See Not The Moon
3:04 A.M.
An irritating, blaring, whooping sort of sound, which would have fit better coming from the civil defense sirens in the streets, filled the heavy, cloaking darkness of the night air. But the sound came not from the streets. Indeed, not a breath of wind nor any other whisper of sound stirred in the darkness, save for alert.
Groaning irritably, the woman sat up in bed, shoving tousled strands of dark hair away from her face, blindly reaching for a pair of glasses, as the other hand groped in the darkness for her phone. Squinting as her thumb brushed the button which would have unlocked the device, she gasped softly. In big, bold letters, the official warning lay, covering the first third of her locked screen:
"Do Not Look At The Moon. Do not look at it’s reflection, in mirror, water, etc...”
The rest of the message trailed off.
Below it, dozens, no, hundreds, of other messages, most from numbers she did not recognize, all bearing the same message:
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“It’s beautiful out tonight. Look outside.”
The woman slumped, biting her lower lip, nervous energy coursing over her. She fiddled with the phone, trying and failing to unlock it a few times before realizing that something… someone from the government, perhaps? Had likely put a lock on her device. Hers?
Her eyes flew open. No. Probably as many as possible, trying to stop… whatever was causing the sea of messages. She tapped the pad of her finger against her lips, thinking. Images. If reflections were enough to cause… whatever. What about pictures? Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat. Had whatever…. Whatever was going on… weaponized the internet? She reached for the remote, but her t.v showed only a black screen. A little green light told her that it was on, it worked. But for some reason, probably the same as the phones, there was a total information blackout occurring.
Glance back at the clock on the phone.
3:15 A.M.
Where was the moon this time of night? She fidgeted, twinning the soft fabric of her nightclothes in her fingers. Behind the house. Maybe… just maybe… if she was quiet and careful… she could look. Keep the moon behind her, behind her building, and just… peak.
Check the streets. Find out what she could without risking danger. In the darkness, she stumbled, muffled mewls and gasps of pain as she bumped into walls, and chairs, running into her cat at one point, who was nervously trying to twine itself about her legs.
Finally, she reached the window she sought, her fingers pulling apart the long dark curtains just a little. Barely an inch, just to see the streets below. With a gasp, she stumbled backward, the back of her head slamming into something behind her with a cracking sound that filled her ears, and the world went from dim-lit darkness to pitch-perfect black.