A Sight of the Moon

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A sight of the Moon. It is all is left.

The sky has turned black and purple. The starts shine differently, and the Moon is reflecting their light. The sun is hidden, somewhere out there, as if Earth moved away from its gaze. A silence embraced everything. A few insects were singing from afar, while a person was sitting alone on a bench, smoking a cigarette.

That person had long golden hair that danced with the air. The nocturnal breeze that whispered an unintelligible language. It made the smoke she blew disappear. How long had she been there already? Time turned out to be irrelevant, it should have been morning already, according to the hour shown on her phone. 8:46.

The girl believed it’s a dream that went beyond the deep unconsciousness. It was too tangible to be false; a trick that her brain had been playing. The detail of her environment was real. The fountain with the alligators was there, and the streetlights on, as if the world had stopped by the will of someone—something greater.

The tobacco’s taste is as she remembered it. Downtown should be occupied by those that are heading to school or work. Only the breeze kept its whispering. No engines, no footsteps approaching, nothing else to count as a company. It seemed the world had just stalled, and just a few might be there, conscious, embraced by the same solitude as hers; though the girl didn’t seem to care. In fact, she seemed comfortable; maybe she was waiting for something like that to happen all along, without really knowing. A hidden wish that had always lived within her, trying to escape given the opportunity.

The girl with the golden hair, without a proper perception of her surroundings, closed her eyes. An abandoned town couldn’t be dangerous; and the inhabiting ghosts were silent to her presence. She’d found a certain beauty on a moon and many stars that emitted a strange, pretty, purple light. A beauty that is present, just for her.

Suddenly, she realized something: as much as she’d wanted to convince herself for that to be a dream, there was something wrong. The girl knew it wasn’t a dream, and yet, she didn’t want to let that sense of comfort go. She walked through the streets of El Paso, never too far from downtown. Nothing. Only the echo of her own movements against the pavement.

Offices, restaurants, and other public places; even those few that were supposed to be open 24 hours, had their lights off. Only the streetlights were working. Is the whole world gone? She thought, and then repeated it, this time using words, in case someone could hear.

A few hours later, at the time that was supposed to be noon, she returned to her apartment. The lights worked well. The other buildings had their lights off. Probably the people were still sleeping, waiting for the sunlight to hit their rooms. Or worse, maybe they were gone, to a place where the sun is actually shining. Another version of Earth.

In the end, what could a human do in that situation? There was a self-portrait in her room next to the bed. She’s an art student at the Texas University. There were a few drawings scattered on the floor, some of them abstract and some others realistic. All of them had her signature, but only one of them a name—it had been written using Cyrillic characters that read: Alena.

Alena didn’t feel the need to sleep. She grabbed an empty canvas and two colors: black and purple. With that, she could immortalize that moment, in case the thing that had caused the strange event decides to return everything back to normal.

What of her family? What of her friends? She never gave a single thought about them. Painting became her priority.


This is just a prelude of my project called For Her Moon. More preludes to come.

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