"To the Moon and Back" by Alex Pearson

(Preface: Common sense does not apply)

Simon’s feet padded quietly along the empty street, his bare soles collecting small bits of gravel and dirt as he walked. His eyes scanned the road set out before him, careful of broken glass and cracks in the pavement, just like his mom always warned him. The houses that surrounded him were dark and silent, their perfectly groomed lawns glistening with the dimly lit dew. Above him, the moon dangled in the sky like bait on a hook, and Simon’s eyes widened almost as if to mimic it. The light washed everything in silver, glinting off the sides of garters and illuminating a common scene with mischief and magic. Porches dotted with toys and rocking chairs that seemed to play by themselves. Somewhere not far off he could hear the neighborhood raccoons finding their dinners, the telltale scratching, squeaking, and clattering bins the only thing interrupting an otherwise mute night. Elegant cars lined the pitch street, their reflectors glinting in the stretching distance, seeming to go on forever. Tucking small hands into his Power Rangers jacket, Simon sighed dramatically and kicked a stray pebble at his feet, a pout building on his mouth. 

After a sour talk with his mother about bedtime, followed by a shouting match and a few mistaken choice words, the boy found himself very grounded. Sent to bed with a stern word and the most frightening expression his mother was capable; disappointment, Simon stewed in his frustrations until he finally gave up and made his decision. 

He was going to run away to the moon.

So, after writing a hasty note reading “Going 2 moon, never coming back” and rolling out his window, he set off on his journey, only to remember he’d forgotten to put on his shoes.

Too late to turn back now.

He doubted he’d need shoes on the moon anyway.

Taking another look at his home, Simon replayed the fight with his mom in his head, and bitter tears began to build, obscuring his fairy-tale filtered eyes with a slightly darker lens. Bewitching the suburbia and turning everyday objects sinister, his childhood kingdom became consumed with doubt and umbra, its friendly familiarity foreign in the night. The perfect rows of mailboxes cast shadows that looked like soldiers, and chipping picket fences echoed prison bars. Streetlamps paving every side glowed a burnt yellow, casting just enough light to make the dark look threatening, like eyes watching from just out of sight.

Fear started to accumulate in Simon’s gut, and he tightened his hands in his pockets.

Time to go.

Using the back of his sleeve to wipe his eyes, Simon steeled himself and snapped his legs together, turning his face to the moon once more and closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, an entirely new view greeted him. Before him laid out long-reaching dusty plain, dyed grey and white, only disrupted by the oddly shaped dot in the horizon. He’d done it.

Simon broke into a face-splitting grin, and proceeded to jump excitedly into the air, which he soon realized was a mistake in zero gravity. He flailed about until he was able to regain his footing, and soon found himself crouching in relief, his panic at the thought of being carried off into space sobering the boy up. Observing the ground now that he was so close to it, Simon could see small particles of dust floating just above the surface, fluttering under his body whenever he moved. The shoelaces on his light-up sketchers rose gently in the atmosphere and stayed there, softly hovering. A giggle escaped his lips and he ruffled the floor, enjoying the way the moon powder danced around his hand. Truly a child in the largest sandbox ever, Simon played for a good while before eventually growing bored and going off to explore.

Invigorated by the new environment, Simon started by running. Well, if you could call it that. Haphazardly bouncing and stumbling along, the ecstatic boy “ooh’ed” and “ahh’ed” at each and every warped rock, deep crater, and raised mountain of soil. The smaller craters he used as slides and hideouts, while the larger ones he dragged his foot along, writing his name in the fragile exterior. Making use of the lack of gravity, Simon also worked on his throwing arm, gathering up all of the vaguely round shaped stones he could find. When he got sick of watching them disappear from view, he headed for the strange dot he’d seen in the distance upon his arrival.

It seemed to take years to get all the way over to it, but once he saw the frozen-state red, white, and blue star flag, Simon decided the trip was absolutely worth it. Immediately he pulled the pole from its spot buried in the moon and proceeded to play astronaut. However, because he didn’t pay attention in school, he could only call himself Buzz.

So busy playing with the planted symbol of patriotism, Simon almost didn’t notice the enormous sight hanging in space before him.

Almost.

With a single turn to the side the entire Earth laid out before him, huge and mighty and totally overwhelming. Awe loosened his grip on the flagpole and Simon let it float there beside him for a moment, too distracted by the sight of his home world. He stared at it for ages, longer than he’d played or pouted, longer than he took on his homework.

Something must have dawned on him as he gazed upon the Earth, because in the next few minutes, Simon was just a crying little boy again, the words “momma” and “sorry” dripping from his mouth in unintelligible sobs. He closed his eyes and let loose a wail.

Then before he knew it, he was being gathered up in familiar, loving, wonderful arms, being kissed and fussed and shushed. His bewildered mother cradled Simon in her arms, standing in her dressing gown and slippers in the middle of their street. She pet his hair and whispered words of comfort to him, smelling unfamiliar smells in his clothes and clutching him closer. This was where he belonged. This was his home, and this was his mother and he loved her to the moon and back.