The Maiden of the Moon
Houston, this is communications engineer Tenorio Ledesma, and this will be my last transmission from the Mayflower III, the first of the United States Lunar Settlements of America. It is with a deep sense of betrayal boiling within my blood that I admit I now know the truth, but in a matter of moments that will no longer be of any more importance. Because by the end of what we assert is today, true and false will become mere abstract ideologies of a dead civilization. Soon, only what is shall be.
I am now speaking to the people of Earth, directly to those breaching the vast security to stream this broadcast through various illegal, illicit manors. You curious souls are the messengers across the blackness of space acting as the prophets that will reveal the totality our world will soon face. Our journey to create a habitat on the moon was a brave decision, and one that was most necessary, as the Earth has begun to wither far too greatly to sustain life for our future generations. The Mayflower III was the pinnacle of American engineering, as it was a massive shuttle-station that was the first of several connecting pieces that would become the building blocks of humanity’s next home. But what began as another race to the moon against the rest of the world, now lies buried beneath the mute grey sands of the shattered satellite.
I was a member of the Moses Black shuttle crew, responsible for maintaining the craft communications between our operations base in Houston and the Mayflower III’s receiving bay. We were the seventeenth voyage that carried fourteen-hundred pilgrims along with four-hundred staff. Our three day trek across the silence of space was, dare I say, rather uneventful, as we drifted through emptiness only to sit and think of all we left behind. It was a mental torture balancing how fortunate we felt to be on this ship, with the thought of family, friends, and even others more deserving than ourselves, looking up from the near desolate surface of our home planet that was taken for granted by generations before us. My parents and my two older siblings spent their entire savings and life earnings to pay for the education that would allot me a career and a place within the next chapter of the human race.
The shame I feel now, knowing their effort was for nothing, cripples me to the very core of my existence. More than anything I want to believe my Mother’s words that God’s plan is always in action, and despite the suffering my family, along with the rest of the Earth, is about to endure, I hope their souls will find a certain peace. For I know by myself, I have fallen into a deep madness after witnessing the demise by our own arrogance, for we ignorant humans did not know that the Devil slept on the moon, and we woke her from her slumber.
We were told the mission of the Mayflower III’s pilgrims was to begin mining and geo-engineering the surface of the moon to accommodate more humans migrating from Earth. Unlike the later shuttles that brought other pilgrims with the duties of doctors, farmers, teachers, and public service, the first three brought only the military branch of the United States Lunar Settlements of America. While the mass of the population was under the assumption that the military was simply overseeing the construction of the moon base, the small minority of the country’s skeptics believe the military has set up multiple defense stations that will target and shoot down any other country’s efforts to escape to the moon. As it turns out, the minority were correct.
After the great war of 2055, the United States completely shut itself out from any outside countries, even going so far as abandoning Hawaii, Alaska, Puerto Rico, and all other U.S. territories, making the race to the moon the only priority of the American people. It was not until a few hours ago when the real intentions of our government were revealed that I not only lost hope, but more so the meaning of the word has completely drifted from my comprehension.
It was in the early hours of yesterday’s operations when the change was noticeable. The military men and women were silently standing guard perfectly aligned along the halls that connected the Mayflower III to the additional living quarters of the pilgrims. A grand alarm that blared a blasphemous sound awoke us all, and as we exited our rooms we were quickly wrangled like cattle and escorted to the main hall of the lunar settlement. I grew great concern after noticing one of the guards, whom unlike the others, was not wearing their helmet’s visor, revealing the coldest, emptiest look I ever saw on another person. A strange blackness was taking over their eyes, and the skin was pale and cold, and seemed to be perspiring a strange light green liquid.
