Fallen

You know of the girl in the moon right? That’s a question I hear by my bedside. Every so often. Nearly every night.

The room goes quiet and still or so I’ve been told because that’s how the story goes.

The girl in the moon was lonely. She was sad. She wept every night. Only to be revealed in the darkness. She stirred the sea. A bit of her lies in all of us. Every night she lies by me.

The girl in the moon isn’t fictional anymore. The girl in the moon lives with us. Quiet by the shore. The girl in the moon isn’t the one that many used to know. The girl in the moon remains in sight.

And so the question repeats only to be told, memorized, night after night. You know of the girl in the moon right? Well she wasn’t always so lonely. She had a family, but they went on. The only thing left behind was a heart-shaped locket. So she held it tight.

But one night. Distraction hit. A sorrowful night. Remorse, no more moon to guide our seas. Only to have a moon within.

‘ But what does that mean?’ I used to ask.

‘ Oh sweety.’The wind used to whisper. ‘ I’ve repeated myself too many times. You should listen when told.’

But the wind told me anyway.

That night the girl in the moon became distracted with life on earth. Too captivated by it, too isolated by eternal solitude. The girl in the moon lost it. She lost her locket and it drove her mad. Madder than she had ever been without a mother, sisters, brothers, and even a dad. She knew her role and she knew it great, but she could not function without it and she began to let go.

Doing the undeniable, she fell. Into the earth, away from the yearning, creating a hell.

That night the girl in the moon rose. Onto the shore. A quiet sea. Quiet as the girl. But even in silence, the world still weeped. The moon fell, killing 34% percent of the planet, damaging the rest. Leaving all those left alive to a state of unrest. So the bridges went down. Cars too. The buildings went down and the people too. So everything man built was wiped. Things left in ruin, hanging on to perseverance. Desperate to preserve one’s self. But the struggle trapped many into their own hell.

The moon fell and after the satellites and after destruction, the world was quiet. Quiet with worry, with anger, and with fury. They had lost a lot. Their loves and all. The moon fell, killing 35% of the planet. That was the initial hit. But the aftermath costed more than one could imagine. For the ones left injured would soon perish. So really, when the moon fell it didn’t take out 35%, it took out 66.

And when the moon fell I was 3, left on my own. So the moon and I became one. I was just as lonely as she.

That’s what gets told to me before I fall to sleep, so when I wake from the touch of the moon. I see her staring back at me. She’s quiet and she makes me afraid. Way more than when I fight in the wild of the day.

But she disappears and the earth revolves and soon, in life, I wake.

The wet grass consoles me. The wind tickles and assists in the movement in the grass. It’s kind of scratchy, it wakes me up.

I look out and see the view. Towers fallen? Check. Wires broken? Check. Cars left out in the road, out in the open? Check. I get up and pick out the leaves in my hair. Unscramble the shirt I took. It’d be considered stolen, by definition. Only if time was still taking place 20 years ago. But it isn’t and the mall? Yes, that is what they called it. That’s what the sign, tattered, said. The mall was deserted by people, but still in it’s ways, full of life. I grabbed what I could take from that rare, standing place.

Enough of that. I think to myself. Stand up. Stretch. There’s nothing more to be done, you’ve filled up your hours you require for sleep. I watch my feet as I wander. Careful of twigs and rocks. They’re just as painful as.. What was it called? The sharp pointy thing? Oh. Glass. They’re just as painful as glass when touched the wrong way.

I slept by the tree. Bigger than me. Aged centuries way beyond me. The branches curve low to the floor. Perfect hiding place, they cover me.

Away from the tree, I go. I walk miles, searching. There has to be water around here. Life needs water. It’s far, but still I go.

I count the cars covered in vines. I count the towers, close to falling. I count the piles of rubble. I count them all. No matter how many seem identical. I count them all. I consider them collections. They all fit together, never straying too far apart. Some cars, I’ve learned are big and some small. Some look very intriguing, intricate but are tight fit. I’ve slept in some, they aren’t all great. They smell foul and make me wonder what they’re were supposed to smell like. The people I used to gather with said the new car smell was the best. That may have been true, but these cars aren’t new. They’re old. Older than me I bet. I don’t remember my age, but the last time I checked I was 12. It hasn’t been that long. I can’t be no more than 17, no less than 13. I stop in my tracks to really think. That’s it. I must be 16.

I pick up the pace and walk a bit more. There’s a lake. It looks as if it is deserted, but I know to be more careful. ‘ Fish used to swim and could be seen at the top.’ An old voice repeats.

‘ But not anymore.’ I said back to them, a question and a statement. A question and a statement that I now think. Fish swim at the bottom and come to the top when they feel a touch. That’s why I’ve learned to only go to where I float and never feel the bottom of the lake with my feet.

