The moon’s fault

The moon’s fault 

Stories. Mysterious things, they are. Twisting and curving around your thoughts. Tugging at your heart. Playing with your mind. Sticky and damp, they like to keep you uneasy. They like to play with you, feeding you lies and enjoying how your eyebrows stitch into a worried frown. And each time, you have to tell yourself that this is not real. It’s all fantasy. It’s all a lie. And you promise yourself that you won’t believe it. But, ah. You do believe it, don’t you? Stories win every time. They’re invincible. They’re just made that way. See? Now you’re probably feeling a bit scared. I’ll tell you this, and mind you, remember it: One who holds the pen has a terrible power indeed. And even they can’t yield it fully. The stories keep wriggling, squirming, trying to take control of the writer’s heart with their twisted lies. Sometimes, they succeed. But that’s very rare. The writer has enough power to believe it’s a lie. The reader, however, doesn’t have enough power. They can’t override the constant tension in a story. They keep debating wether the words written in these sheets of paper are true or not. Over time, they stop thinking about this. But, rest easy, my dear reader. For you can believe that every word of this story is true.

What? Of course I’m not lying! Why would I? No, I’m not trying to grasp your attention by this. I already know I have it.

Chapter 1

Humans. They have the tendency to overthink things. They take a fact, then they start churning it. They twist it like they do to clay. They make what THEY want to believe out of it. Until the fact, simple and truthful, is something else entirely. And then they believe the fact. They make more things out of it. They twist truths into stories and stories into facts and facts into lies. But, oh well. They’re humans, after all. We can’t expect something else out of them. Though, sometimes, there’s a jewel in between the whole crowd of humans. And that jewel sparkles, like that glint of diamond buried under sand. But enough about humans. This story isn’t about them, anyway. It’s about Aylin, the ‘moon’ as the humans say. Another one of their twisted truths, of course.

Aylin never knew a morning as hasty as that one. She had woken up early, only to find her whole house messy. The neighbours, it seemed, had wanted to play a prank. It took Aylin 1 hour getting the house tidy again. She was going to be late. She knew it. By the time she was outside in her uniform, it was already 11:30, when she was supposed to be there at 10:00. She hoped the night guard wouldn’t tattle to her boss. Her boss was, after all, a dominating and formidable woman. It wouldn’t be a very pleasant visit to her boss if he tattled. She shoved the bread in her mouth and walked to the museum. Aylin was a guard there. She assisted people and checked their bags to insure they weren’t trying to harm others or steal stuff. No one, in the years since she had started working there, had ever tried to harm anyone or steal anything. People here were innocent. After 15 minutes of hurried steps, Aylin reached the museum. She pushed open the doors. Her heart leapt inside her chest. The museum was beautiful. It had marbled tiles and a domed ceiling. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling and soft music played all around. In the middle of the marbled floor was a circular counter. A carpet on the entrance lead to the counter. The walls had small areas where marble statues of great women and men stood. Each of them held a golden rose in one hand. The golden rose: the symbol of this museum. It represented grandness. Aylin sighed. Twenty years of working here yet still she entered the way she had when she first came here with her father. Wide eyed and exhilarated. The grandness never got old. She suddenly realised she was late. She walked towards the circular counter and leaned over its cold surface. The people had to pay a lot of money for an hour of visit here. This museum was robbing the people, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She had learned long ago that those who held money held power. Only once a year that awaited day came when the general public could visit the museum for free. It would be so crowded at that time. Aylin always went with her father then. She dreamed of working here, being able to look at the artefacts whenever she wanted. If she had her way, she would open the doors wide to everyone. Each child could harvest the knowledge pouring from the artefacts here. Each child could learn to be curious. And use curiosity to build their future, bright and shining. But this was all dream. Aylin had told herself that so many times that she now believed it. Aylin broke her train of thoughts and approached the lady. The woman attending the counter looked at her. She cringed. Aylin tried not to get her feelings hurt. She knew why people cringed when they saw her face. It was covered with pimples, after all. Pimples, marks of acne, scars. Everyone made fun of her for that. She had tried hiding that with make-up, but she didn’t do a neat work. In the end, she left make-up entirely. Adding to the pimples was the fact that she had a strangely pale skin. “You’re late.” The woman on the counter said. Aylin blushed. “I had a small problem.” She said. The woman narrowed her eyes. “Boss doesn’t like lateness. She won’t be very happy when she finds out.” She said. This was what Aylin was fearing. “Please. Please don’t tell her, just this once. Please.” Aylin desperately pleaded. The woman shook her head. “No. Thing is, Aylin-” the woman stopped momentarily. She sucked her lips as if tasting something sour in her mouth. She closed her eyes. “Unfortunately, I do not like you.” Her eyes lingered on Aylin’s pimples. “So I won’t save you.” She finished. Aylin’s heart slipped down to her legs stayed there. “Wha-what do you want?” Aylin asked. The woman smiled. “Now, we’re talking.” She said.