As we were ominously complying with the armed soldiers surrounding us, I recognized one of the guards from the tall body and broad shoulders along with the name tag reading Collins. His first name was Stanley, and he and I often spent time in the third cafeteria hall between shifts and talked about the mythologies of past civilizations. The last of our conversations revolved around the Greek legend of Sisyphus, who was cursed by his Gods for his deceitfulness and now must roll a giant boulder up a steep hill, only for it to roll down each time it nears the top. I take one step out of the forced uniform line we are in to approach Stanley, only for him to shove me back in line as if I am sheep he is herding. The now hundreds of people down the same hall as I am that witnessed this blind, quiet use of force began to fall into emotions of fear and anger. This was only the beginning.
I heard shouting from the back of the line, an angry baritone voice filled the long hall with an empowering echo. The single voice then turned into two, then three, then a blend of a dozen, and all within a moment, the entirety of the pilgrims in the halls were shouting at the guards, demanding answers to questions I doubt even the guards knew, or cared for. The sound of people fearing the unknown was then the loudest sound on the moon, and perhaps throughout all of space. I was certain that this mob would soon attempt an overtaking of the governing body, I was almost certain enough to have joined in any potential physical protests against any usurping force. That was of course, until we witnessed the first of the impossible happenings that were to follow.
Amidst the shouting and the fear, a quick gasp followed by a faint voice of curiosity and intrigue broke through the frantic soundwaves with a simple and nearly silent “look.” As if we knew exactly where to glance, the yelling fell to a silence and we gathered as close as the guards would allow us to the circular doors in the hall that granted us a small glimpse of the moon’s surface. Normally, those windows share the same image, unchanging sediment, blackness, and metal, but this time there was something more. Something so astounding that stole my breath the moment my eyes captured such an unbelievable sight.
Despite there not being any wind on the surface of the moon, I witnessed a large, flowing, shining cloth of a white so pure it burned my eyes as if I was looking directly into the sun. The cloth was draped around a creature who at first reminded me of a bride walking down a church aisle on her wedding day. No suit, no protective equipment, nothing to stop the violence of space from quietly taking her away into its depths. This creature was of a divine feminine beauty whose attraction can only be compared to a satellite caught in the gravity of a planet, helpless in its meager attempts to escape the invisible tether now formed. What filled me with even more wonder and inquisitiveness was what this divine Maiden was holding in her left hand: A staff with the flag of the United States of America at the end, however it lacked the unnatural flowing beauty of the Maiden’s white garb.
This maiden of the moon appeared to be walking in a slow motion, carefully stepping along the sandy surface, apparently light enough to leave no traces of her footsteps. Then, as quick as a flash of lightning, she turned and her eyes locked with mine and I froze. I was trapped. I was lost. I was awake. My heart was racing as if I had just swallowed a handful of stimulants, and I began to feel a burning pain inside of my skull.
I could feel my earliest memories beginning to fade away. My skin was wrapped in a sudden sensation of a dry coldness, and I began to feel a frightening stabbing pain in my lungs as they expanded, feeling as if there were small needles inside of my rib cage. It was when I started struggling to breathe that I first heard her speak, though she chose to speak through me rather than through her own means. I expect now that she did this to prove her dominance to I, a lesser being. The name, the moment I spoke it, caused a small amount of blood to drip from my nose, like a sacrifice to be worthy enough to speak it aloud. I spoke her name through a whisper, and that whisper was the loudest sound inside the Mayflower III.
L’il’l’ith.
Everyone fell silent. The oohs and the aahs stopped. The loud shouting abruptly ended. There appeared to be some correlation of speaking her name and the calming of the frantic and panicked colony. The shuffling of frightened footsteps slowed to a halt, and my heartbeat relaxed near the point of non-existence. What happened next is not entirely within my memory, and is muddled with muteness and a dull buzzing sound throughout my scrambled thoughts. However, I did not black out, I know that to be true.
