Star Shaped Blog

Not only is the moon red, but the redness is moving. 

“How is that even possible?” I say to nobody in particular.

I rush to the cockpit and turn off autopilot, roughly steering into orbit of the red moon. It may be stupid and time-consuming, but I can’t help but need to know more. 

“What in the world…” The ship lurches as I attempt to drive it. Never really been good at it, if Rocky were here he’d probably be yelling about it right now. A loud crack like nothing I’d ever heard before goes off.

 — 

“Crack. Crack. Crack.” and suddenly the P.A is going off. 

“This is a code red lockdown. All students return to their classrooms immediately and all teachers lock doors and fill out the emergency roll call list on your devices.”

Some kids are yelling, some are crying, others just think it’s another silly drill. Though I’ve only worked here under a year, I can tell the difference between a drill and the real thing. I rush to lock the door. Although I probably should’ve tried to look composed for the kids, I really am quite scared. None of the schools I ever went to had any shootings, so this is a first for me. 

“Alright, kids, we all need to calm down.” My breathing is becoming shaky. I turn the lights off.

“Crack”

“Please sit against the wall or under a desk, I’m sure this will all be over soon.” My voice cracks at the word please. The last part was added more for my own comfort than the kids.

“Mr., how long will we have to wait for?” An 11 year old girl asks. Her name is Annie and she’s from a year level lower. She was only here to get something from her sister. 

“Crack. Crack.”

“Uh- Uhm. Just until we’re told it’s okay to come out.” I sink to the ground and hug my knees. I need to be strong for them. I take a deep breath in, and out.

“Mr. Grace-” Before the boy can ask me whatever it is he wants to ask, the P.A goes off again.

“Attention all staff and students, the lockdown is officially over. You may return to scheduled classtime.” Then the bell rings.

I attempt to regain my composure and stand. “Hey, it’s all done. That wasn’t so bad, right? Now everyone get their stuff and go to lunch. My office and the counselor’s office are open if you’re feeling afraid or upset.” 

I walk to a currently unused classroom, I have a short meeting with the other science teachers. “What was that all about?” I ask. 

“I believe some kid was playing with a cap gun, and Jenni freaked out and called the office.” Says Kacey, the year 8 biology teacher.

“Jenni?” I say, her name not ringing a bell.

“Jenni Ryan, she’s one of the substitute teachers. Not a great teacher but a nice person, I guess.” 

 — 

“Crack” And I’m back. Where was I? Right, the moon. I snap out of my trance and look back out the window. “What the hell!?” I had looked away for two seconds and a tree the size of a country appeared on the surface of the moon. I suppose that was the cracking sound.

This tree told me two things. One, that the “red” wasn’t the colour of the moon, but the colour of the ocean on the moon, and two, that something was horribly wrong. I find a monocular and bring it to the window. “Holy sh-oot is that a person!?” 

Before I know it I’m in the cockpit again. I bring Mary as close I can to the moon and the massive tree without leaving orbit. I think there’s a decent length rope just outside the airlock, I could maybe attach it to the hull and my suit and lower myself to the person, but how would I even carry them while also climbing back up? Are they even able to breathe right now? What am I meant to do?? I start to panic. 

“Calm down Ry, you can fix this. You can fix this.” I run to the airlock, throw on my EVA suit, and rapidly search the area. I find two long ropes, a couple belay devices, a small axe, and some carabiners, and make my way out of the ship. I tie myself to the hull, giving myself as much slack as possible, and use the belay to allow myself to fall slowly. It’s just like abseiling in those middle school camps I never wanted to go to yet always kind of enjoyed. 

As I make it to the tree, which is much too large, I reach towards the unconscious body. A male, maybe early 30s. I glance away to check my harness and wait did he have a second mouth? I look back and study him closer. His face is grotesque, covered in blood that may or may not be from the suspiciously coloured ocean behind him. He doesn’t quite have a second mouth, but it’s definitely extended on the right side with gross, elongated teeth that stick out like they’re not supposed to be there. On second thought, is he even human? Have I found two alien species in one expedition? He even has gills!

I go to check his pulse on his left arm, to find that he doesn’t have one, and the place where the arm should be is rapidly losing blood. I quickly attach him to my EVA suit, carefully hacking the branch that’s made its way through his thigh in the hopes of avoiding more blood loss. 

On my left I see another person. Shit. There’s no way I can take two. Though it looks like she has a branch through her heart, so I don’t think I could have saved her. “I’m sorry, tree woman. I would have saved you if I could.” I try to bow in the direction of her, and notice one of her eyes is entirely white. “I hope you’re at peace now.”

I make it back to the ship as fast as I can handle, fish man strapped to my back. He’s been lacking oxygen for a dangerous amount of time, and the faster I can get him to Armando the better. 

After throwing off my EVA, I run with the man in my arms. He’s heavy, definitely bulkier than me, but shorter, which is nice, I suppose. I get him to the medical bed. Just in case he panics after waking up, if he wakes up at all, I strap his legs and arm to the bed. Armando gets to work, and I almost forget to turn the autopilot back on before sitting down beside the bed.

I believe it’s around ‘midday’ the next day when I wake up to the beeping of the nanny-bot. I look at the small tablet beside the arms. It reads “human assistance required, foreign object removal from right femur, rectus femoris, biceps femoris, semitendinosis”. I don’t know any of those words, but I suppose it’s pretty obviously referring to his thigh branch.

If I want to be able to remove the object, I’ll need better access to his leg. I tear his pants, god this is embarrassing. Don’t look at his crotch you pervert oh my god. I remember that old class I took once. All I have to do is apply pressure and push the branch the rest of the way out. I undo the restraint on that leg, use the tablet to tell the nanny-arm-bot to administer local anaesthetic to the area, and lift the leg. I push the wood, it squelches, and I try not to vomit. Luckily, the branch was much longer than it was thick, and isn’t hard to push through in its shortened state.

I bandage the hole and let Armando do the rest. Hah. Take that tree, I win officially! I take the branch and examine it. Small, human-like veins are visible just under its bark. Perhaps it uses blood from the moon’s ocean to sustain itself? That’s weird, but not the weirdest thing about the tree, I suppose.

I take a closer look at the human(??) now that I'm no longer distracted by the removal of foreign objects or exhausted from carrying a guy twice as muscle-y as me. He has large, bulging, dangerously-close-to-the-surface veins that are a dark but vibrant red. I look back to his face, he has a dark, brooding look to him, but maybe that’s just because he’s been thrust out of an ocean of blood on a foreign moon and skewered by a tree. On the sides of his head are fin-like ears that look straight out of a picture book about sirens. They’re kind of beautiful, I think.

I sit on the chair beside the bed. I could be anywhere else, but like hell am I going to miss this guy waking up. The thought of having someone to possibly talk to again leaves me giddy with endorphins, but the thought of being eaten by a half-fish half-man makes me terrified and maybe a little excited at the same time.

When I wake up again, it’s dark in the lab. I sit up in the seat, my back sore from sleeping upright, and make eye contact with two glow-in-the-dark eyes. I freeze. He’s awake. “Oh my god…” I whisper to myself.