By Rebecca Monterusso
No one believed me when I said the moon disappeared. They said it went behind a cloud. That it would be back. It always came back.
“Not this time.” But insisting didn’t work.
The more I talked, the less they listened. Parents. Friends. Teachers. Even the newscasters. Aren’t they supposed to be investigative journalists in search for the truth?
“Not when it comes from a rather rambunctious twelve-year-old,” they said. Why should they believe someone who hadn’t proven their place in the world yet?
But the signs were clear. No one could ignore them for long. Tides were no longer rising and falling. The climate rapidly changed from one extreme to the next. Earth’s axis was slightly off, which changed the way the sun shone during the day. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.
That led to investigations. Followed by double checking because no one believed the findings at first. A giant hole where the moon was supposed to be? Impossible.
They used to say if Earth were even an inch further from the sun, the whole planet would freeze. Turns out the bigger issue was, without the moon, Earth had no way to stabilize its ecosystems and climate.
Since no one could really point to the exact moment it happened (without acknowledging the intelligence of a twelve-year-old), they only estimated the amount of time it would take before we all died, which made it worse.
Mom said, “Lots of babies are probably being made.” But who knows what that means because the babies wouldn’t get to see the world anyway. Or, if they did, they would wish they hadn’t.
Normal doomsday events took place in the aftermaths. It was just like how you’d expect, but somehow worse. Sights were easier to digest because we’ve been subjected to them in movies. Raided stores. Closed off houses. Utter chaos.
It’s the sounds you can’t imagine. Nothing was quiet. There was a dull scream at all times of day and night coming from somewhere just outside your reach. You never knew where exactly the scream was to try and stop it. Not that you could help anyway.
And no one showed any kindness in the wake of real tragedy, no matter what the movies tell you. That expectation was almost worse than the truth. Hope usually is.
Mom said the rich were lucky. They had the money to buy their way off the planet in hopes of starting a new home somewhere. Dad reminded her that there wasn’t anything out there to get to, so they might not be that lucky.
“Who knows, they might die before the rest of us,” he said over dinner the seventh night since the moon vanished.
“Stop. You’ll scare the children,” Mom reminded him. But he didn’t. When the world is about to end, it’s hard to be scared anymore. Even for a twelve-year-old.
In any case, the news reported that the rich weren’t luckier. Dad was right. There was nowhere to go in space. Not even the secret government places they’d been hiding from the rest of us but weren’t afraid to talk about now. They’ll slowly run out of air, desperately searching for somewhere to go. The extra hope, the potential for survival, is deadlier than staying here. Probably.
We, on the other hand, suffered through crazy hurricanes and wild snowstorms bordering on a new ice age. Each day worse than the next.
Rumor had it, there was a group somewhere working on a solution. They said, “We’d survive this yet. The human race had been through worse.” Apparently.
On the bright side, news stations started reporting only happy news. It was the only thing on in the house. Mom wanted to hear the moment they announced that someone really was coming to save us all. Unfortunately, I think the movies had that wrong too.
I decided that instead of the news, it would be more beneficial to keep an eye out for the moon.
Who else would be able to say they’d seen it disappear and reappear? Not that they’d believe me when it came back, anyway.
So, I watched and waited. Fingers crossed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cool. I’d be tempted to go whole hog and make the story second person point of view. You are halfway there now, and I think it would work well.
Thanks! I’ve never written in second person before, but maybe now I’ll play with it.
Sometimes we take the moon for granted. I wonder where it went?
I totally agree, though I’m not sure where it went in this story. It just came to me as a what if question.
I really like this! It’s such an interesting idea for an apocalypse situation.
Thank you so much!
Great story! Thanks for sharing. I think I know where the moon might have gone. It’s an old spaceship: Hollow, 400 times smaller than the sun and 400 times closer, rings like a bell when something hits it, has an unusual circular orbit, and is gravity-locked so it faces Earth at all times, hiding the entrance. The aliens got bored, fixed it up and sailed away. Their loss. They’ll miss us. :)
Thanks, Talmage! I love it. Looking forward to your story about that moon.
This could be the inciting incident for a longer story, if you feel like revisiting that wirld.
I hadn’t thought of that, Larry. I struggle with longer work or seeing my stuff from a perspective different than my own. Thanks for the suggestion and added clarity.
I agree Larry. There’re already some progressive complications and it could go anywhere, Society even. Imagine the Moon as a disciplinarian tyrant and humans being oppressed. The protagonist might lead a non violent revolution that started humans getting their s#@&% together so they could have the moon return.
Great way at showing all the ways the Moon is required for life on Earth, but we take it for granted. What other things in God’s creation also escape our notice? I also like the angle of a young girl being the only one who remembers it. It’s a story within a story.
Thank you so much! I’m attached to this smarty pants narrator who is sort of a know it all. That’s a great point: that we take so many things for granted, and a great place to explore story ideas.