An Unexpected Eclipse

OVERALL CONTENT WARNING: MATURE LANGUAGE, RELIGIOUS CULTS, MENTIONS OF MASS SUICIDE, ALLUDED DEATH...ETC.

Night is close. You strain with the effort of lugging your gear and telescope up towards the plateau you've chosen, quasi-hopeful this one will offer you a prime, uncrowded platform. And, you hope, no jail time.

Something’s not right in the sky. Hasn’t been right for weeks.

In fact, it’s so awe-inspiring - yet also so concerning and unusual - that it's all the media has covered for the last month straight. Naturally, hysteria has erupted across the planet. So too, though, has curiosity.

Seemingly, an eclipse has occurred when none was expected. One that no one anticipated. One that - notably - hasn’t moved in all these weeks. Most ominously, one that has been blocking out a section of the Sun's light for around a month. The Moon's too - it's been there, day and night, 24/7. To you, it has been almost eerie; the once-familiar, fairly predictable sky is now suddenly and horrifically foreign, with no indication things will go back to how they were.

Not only does it not move, but it is surrounded by a disconcerting red hue that makes the hair on your arms stand up when you glance up at it. Makes you freeze in awe.

Articles and reports have surged into the media positing all manner of ideas about what is causing the unexpected eclipse, but no one seems to agree on what it is - or what is happening and why it's happening.

Religious zealots claim, "the end is nigh!" or "the gates of Heaven/Hell are open!" - their usual, go-to delusional bullshit. The most extreme examples are the half-dozen cults publicly known to have committed mass suicide in recent weeks, convinced this event was a calling for them to "join their maker" or a signal of "end times" where it was seemingly better to die by their own design than what was presumably coming. Other foolish suggestions include portals, extraterrestrials, or elaborate, but implausible government cover-ups. It's these types of people who have been driven into widespread hysteria and chaos. The media is rife with interviews with doomsday peppers in their bunkers, alien abduction stories, and self-proclaimed psychics.

You prefer not pretending to know what is happening, especially without any evidence of this being anything other than a strange cosmic occurrence that is simply not yet explained. It could be a thousand measurable things before it's any of the nonsense the media and pulpits have spread far and wide.

Scientists, on the other hand, can't agree on what is causing the eclipse; is it another moon; planet; consolidated space debris? How is a presumed celestial body completely still after an entire month? Particularly one never documented somewhere between Earth and the Sun? It isn't how physics or celestial bodies are known to work. The longer it draws on, the more the event raises more scientific questions. And it raises far more questions than it answers.

You've heard time and again that this might be the planet Vulcan: a small, fast planet somewhere between Mercury and the Sun, long since relegated to the land of mythos. Those who make the claim point out the red hue, and to calculations estimating the small celestial body to be closer to the Sun than to Mercury - a body where Vulcan was thought to be. It seems the most plausible explanation you've heard, though no one has put forth a solid theory as to why a supposed planet is suddenly stationary.

But no one knows. No one knows why it's happening. No one knows when it may end - or if it will end. There is no known precedent for this.

You've tried multiple times prior to tonight to get a good glimpse through your telescope, to see for yourself the details of this mysterious celestial body. But, of course, everyone else has had the same desire; every attempt you’ve made to witness this eclipse with your gear in the last few weeks, the parking alone was a frenzy; there was simply no room. Crowds have flocked to every conceivable viewing area the public can reach. Entire encampments have sprung up worldwide, forming a strange, month-long festival and watch party.

So you’re going where the public can’t go.

You check your map once more, extensively; as darkness grows, you can't risk using your lights or electronic devices that might give off light, or you'll likely get caught where you're not supposed to be. Your pulse climbs as you near the plateau - maybe half a mile from your current location. The reddish flaring of the event intrudes into the night sky, stretching the last of the light.

You pick your way through the dry, summer brush, wincing as stout branches scrape along the body of your telescope. A cold gulp of water from your supplies helps steady you as you approach a chain link fence, the "Government Property" and "Restricted Access" signs posted all over it a foreboding sight; you've never wandered into such an area before, and definitely not deliberately.

The telescope is the biggest hurdle; you'll have to find a way over the fence with the telescope. You extend your backpack straps as far as they will go, wedging the object into the straps. You swing the backpack over one arm, but immediately realize you can't get your other arm into its strap.

The rope!

Next, you pull out the length of rope you have in your pack. You readjust the backpack straps, then make a questionable harness for the telescope from the rope. Satisfied enough for an attempt, you scale the chain link fence, careful to clear the barbed wire at the top; again, your telescope scrapes by. The makeshift harness holds.

