• Published 24th Aug 2016
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Shooting Towards The Moon - Gray Compass



Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. Sometimes you just don't know what the hell is wrong with the world.

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Through The Reflection

I was laying on my bed, just resting, I wasn't sleepy or anything — maybe just a little. I had about three pillows under my head, they kept my neck in a sort of crooked position, in an angle of forty five degrees or so. That's the way I liked to rest anyway, it had always been like that, crooked, bent, tilted. My mother used to say I'd hurt my neck, my spine, strain my muscles or whatever — but none of that ever happened.

Sometimes when I fell asleep with all those pillows I'd wake up with my back all stiff and sore, but it never ached for much longer, and it never gave me a broken spine or anything of that sort. I guess I got used to it.

You get used to certain kinds of things, and you can't get rid of the habit no matter how badly you want to quit.

I had my hands crossed over my stomach as I stared at the empty grey ceiling, you could see that the painting was cracking here and there, at the edges and corners mostly.

The window beside my bed was half-opened, the breeze pushed the curtains around, then it ceased, there was silence, and the breeze would start again, bringing with it a faint smell of wet earth or grass. The glimpse of sky I could see from my place was a solid patch of lead-colored clouds; it had been like that for days. The air was humid, it drizzled by the morning and late at night, it wasn't cold, just sick.

The weather didn't bothered me too much. It should, however.

It bothered my brother a lot, he was always checking the forecasts, next day, next week, next month, until it became vague. The weather mattered a lot to him because he was responsible for the harvest, he knew when the time was about right to reap and to sow. I had only a vague idea.

I had a vague idea about most of the things as a matter of fact, and that frustrated me a lot. It was very depressing to have only vague knowledge. I'd rather know a lot about very few things, than know very little about thousands of subjects.

By that moment it had been a week since I found Luna, and although I tried to expand my knowledge, I sadly realized it still remained very vague. As always.

She wasn't very helpful either. It was hard to extract a single useful word of her. It wasn't her fault for the most part; whoever held Luna in possession made a tremendous job in bleaching her memories before shoving her into a train to god knows where.

The whole condition worried me. It worried the fuck out of me.

How would I pay the bills, who would do the harvest, who would buy it, for how much, and what the hell should I do to help Luna — all that crap flashed before my eyes at once. It was a silent agony, that crawled day after day deeper into my mind.

I sighed, pushing the pillows away and sitting on the bed. I had a white sock on my left foot and a stripped one on the right, I felt the wooden floor with the tip of my toes from beneath the soft fabric. I sat like that at the edge of my bed for a while, staring at the window and feeling the texture of the things around me. People often forget to feel these things.

The computer hummed on a corner as it always did, and for a second I considered spending the entire day watching movies and feeling my stupid socks against the wooden floor, sipping coffee, pretending my life wasn't completely screwed.

Then I heard the easily recognizable sound of hooves downstairs, that muffled clip clop, and I couldn't ignore it.

In silence I made my way to the door, turning the brass knob slowly, so it wouldn't make a single creak. The corridor was brightly lit in a natural light that poured in from the large skylights in the ceiling. I covered my eyes with an arm, until they adjusted themselves to the glaring brightness. I walked to the stairs sort of dragging my feet until I reached the curved railing.

I could see part of the living room from there; the couch, center table, a corner of the hallway. Luna was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear the television.

I followed the sound, step by step, until I was on the ground floor. Luna didn't noticed me, or pretended not to. She was sitting on her haunches, staring at the images on the television like a cat — god, she loved that thing as much as I hated it.

"Awake, already?" She said, turning around. She took me by surprise.

"Yeah... Sort of half-awake." I replied, smiling blankly to myself. "Have you had breakfast?" I asked, knowing she obviously hadn't. Luna could barely open the door to her room without help, tough, she controlled the television like a professional technician. Her horn had some uses, it seemed — aside from killing things.

"No, I was waiting for you." She replied, standing up from her spot at the fuzzy carpet. The television went on mute by the moment she spoke. I did not asked how.

"Nice... thanks." I said, walking to the fridge. There was a wide counter with some stools between the living room and the kitchen. Luna wasn't tall enough to sit on the stools, so I usually prepared the food and carried it to the center table where we both could eat side by side.

She ate fruits, mostly. Vegetables, bread, pasta. Anything but meat. I wasn't a carnivore myself; if I were to eat meat, I'd choose fish. It didn't bothered her, as long as I kept it away from her plate.

I prepared eggs and toast, as always. It never gets old, and we were both pleased. We were running out of juice — that worried me too, because we were also running out of everything, money included.

With our dishes in hand, I knelt down in front of the center table, placing the silverware and glasses. It never ceased to amaze me how she managed to lift the fork and knife without even touching it. I once asked her how she did that, she shrugged — she just did it — it was a natural thing to her, lit her horn and make things float around. She couldn't explain, neither could I. It was very weak during the first days, if not completely absent, but now the thing was strengthening again.

Luna had her 'fascinations' too. One of the things that amazed her the most, was the television.

It was shocking indeed, because Luna wasn't impressed at all by the normal channels and those never-ending ads — no — she watched that white noise static between the channels. She was truly hooked by that. I found it pretty disturbing at first, it was one of those things she couldn't explain in words I'd understand. Her horn seemed to glow very faintly while she watched, and for days to come that was all I'd know.

"So, how's the television today? Anything new?" I asked, just for the sake of doing it.

She nodded with her head.

"They are making searches. But in the wrong place, I believe." Luna said.

"They? They who?" I paused, my fork frozen in midair.

"Those with the black cars and the flying things."

"The feds? I mean, did you saw them on the news or something?" I turned my head to look at the television, but it was just static.

"No, not on the news, you can't see them. They are using the signals."

"Then how do you even know the color of their cars?" I asked, caught by surprise.

"Sometimes... I can- I don't really know how... I can catch a glimpse. But not for too long, or else..." Luna stopped, looking down at the reflection of her glass on the table.

"Or else what?" I said nearly whispering, as if someone else could hear me.

"Or else they can look back."

Silence reigned over the room as we finished eating.

She scared me — not her — but the things that could come looking for her. It gave me shivers only to think about. For a moment I thought about the guy on the youtube video, complaining about helicopters and the military.

The idea of ending up like him, a refugee in his own land, it disturbed me deeply.

I dropped my fork.

"Can you hear that?" I asked, a heavy wave of nervousness crashed somewhere inside my body. A distant hum made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I stood up, staring at the window, the old porch, the lawn, the road far beyond.

"Hear what?" Luna rushed to my side. Her ears moving up, trying to catch the sound.

"Car, there's a car." I said, cold sweat drenching my hands

"I can't see it."

"Not yet, it's behind the crops." I replied, closing the curtains as fast as I could. "C'mon, upstairs!"

"W-what?" She backed away.

"Luna, cars don't come here, unless they really — really — need to." I panted. "Go upstairs, hide in your room."

The sound of diesel engines was clearer now, it was definitely a car, a big one. I opened a crack in the curtains and peered outside; there was a black SUV making a turn.

"Shit!"

"Go to your room, stay there — no matter what the fuck happens — you stay there." I said, looking down at Luna.

"But Todd-"

"I said go! Now!" I shouted.