The next clear memory I had was dark and humid, and the air was growing noticeably thinner with each passing inhale and exhale. The heat of both body and breath created a gross discomfort that entered my skin and infected my bloodstream with an oozing sensation of violation. I next noticed a shifting feeling beneath my feet, a feeling of sand and soft sediment, and I realized I somehow, along with other pilgrims, were standing on the very surface of the moon. I looked up, believing I was seeing the many distant stars in space, but it wasn’t until I began hearing echoes of whispers bouncing from the walls around us that I understood I was in fact inside of a cave beneath the lunar surface despite not wearing any atmospheric protection suit. I heard the whispers. I felt their pull. I was falling in love and falling into a trance. I’ve never heard these words nor have I known of the language that was used, but I can recall them from my memory as if I am fluent in the strange and gross dialect.
L’il’l’ith cos il yaarbagh.
L’il’l’ith cos aeichl Sol’eubik.
L’il’l’ith mazz Eden.
L’il’l’ith tek im Hxshxwa.
I was unsure if the whispers were an ode or an enchantment, but I was sure that whatever trance that caused the absence of my recognition was no longer affecting me. I appeared to be the only one with my own thoughts and influencing my own actions as I was not muttering the same, strange and foreign words the rest of the pilgrims were speaking. A sharp buzzing sound was echoing within the dark rocky chamber, which was quickly followed by an ominous red glow that seeped through the mouths, eyes, ears, and noses of the entranced pilgrims.
This ominous ceremony was a hellish sight, one that I believe to have been the only person throughout history to have witnessed such a God-forsaken horror. The light that was emitting from the orifices of the pilgrims was burning as if their skeletal structure was becoming hot metal, and the smell was that of a sick and scorched flesh.
I had many questions, yet no one to ask and no way out that I could see. I was certain that I was in fact standing in some kind of pocket underneath the lunar surface that contains a type of breathable atmosphere, as I could no longer feel the crispness and the falsity of the Mayflower III’s air supply. There was no mistaking it, as the smell was familiar to the caves back where I grew up in Colorado Springs, and when you have spent as much time in caves as I have you develop a sense of depth.
With my communications network unable to reach a signal from below the surface, I instead attempted to send a signal, thinking someone could still be in the control room. However, there was not an answer. But my wrist-mounted communications receiver did however pick up a noise that was at first a random static that was trying to form a solid message, and in doing so a loud ringing was heard.
I heard a voice finally come through after. I believe I was picking up an unknown and unauthorized channel, as it seemed to have been a child speaking through the static asking in a frightened voice “what’s happening to the moon”?
My receiver then began to cut out, and when I tried to adjust the signal dial I accidentally released a loud screech, resulting in the sudden movement of every single body inside of this entrapped cave. They were all turned facing me as if I were their centerpoint. Their eyes, my God, their eyes… And that horrid smell… They were all dying from the inside out. I began smelling smoke, and I began to panic more. Once when I was kid I set a fire in a cave without having the proper ventilation, and I nearly suffocated myself. I began feeling the same tightness inside of my lungs that I did that traumatizing day.
I don’t remember making the decision to begin running, but before I could think I was charging my way through the crowd of vaguely familiar faces of friends and colleagues. To my surprise, I was not stopped nor halted by the numerous entranced husks. Instead I ran for what seemed like a long mile. I was pushing and shoving through the silent and still bodies for some time before I began to see a faint light that was illuminating the statuesque silhouettes.
The second I stepped out of the ocean of bodies my face was immediately met with the stock end of a soldier’s long rifle. Blood began to flow once again from my now crooked nostrils, and I still had my eyes shut as I was wincing from both the surprise and the pain. When I finally opened them it was due to a reflex when I heard a heavy footstep in front of me, as I saw the extremely overbearing presence of a large soldier aiming his rifle at me before using the barrel of the gun to motion me back to the delusional crowd.