You're in.

You aren’t the first person to try and witness the cosmic event from government land - several dozen others across the world have dared to cross onto restricted land, and each has paid a price for it. Trespassing alone would earn you a hefty fine. Thousands of dollars. Possibly jail time.

Is this worth the risk?

You decide it is; you've been trying and waiting with no idea how long you'll have the chance to. And you're here now anyway. You press on, aching from dragging your telescope along. Soft dirt gives way as you climb; you slip several times, though you remain largely unharmed - little more than scrapes and bruises.

Eventually, you reach the top.

Your nerves have gone into overdrive during this adventure; every breeze, you think you hear voices; every stick breaking is, to you, security patrolling. You half-expect to get caught at any second as you quickly set up your telescope.

And then you finally get your first real look at the anomaly.

You see the intensely deep, crimson red, not just of the ring of light flaring from behind it, but of the cratered object itself. The flaring extends far further than what you've seen with your naked eye, either enhanced that greatly using the telescope or they've grown in intensity...

You soon tune into a meteorologist you've been listening to since the event began, keeping the volume low on your portable radio. It makes you feel less alone, even though you know the radio might give you away on the restricted land.

'In for a penny, in for a pound', as the saying goes.

"-uning in now, I've been getting a lot of messages that these flares from the eclipse seem to be extending further. Now, if this is anything like solar flares, this could potentially knock out communications worldwide. We're talking power grids and everything attached to them: internet, phone services, household appliances. This has been a concern even before this event started; regular solar flares are and have always been a concern. But the reports say these are very prominent flares, so if you've been following the advice of experts lately, you should follow their advice and gather your emergency kits. It is important that we not panic, even if electronic communications suddenly cease; go to community areas, gather at capitols - anywhere you can get to with community, because if electronic communications go down-"

A giant flare, extending far enough you can see it with your naked eye, appears. It lingers longer than you've seen most flares in the past, and as it peaks and flutters away, your radio suddenly cuts off. You pull your phone out, use your jacket as a light barrier, and try to use the flashlight on your phone to examine the radio.

Your phone doesn't react. You try restarting it, but the screen remains black.

Shit.

You only summited the plateau maybe an hour ago, but you decide to try to head back, unsettled by the meteorologist's topic and the subsequent cut-off of your tech. You pack as fast as you can in the dark, fumbling with gear in the low, red-tinged glow of the eclipse. You remake the rope harness for your telescope, then begin heading back to the fence.

Halfway over the fence, precariously air-straddling the barbed wire, a flashlight lands on you from the restricted side of the fence.

"Stop! Security! You are trespassing on government land!" a burly, shadowed mass calls out. Your heart races as you drop to the ground on the clear side and begin rushing down to the trail, tripping frequently and getting caught on branches you can't see well enough. You hear the man speaking into a radio repeatedly; he realizes it isn't working. You hear metal keys jangling, then the gate being manually opened.

He begins to pursue you.

You become aware that the barbed wire snagged both jean and flesh; you can feel the cuts on your right ankle. You trip again, and though you catch and correct yourself, the violent jarring that occurs knocks your telescope loose; it clatters to the ground behind you, lenses popping out, before it rolls under you. This time, you can't catch yourself, and you land on your back, head hitting a rock with a sickening sound and an explosion of pain.

The security guard doesn't find you; you hear him heading in the opposite direction, steps fading away. The irony is that you suddenly want him to find you; something went terribly wrong when you fell. Your body doesn't seem to want to respond well and you know you need medical attention. You can't get up.

The cry you try to utter comes out gargled and unidentifiable. The guard doesn't hear you, and the pain in your head is excruciating. Your fingers struggle to find your phone in your jean pocket, and even as you bring it close, the screen remains black, the phone unusable. The temperature has dropped - not bad enough to be concerned about if you could move, but as you lie prone on your back in the dirt and rocks, the cold sinks in deeply. It worsens with the spread of the blood from what must be a head wound to the back of your skull.

So you lie, gazing at the blood-red anomaly in the sky. Wondering what it is.

Wondering if it's the last you'll see, this beautifully unsettling thing.

Wondering if this was worth the risk after all...

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Here are a few other dark short stories I've written that I feel could use more views:

"Jaguar Eyes" - Justice in the jungle. Dark, mature themes, written before content warnings were added to Vocal.

"Three Shots" - A hesitant hitman carries out a final hit. Dark, mature themes. A Runner-up in the "Last Call" challenge.

"Lake Spawn" - Lake monsters attack divers. Dark themes, written before content warning labels were added to Vocal.