Tears of the Moon

A Story by oneartyom

An emotional piece I did during a horror writing session.

As the Moon, I am nothing.

An absence of thought, of existence. I am a scared, blistered orb of nothing.

I can watch. I’ve always watched, and I will continue to watch until the Sun burns out and civilization is ashes and the universe returns to the Balance.

I’ve always watched. As the Moon, I watched as the first humans took their weak steps onto a growing, writhing, festering strip of rock. I watched as the first primitive thought of competition sparked from within a head of matted fur, as you learned to manipulate your rock, to control it, and I watched as the first blood was spilt, spilt by a branch of the same black ground that birthed you, and I cried, I sobbed, as you stepped over your own form, taking a mate and becoming a slave to your own evolution, satisfying yourself in a lunatic ecstasy.

As the Moon, I am nothing.

I was forced to watch and I begged, I begged for my Fathers to stop me from understanding, to blind me to the twitching, fleshy, electromagnetic wastelands of the organic mind. I wanted to not feel your heartbeats, to not trip over each jagged thought, each contorted altruism, refined and reborn as the eons passed.

I watched as you removed you own roots, as you severed your last connections with the Energies from which you came. Torches blinded me, pitchforks cut me, and still I watched as the last lamia witch fled from the plains into the darkness of the wild forests, nakedly bent on all fours and scuttling blindly. She stopped past a waterfall, she stopped where my light reflected into a pure pool, a pool so smooth and clear that all but my own image were brought to life within its reflections. She was wounded, one of her legs bled a soft heartbeat into the pool as she grieved for her children. Her hair hung black and lank, and each of her arms tucked into a frail, white body as she curled up beside the saturated, darkened water. And so I watched as the last Creature of Beyond died in the world of man.

A slow rain started to dance upon the ground, obscuring my face from view.

Years passed as the rain quietly cleared the pool.

Once you worshipped me. The darkness of a summer’s night was electric; fires burned bright and great masses climbed the mountains until you were within my touch. Earthly Shamans and Minstrels crept in and out of my waking dreams, entertaining me with stories behind my eyes. You led me to believe I could feel on your level and I thought I had fallen in love. Music floated to me, prayers fueled my heart, and offerings filled me to the point of sleep. Once, I let myself believe that you had found the balance. Tendrils of light intertwined with the sunset as you sang, tendrils of light which coaxed me, comforted me, gently pulled me in a warm embrace. I was elated, and I drifted happily from the clouds, foolish enough to believe my own fantasy. I fell low over the mountains, wrapped in song. The world of man, I thought, had become one with the Energies, and so I let go, rejoicing. My heart was young, and so it was proven naive. For the torches burned with a fierce joy, but they cast their glow too far. I saw it, I saw the rock that I thought could be so pure. The fire blazed a dark crimson into the cracks of the Earth, and so I witnessed sin.

In the darkness under the mountains I witnessed rage unlike any I had ever seen, a killing spark ignited of jealousy, jealousy of nothing more than a forsaken piece of your rock, shaped and hewn in your own image. The prized idol fell and shattered, it's pieces flew across those too complacent to shift and those too gorged on the labor of others to think. In the darkness under the mountains, while pieces scattered over the forms of mothers bearing their own forced young, I witnessed the sins of Earth.

I could do nothing; I was nothing.

But I learned. I learned to disregard the suggestions of the Fathers, I learned to forget the ways of the Balance, I learned from the actions of thousands below me. My heart grew cold, my face dark. I wanted the creation to burn, I wanted a thousand plagues to sweep your rock until nothing remained.

One day, I found I could whisper.

I tried to whisper into the minds and hearts of mortal beings but found nothing, so I whispered to the seas themselves. I bade them to rise up, I bade them to roar, to shriek, to thunder across the world. The energy of the Oceans rose up to meet me, and then fell back onto the lands.

My heart sick, I gazed across turbulent seas.

Light caught peaks and valleys of the endless ocean, cutting stark white over their inky depths. I watched as your rock collapsed, and I thought I was free at last.

But the connection was too strong.

It tore into me, pulling me down into the oppressing depths of the seas. Together, you and I drowned, and I begged the Fathers once more to spare me from my thoughts. I had never known such weight, such pressure.The feeling of loss was unfamiliar to me, as was the weight of my own existence. My body lashed out at death, and I felt my own consciousness take form, contorting out of my own recognition. I had never known fear, but I finally recognized the black animal tearing apart my insides as I sank. A current twisted me and I tumbled deep into a chasm, my light flickering into nothingness.