By the time I had raised myself back to my feet I realized that darkness inside the cave was beginning to slowly illuminate, I turned around and I saw them all, each of their heads now burning with an internal unnatural mellow flame. Their eyes have all but melted away from the internal heat, leaving only dried sockets of emptiness that were pulling me into a depression that made me feel every emotion I had ever locked away up to that point. I did not know whether to cry, to scream, or to rejoice due to the overwhelming wave of chemicals triggering a hodgepodge of responses in my brain including an unwavering and overbearing fear of the next moment, and when that moment came to pass, I felt an even greater anxiety build in anticipation and uneasiness for the following moment. Looking at each of their hollowed corpses somehow still standing as pyres trapped me in a lucid trance that shook me to my core, leaving me with a nauseating unbalance that still grips my insides to this very moment.
The guard that had struck me had then used his weapon to shove me closer to the crowd of living torches, each of them staring at me with a blank tone of judgement. As I began to slowly step toward the inflamed bodies, I noticed there was a gross symmetry in the manor they were standing. Their focus moved toward me as I walked past each of them causing their eyeless faces to turn to me. Every direction I turned there was a set of empty, burning, black holes staring back at me. I was spinning and spiraling out of control like a wayward satellite. Until I felt the Maiden place her hand on my shoulder.
Her touch startled me, but also pulled me out of the mental catastrophe I was experiencing. I wish I were able to have more time to examine and explain my memory and my feelings about that moment, as I know any rational being would have been frightened or even at the very least, nervous. But not me. I was calm in Her presence. Seeing her before me, I feel as if I have seen something truly real for the first time. The white cloth I at first assumed to be a dress was actually ripped and worn, showing similar signs of distress akin to the clothes of servants of past centuries. I noticed scars from beatings and burnings that decorated her body, somehow making her even more divine.
Slowly, her pearlescent right hand gently touched the left side of my face. My broken nose, which up to that moment, was dripping blood like a leaky faucet, was now bleeding with a steady stream of unwillingness. Slowly, I was dying. But there were no concerns within my being. And although I have never been a suicidal man, for the first time in my life, I held the thought of welcoming my death. My body was bleeding, but I could feel my soul being healed, cleansed, and forgiven. All of my sins, all of my doubts, and all of my worries, were all compounded into one single unexplainable emotion that nearly destroyed my sense of self worth. In that moment, I felt as if my life had never truly existed in the way I once believed it to have.
Following her touch, I fell to my knees under a strange and immense pressure. I could feel the acid in my stomach bubbling and rising inside of my esophagus with a great burning sensation of unwellness. I could feel something else clawing its way out of my fragile body. There was a drumming that began to bellow as the entranced human pyres started to stomp in unison with a terrifying rhythm.
My vision blurred and my ears rung with several high pitched unusual sonics before I began coughing up a gross black foamy substance in short spurts until I finally vomited in a violent release. The dark regurgitation began to boil and bubble as it mixed with the blood seeping from my broken nose, and the lifeless grey sands of the moon. The stomping became faster, more ferocious, and the fires on the heads of the entranced began to burn brighter and hotter, until the entirety of their bodies were engulfed in the unnatural fire. I looked up and I saw the divine maiden gently placing her right hand on her forehead before slowly lowering it down to where her navel would be were she human, then to the area where where her left ovary would be, and then to the right before bringing her hand up to her lips for a subtle kiss. She then looked down at me before reaching out with her right hand again, placing it just below my chin, calmly raising my eyes to hers. Then, she chose to speak through me a second and final time.
“Thank you.”
I couldn’t tell if she was thanking me or if I were thanking her, but before I had a facsimile of a second to contemplate my confusion, the ground beneath me began to slowly hum with a steady vibration. The light from the fires were now great enough to light the entirety of the strange underground domain, which revealed to have dozens, if not hundreds of sculptures along the oddly-carved contradicting geometric cave walls. The sculptures could not have been built by human hands, due to the sheer size and the incomprehensible shapes that seemed to have changed form after every glance.
