The Fall of Moonlight
“The Fall of Moonlight” is the seventh episode in our Genres Not Included flash fiction series. Wouldn’t you know, Eva’s internet went down at 6:24, six minutes until showtime. But the show must go on! The internet service rebounded at 6:29. Some cable guy got lucky. Some cable guy saved the night.
What began as a single paragraph Eva had been toying with for quite some time exploded into a space odyssey of sorts. To Eva’s surprise, Joe began with thoughts on space of his own. Weird how writers connect. Enjoy the story.
I just checked the clock and the thermometer! The thermometer says it is roughly a bazillion degrees! The clock says it is time for #GenresNotIncluded! The Best Typewriter Improv on the Planet!
Welcome the coolest cat this side of Saturn, @EvaNewcastle as she starts this show!
— Joe Nelson, August 2, 2024
Somebody moved the moon overnight while I slept.
Rumor was that the rumble of thunder was the angels bowling. Lightning signaled a strike. Small shifts in orbit were expected. But what celestial body moves the moon thousands of miles, from horizon to overhead, while I dream?
The pale luminance cast through the tender grid of the window was brighter than the memory of the snuffed candle at my bedside.
But it should not have been there.
I recalled my astronomy lessons with young Professor Rossum. He taught me well. Orbits and phases.
Why tonight?
Somebody up there is playing tricks on me. I don’t care what Professor Rossum said. The first rays of Friday, sunlight obscured by astronomical distance, were hours away. I lifted the window screen and leaned out over the ledge.
“Hello?” I called out, softly to cratered orb.
I did not receive a booming reply, much to my sleepy disappointment. But I kept talking. To the celestial body. To myself.
“Why did you wake me up, glorious moon?” I whispered as if speaking from an age long past. “What did you not wish me to miss while I slumbered?”
Forget sports. I sensed more.
The heavens were rearranging the furniture. The universe was cleaning house.
“Hello?” I called out once more.
The cratered orb blinked twice.
I backed away, at first afraid. An inkling. Visceral. I’ve seen those eyes before. I looked again.
Something long buried and quite primeval stirred within me. Those eyes…real or imagined. Heavenly or Hellish. A part of me reacted with loathing and fear, as it would have two thousand years before.
The playground of the stars had shifted. And so had the angle of my universe.
I heard the sound of a bottle breaking, echoing against the pavement.
I saw the first shadows of a ladder — not propped against a wall, a dark figure climbing up and endangering me.
A rope ladder, dropping from a crater. One foot and then another. Thousands descending.
They scurried with swift, rodent-like movements, little feet shuffling down the ladder.
The sound! I thought the movement of the moon enough to stir the tremors, but the scratching of tiny claws and the squeaking of voices in foul spirit drifted toward me and I stood transfixed.
“You’re the ones,” I muttered beneath my breath.
They stopped to listen. I heard my professors voice.
“You’re the ones,” I continued, “who moved the moon closer.”
I looked up at the heavens, splitting. We’d dreamed of planetary adventure. Escaping. But I never imaged this.
They understood me and I knew, given time, I’d understand them as well. They seemed agitated because something was broken. They needed help.
Well, I planned on being an engineer, right?
The moon, dear friends, may not have been made of cheese. But it is full of mice.
Stay Tuned for More