- Messages
- 74
- Points
- 33
They locked eyes across the void, some four-thousand miles of airless, lightless space.
The astronaut said nothing. Would say nothing, never uttering a word of it to anyone, even unto the last moments of his dying day.
What could he say? That as they passed beyond the far side of the Moon, out of sight and contact alike with Mother Earth, he'd been suddenly beset by the dread sensation of eyes on him? That the feeling had persisted even as he confirmed his colleagues to be otherwise occupied, oblivious in their monitoring of instruments and controls?
That it had calcified from feeling into certainty — that he'd seen something, and that something beyond his understanding had seen him — upon his looking out through the closest viewport, laying eyes on Luna itself?
Certainly not. Who would believe him?
None that he knew of. A scant, select few in truth.
The other party merely smiled at the exchange. At the creeping, uncomprehending horror as it spread through the astronaut like ink through water, every bit as visible at four-thousand miles as it might've been at four feet.
He did not move from where he stood, perched atop the edge of the regolith with his hair and attire billowed weightless about him. There was no reason to. The man knew nothing of him, and likely couldn't even truly see him from so far away. Not really. And even though he'd made his presence known — felt, like a burning brand upon mind and memory — he knew the astronaut would never tell a soul of what he'd experienced, what he’d witnessed.
They never did.
One moment became the next and then it was over, the spell broken. He watched as the craft passed away, following it with his eyes as it descended back toward the lunar horizon.
Traveling to that dark and distant place had been a matter of no small import: significant enough for him to put both searching for the Goddess and hunting for the Prince alike on hold. But the decision to do so had been an easy one — he had to be there.
He had to keep watch over them as they passed through the isolate dark, when no other could.
Theirs was a noble pursuit. An endeavor sacrosanct. One he hoped, in the innermost depths of his secret, sacred heart, that some of the hapless little shits at his day job might be lucky enough to learn from.
The desire to arise, to break orbit, to go above and beyond, and in so going see and experience and become more than any other… this stood singular, stood superlative, above all else to which an intelligent mind might aspire.
The craft disappeared below the horizon, entering back into communion with the world whence it came and leaving him alone with the stars.
He'd begun to fear they'd forgotten. It was good to see he'd been wrong.
The astronaut said nothing. Would say nothing, never uttering a word of it to anyone, even unto the last moments of his dying day.
What could he say? That as they passed beyond the far side of the Moon, out of sight and contact alike with Mother Earth, he'd been suddenly beset by the dread sensation of eyes on him? That the feeling had persisted even as he confirmed his colleagues to be otherwise occupied, oblivious in their monitoring of instruments and controls?
That it had calcified from feeling into certainty — that he'd seen something, and that something beyond his understanding had seen him — upon his looking out through the closest viewport, laying eyes on Luna itself?
Certainly not. Who would believe him?
None that he knew of. A scant, select few in truth.
The other party merely smiled at the exchange. At the creeping, uncomprehending horror as it spread through the astronaut like ink through water, every bit as visible at four-thousand miles as it might've been at four feet.
He did not move from where he stood, perched atop the edge of the regolith with his hair and attire billowed weightless about him. There was no reason to. The man knew nothing of him, and likely couldn't even truly see him from so far away. Not really. And even though he'd made his presence known — felt, like a burning brand upon mind and memory — he knew the astronaut would never tell a soul of what he'd experienced, what he’d witnessed.
They never did.
One moment became the next and then it was over, the spell broken. He watched as the craft passed away, following it with his eyes as it descended back toward the lunar horizon.
Traveling to that dark and distant place had been a matter of no small import: significant enough for him to put both searching for the Goddess and hunting for the Prince alike on hold. But the decision to do so had been an easy one — he had to be there.
He had to keep watch over them as they passed through the isolate dark, when no other could.
Theirs was a noble pursuit. An endeavor sacrosanct. One he hoped, in the innermost depths of his secret, sacred heart, that some of the hapless little shits at his day job might be lucky enough to learn from.
The desire to arise, to break orbit, to go above and beyond, and in so going see and experience and become more than any other… this stood singular, stood superlative, above all else to which an intelligent mind might aspire.
The craft disappeared below the horizon, entering back into communion with the world whence it came and leaving him alone with the stars.
He'd begun to fear they'd forgotten. It was good to see he'd been wrong.
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