Aylin looked at her empty pocket. “Stupid woman.” She thought angrily, remembering how she had to give the money she had been saving for a snack to the counter woman in the morning. She walked carelessly to one of the glass cases and pressed her hand against its cold surface. An ancient manuscript was displayed inside it. Her heart poured memories out and she tasted them. She remembered how she had visited this manuscript with her father and how her father had been proud of her for knowing so much about it. “You’ll have a bright future, Aylin. I know it.” He had told her. Aylin sighed, a sad smile flickering on her lips. Her past memories fluttered around her eyes. She only caught a glimpse of each of them, but a glimpse was all she needed to remember each of them as if it was only yesterday. “Beautiful, wonderful grief.” A cold voice said. She spun around. A thin, lean, woman with grey skin was standing behind her. Her lips stretched into an evil grin. Aylin felt her blood grow cold. Even though she stood far away, Aylin felt her evil breath. She closed her eyes, panting heavily, and searched her thoughts for a happy memory. She felt the woman lick her lips. She ate grief. And when she ate it, she usually left the victim helpless. Fear curved around Aylin’s heart. She felt it strangling her heart. Suddenly, everything went back to how it was. She opened her eyes. Beside the woman stood a little boy. 5, by the looks of it. The boy’s eyebrows were stitched into a fearful frown and he seemed to be shivering. “Wha-what’s going on here?” He asked. “Nothing, kid. Enjoy the museum.” The woman said, walking away. The boy looked suspiciously at Aylin, then shrugged and skipped away. Aylin needed to renew her energy. She needed some curiosity. That was her element: curiosity. Wherever she found it, she drank it. Nobody was harmed, but she felt more energetic every time she drank it. She walked to the next room for a child. For curiosity.

It was dark all around. Her flashlight caused little glints on the glass cases. Aylin whistled a tune as she walked. She cast glances at a few objects, ignored the other. It was 12:00 and Aylin was taking her first round in night duty. She entered a room where the walls were painted midnight blue with purple hues and little specks of white. She smiled. This room, she felt, deserved more attention than it got. The marbled floor held 9 stands. Each of them had a specific distance between each other. On the center, a large stand stood. It supported a work of art: an orange, highly detailed luminous ball which gave off heat. All around it, other bodies stood, though not luminous, they were ‘planets’ or as everyone called them. Aylin walked over to her favourite one, yet the least visited one: a blue sphere with green puzzle pieces scattered all over it. Each night, lights shone on it as if they were alive. She smiled. Below the work of art was a bronze coloured plate, reading:

“Earth.

By Andrew Goshick”

“Andrew Goshick.” Aylin repeated, a fond smile blossoming on her lips. Andrew Goshick was her role model. She hoped that one day, he would see her works. She glanced at ‘Earth’ again. It looked so alive. Her hand itched towards it. She wanted to verify it’s reality. Insure it’s just plastic. But it looked so alive! A touch wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? She hesitated. It might be delicate. She raised her finger to one of its green, lighted plate. She stretched a tensed breath out of the air, and touched it.

~~~~~~~~~

The world shook. As if it was dying. It probably was, Lucy thought. The ground shuddered and gasped and broke into pieces. That night, Lucy thought she would die. Pieces of land crumbled as easily as if they were paper. The world tipped over. Lucy saw the last crumbs of land sinking into the unknown depths of the ocean, as if they were nothing more than pebbles. Lucy heard the piteous cries of the mothers, there soul pierced as they carried the limp bodies of their children. That night, Lucy thought she saw the face of death. Death, or the God. Lucy couldn’t be sure. It was probably death: ugly, scarred and filled with pimples. It looked a bit like the moon. Strangely, the moon didn’t come that night. Maybe it cowered in fear of the tremor. Lucy didn’t know. But the ugly face caused the crumbling and deaths of thousands. It raised its mighty finger and broke the land. Broke the happiness and stability in people’s lives. It was all over. The world was ending, she knew it. And then..... light shone. Lucy felt the last grains of energy crumble and fall. All was silent. Then, she felt herself lifted roughly of the ground. Death? Or a saviour? Sometimes, she couldn’t tell the difference. She opened her eyes. She was ready to see mud, insects crawling around her face. She didn’t think there would be a coffin, though. She was alone in the world. But she wasn’t ready to see what her eyes were forced to see. She wasn’t ready to believe what her heart was forced to believe. And she wasn’t ready to think what her mind was forced to think. Her heart ceased its constant hammering against her ribcage momentarily.

*

Lucy gasped. If she could scream, she surely would’ve. However, she felt it unwise to scream in the present company. Instead, she contented herself with opening her mouth in a sort of silent scream. She wasn’t sure of what to feel. All around her, she could see the universe. But she wasn’t sure if it was the universe. It didn’t look like it was extending farther and farther. It looked as if it was just painted there. Beneath her was a large, marbled floor. Above her were..... lightbulbs? She looked around. All the planets, they were standing on a sort of pedestal. The pedestals were also marble. The designs on the pedestals looked familiar: serpents with flowers on their backs crawling on the pedestal. Now where had she seen it? Lucy couldn’t remember. She suddenly realised she was standing on an odd surface. More like a hand. She followed the hand up to its arm, fear desperately increasing inside her chest. She looked at the face of the giant. Her scream echoed around the painted universe.

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