‘ Everything in nature that was calm turned violent.’ The old voice said. A shutter followed with a twang of mournful nostalgia. ‘ It’s unnatural.’

‘ I thought this was natural.’ I’d say, keeping everything I’d seen registered as a fact.

‘ Oh sweety.’ The voice would chuckle,in tune with the wind. ‘ You wouldn’t know much about it. But the world wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was grand. But now.’ A sigh would interrupt. ‘ But now it’s like this.’

‘But this is all I’ve known’ I think, but the words didn’t exit my lips so there’d be no need for a repeat. And so like the days that moved on, the conversation would cease to exist. Trapped in our memories, but with the person. Gone.

So then the ritual commences and into the lake I go. Distanced from the bottom, far from what lurks below. The water cool at first, shuns me. But after a while, it welcomes me. Calm and all on my own, I take out the… The um. It’s a solid thing that becomes slippery when wet. Soap. It’s Soap. I take out the soap and scrub myself. It’s important, I’ve learned. Good for my health. When it rinses off, I remain. The only movement in this lake comes from me.

But when I think I’m alone, I’m not. Movement, I hear not from me. It’s coming from the other side of the lake. The quick tip tip tip sound. It’s feet, human. The pace tells me we’ll be face to face any moment now, any second. So I contemplate. Will I be able to reach the other side of the lake before I view that face? So I start to swim away but I stop when I hear feet. Closer this time, more vividly. I turn and see a face, seconds from making a grave mistake. “ Stop.” I say. “ Only a fool would jump into a lake.”

“ Then let me be a fool.” He says, removing layers.

“ But don’t you know to keep the fish at bay?” I ask.

“So what?” He responds. My eyes widen, I have to get away.

“ If you must.” I say. “ Then let me get away.” There’s a nod, silent agreement. I emerge from the lake, wet hair and all. Hair falling down my body, covering most. Hiding all.

“ Wait.” He says. “Where are your clothes?”

I motion my head and say, “ Turn around then.” He turns and I grab my things, ready to run. And then I do. I run to find a tree. Finding them isn’t hard, not far either. One that curves to the floor, bingo.

“ Turn.” I say, behind the branch.

“ Where did you go?” He asks.

“ Doesn’t matter. Enjoy your bath.” I say, turning. Discrete with myself when I hear a splash.

By myself, for good. I relax. I put on my things and what doesn’t fit, I pack.

I tread back to the path I originally led. Careful, he might still be in the lake. Back at the sight, everything seems clear. He’s not in the lake, but he is by it. Sitting on a rock, waiting.

“ Are you here for the moon?” He asks.

“ The moon?” I ask. “ No. Why would I be here for that? I’m just a traveler following instinct, a calling.”

“ Oh.” He says. “ I just assumed. Most people come here for the moon.”

“ Where is here ?” I ask.

“ Follow me and I’ll show you.” He says.

“ Be warned if you think of jumping me, I have glass.” I say, gripping the satchel I have with me.

“Glass?” He says, chuckling. “ Oh okay. I don’t know how you’ll hurt me by looking at yourself.” I look at him, dumbfounded. People look at themselves with glass? He turns. “ It’s a joke.”

“ I don’t get it.” I say.

“ Mirrors? People look at themselves with glass mirrors.” He says. I don’t respond. I’m still lost. “ Man, I have a lot to show you when we get to the city.”

“ Cities are fictional. Right?” I ask.

His eyes widened. “ I have no words. Just follow me.” I nod and we keep walking.

Eventually we get to the city after many pit stops that weren’t necessary. It wasn’t even that far. Less than 5 miles.

“ Right.” He says. “ Name’s Evan. I’ll be your guide in the city of the lost moon. What your name?”

“ It’s.” I look down at my bracelet. “ It’s Luna.”

“ Luna? That’s another name for the moon.” He says.

“ Oh. Then maybe my parents liked the moon.” I say. He doesn’t go any farther into what I’ve said. There’s an unspoken rule out here. Lost kids are lost kids. No need for anything more.

“ The city is impressive. Just like the pictures I’ve seen.” I say.

He nods. Says a little bit more about how it was built in 10 years. Open to tourist for 3. He takes me to the beach. “ And that”, he says. He points to a statue.

“ That’s the moon and the girl that was once in it.” I say.

“ How’d you know?” He asks.

“ I’ve seen her.”

I walk up to the statue. Not sure why I did. I take out a heart-shaped locket. I found a few years back. It looked like mine so I kept it. I place it by the statue and it shifts. It comes to life. She’s real. The girl in the moon with her stone colored porcelain skin. “ You.” She says.

“ Me.” I say. “ You’re my calling. That’s why you lay by me.”

“ That I am.” She says. “ It’s why I do.”