Man on the Moon

Fictional story about two young girls and their family issues.

            “Why can’t we go to the moon?” My younger sister asked me one night while we were lying in our backyard, gazing at the stars. The dew had seeped through the thin blanket we were on and I had become uncomfortably wet.

            “Because, Ali,” I answered. “Because that takes money and training. And you’re too young to be an astronaut anyway.”

            “Well, that’s stupid,” she replied brusquely, and sighed. We laid there for a few more minutes without speaking, until I broke the silence.

            “Ali, maybe we should go inside,” I suggested, shifting awkwardly on the damp blanket.

            “Noo!” She whined. I rolled my eyes. “Mom and Dad are prob’ly fighting again I wanna stay out here.”

            “No, they’re not,” I consoled her, trying to sound as convincing as possible, even though I knew she was probably right. I started to stand up, but she crossed her arms stubbornly and didn’t move. I leaned over and gently pulled on her arm. She belligerently shook free from my grip.

            “No! I wanna stay out here!” Defeated, I sank down to the blanket and laid back down.

            It was a clear, cloudless night and the stars dotted the sky like freckles. Despite the moisture underneath my back, it was relatively warm. I thought about what my sister had said, and she was right. My parents had a tendency to be a bit melodramatic. We even had gotten into a few physical fights, which usually consisted of me dodging the phone, an ashtray, or anything else my mother could find to throw at me while they called me derogatory names. I worried deeply for Allison, and when she got older and I moved out.

            “You know, there’s a man on the moon,” I said disarmingly. She didn’t move, but I saw her wandering eyes dart toward the crescent.

            “No there’s not,” she said cynically. “I don’t see anything. And besides, a man couldn’t survive on the moon. It’s in outer space!”

            “No, there is!” I persuaded. “You just can’t see him now. When there’s a full moon, I’ll show you. You can see a face, right there on the moon.”

            “Ohh…” She cooed softly. We laid there in silence for a while, until the sound of yelling and breaking glass drifted from the house.

            “Wait here,” I told Allison, and got up. I ran to the back door and stepped into our kitchen, cringing as I walked straight into what looked like a scene from a movie. My mom’s expression was wild, and she grasped a broken wine bottle like a sword in her right hand, which was bleeding. My dad was standing a few feet away from her, his fists clenched, and the veins in his forehead bulging. Before I could get a word in, my dad walked over to my mom and wrapped his large, strong hands around her throat. My mom dropped the wine bottle and vainly attempted to pry his huge hands off of her neck.

            “Dad! Dad, stop!” I screamed, running over to them. I grabbed his arm, and he released one hand from my mother to slap me across the face.

            “Stay out of it, Sophia,” he grunted. I fell backward a few feet, holding my burning cheek and feigning tears. My mom was nearing unconsciousness, and he continued to unrelentingly strangle her.

            I ran outside to check on Allison, and she was where I left her, sitting up on the old quilt from our basement. Her round, green eyes were filled with tears of anguish.

            “Stand up,” I said quietly, and she obeyed. I rolled up the quilt and took her hand. We heard a large crash as I opened the gate and led her through it. We walked the half-mile to our grandparents’ house in silence, save Ali’s occasional sniffling.

            When we reached our grandparents’, I briefly told my grandma what happened and led Ali up the stairs to the guest bedroom. I sat cross-legged on top of the down comforter as Ali crawled underneath it. I scratched her back until she fell asleep, and then vainly attempted sleep myself. The minutes ticked by and I wondered what happened to my parents, and what would happen to my sister and me in the morning. I fell asleep a little after one, worries still crawling through my conscience.

Reviews

[Rachel U.]

Hm. Interesting. This works as a short story, but I feel like you could develop each paragraph a little more fully. Your langauge and descriptions are well-suited to this, though, and your dialogue felt natural. //I ran outside to check on her, and she was where I left her,// Here, the "her" actually seems to refer to the mother, even though it refers to the sister. Be careful with your pronouns. Ohterwise, fantastic.

[ogirhsog]

It's well written, and a very tragic story. It's also a perfect example of why children need their grandparents some times. The story seems a bit incomplete though. I just hope this isn't based on something that actually happened.

[Kawaiikitty96]

You have real talent. This piece has so much emotion in it.

[Shay33]

I wasn't planning on it... I usually don't write any longer than this. I'm more of a short story-type person.

[Chellie]

This was really good. I want to know what happens next. Are you planning on writing more for this?