dolls of Connie and Simon. Tears filled Ingmar's eyes as he looked at Connie's effigy and reached for it.The elder whispered a chant and lit a match.

Outside, the villagers waited with bated breath, soon echoing the screams from inside the tent. Dani looked on in silence, her face breaking into a smile that seethed with agony, grief, and a glimmer of acceptance. The Harga were her family now, her subjects.

Dani jolted awake in her childhood bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs. Sweat soaked through her old college t-shirt as she gasped for air, the phantom smell of burning flesh still clinging to her nostrils. The familiar cream walls and faded movie posters came into focus—nothing like the flower-crowned horror of her nightmare.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Christian: Hey babe, just wanted to check in. I know today's rough. Call me when you're ready.

Today. The anniversary. She glanced at the calendar hanging crooked on her door—June 21st circled in red ink. It has been one year since the accident that took her parents and Terri. One year since the real nightmare began, not in some Swedish cult compound, but in a sterile hospital waiting room where she'd learned the meaning of true loss.

Dani pulled her knees to her chest, still shaking. The dream had felt so vivid, so real—Christian's betrayal, the village's twisted rituals, her own transformation into something she didn't recognize. But here in her quiet apartment, with morning light filtering through normal curtains and the distant hum of traffic below, she could almost laugh at her subconscious mind's elaborate theater of grief.

She reached for her phone to call Christian back. He'd been patient with her this whole year, even when she pushed him away, even when her grief made her impossible to love. Maybe it was time to stop punishing them both. Maybe it was time to let someone help carry the weight of missing her family.

The Harga had been her tormented mind's invention, but Christian—difficult, flawed, human Christian—was real. And he was still here.