I was able to recognize the images of a large castle or capitol, a large gate, and something that vaguely resembled a spear or a lightning bolt being held by what looked like the Maiden of the moon herself. She was surrounded by beings whose characteristics are unknowable as they have been damaged by an intense concentrated heat. The vague object of importance began to glow with an intense ray of golden light. At the object’s tip, a small crack appeared, which quickly began to travel across the cave walls and finally, to the ground itself. I looked at the Maiden as she held out her hand to my face and wiped away the blood from my nose. The cave’s ceiling began to break apart, and I felt the atmosphere morph as it reverted back into the primal vacuum of space.
Debris began to fall from above, with each of the massive pieces of lunar rock crashing and smashing into the ground. I heard a shifting noise that came from the hundreds of guards along the border of the cave, followed by a series of clicks and a single, loud, conjoined explosion of multiple gun chambers. Each of them held their gun to the head of the soldier on their right, and they simultaneously fired a single shot. I had just witnessed the mass suicide of the guards. As their bodies laid lifeless on the ground, they began to shake and convulse violently before they sank below the lunar surface as the sands began to swallow them. In the distance, I saw a small opening in the caverock. Seeing no other chance of escape, I ran without looking back.
The path I traveled was covered in a rude darkness that whispered to me, leading to visions of what I believe to be the decimation of past civilizations flashing before me after each step I frantically took toward the eventual end of the cave. As I neared the light at the end of the cave, I began to understand what the sculptures and the whispers were showing and telling me. It was a long lost truth that no longer mattered. The monumental self realization I had left me the second I stepped into the light and the sounds of airlocks hissing before hearing a door open. To my surprise, I was inside of the Mayflower III’s lower energy storage bay.
At the same time, the moon began to shake too greatly for me to stand upright without a great struggle. I heard a loud series of cracking noises followed by an echoing boom that dropped me to the ground. The lights on the Mayflower III began to flicker with ominous patterns in the flashes. I wobbled for a few hundred meters, keeping to the walls to find my way to the ladder to the upper levels. The power to the entire station was then disrupted by the instability of the moon’s surface, and it was in the final connecting hall to the main communications room that I knew my final moments were approaching me.
Like an echo of a moment, from the windows in the hall I once again saw the Maiden standing on the surface of the moon, still with the American Flag behind her. I could feel the shaking becoming painfully more violent as the surface was beginning to crack and shatter like a mirror being broken. Then there was a small happening of calmness just before the worst of it came.
The Maiden raised the flag high above her body, and the surface of the Moon was now being forced open from underneath as a wickedly clawed appendage protruded from the depths with a desperate aggression. I was so captured by the sight of this tall, terrifyingly empty, profane thing that I didn’t notice the many other equally nihilistic disturbances that were also now surfacing. Before I could study these horrific yet intriguing beings, a great series of red flashes and loud sirens claimed my senses.
The giant titans must have now been emerging from below the Mayflower III, as the entirety of it now was moving as if it was being ripped apart. The overhead station operating system’s monotone voice reveals there is an imminent total power collapse, and that evacuation is needed as the station is failing. Ignoring the hell outside of the windows, I stutter along until I finally reach where I am now, speaking to you.
All of the escape pods have been dispatched and are mid-jettison toward Earth right now. From the large viewing glass in the center of the communications room that gives a clear view from the Moon to the Earth, I can see the lights from the rockets of the escape pods. Then, I see the Maiden herself, floating away from the surface of the moon, now on a direct path toward Earth followed by the countless once buried creatures now free from any confinement. At this moment, they are almost calm, and in a sense at peace, as am I. The horrible demonic beings with unproportionate limbs, enlarged heads and hands, are all just waiting to get where they are going, just to do what they are meant to do. And now I sit here in the dark in my final minutes, having already done what I did, on the shoulders of every decision, despite the undeniably predetermined nature of it all.
The cycle continues. Make your peace. L’il’L’ith is coming back to claim what is hers — all of us.
The rest of my time is for myself, my regrets, and my God, whom I have many questions for. Something tells me that you, however, will get those answers from Him before I do.
Tenorio Ledesma, signing out.
