Author: BetaMaster PM
Short story I wrote for school, starring Balthazar, a guy who's in love with the moon. 'A Narrative Chronicling My Lifelong Insatiable Desire To Live On The Great Pie In The Sky'Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Words: 613 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 08-30-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2409293
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A Narrative Chronicling My Lifelong Insatiable
Desire To Live On The Great Pie In The Sky
Hi. My name is Balthazar, and I want to live on the moon.
When I say that, I don't mean that I want to live in a little space-bubble with a bunch of scientists. I want to live on the moon, by myself.
I've always wanted to.
Like, ever since I was a little kid, I would spend hours looking up at the moon and imagining where I would live. Then I'd go inside when my mom would yell at me, and I'd stay up late and get up early, so I could draw pictures of me on the moon.
Well, it didn't really look like that. I was six, and the drawings were little stick figures of myself, with some black holes drawn around me. That was me. On the white moon. With craters.
I still have all these drawings; they're in a box in my closet.
When I was a kid, I'd just
dream about living there. When I found out there wasn't any oxygen
on the moon, I was crushed. I went into a state of severe depression.
I know, it sounds
sad, but the moon was my one goal for my future. I mean, I've rationalised it since. I'm okay with it. I'll just bring my own oxygen with me when I go. I can live off of that.
But I digress. I'm getting ahead of myself.
As I grew older, my drawings became more detailed. When I was 15, I bought a poster-sized photograph of the moon. I spent hours plotting where I'd live, which crater would offer the best view, and what location would shield me best from meteors.
You know, when I was younger and got depressed after finding out the lack of oxygen on the moon, my parents took me to see a psychologist. I didn't talk to him much. He told my parents I distance myself from intimacy. Kind of true, I don't want to get close to people and then leave them all behind when I go to the moon.
I never mentioned the moon to him. I dunno what he would have said about that. I just refer to it as my lunarphilia. I really do love the moon.
Anyway, I got off-topic again.
These days, I've been writing stories of going to the moon. I'd be my own country, my own planet. Leader, dictator, and god of all around me. I'd bring my own oxygen, of course, so I didn't have to rely on importation. Importation would lead to a dependency on my providers, and I don't want to have to depend on a planet four times the size of my own.
It's funny, ever since I fell in love with the moon, I've lived each day as if I expected to leave for the moon tomorrow.
At the same time though, I've never quite believed that I'd be going there anytime soon. I've hoped, sure, but never quite believed. These days, it's become much more unrealistic. Much more of a dream. A pie in the sky, if you will. I know that I don't have nearly enough money to take the trip to the moon. It's caused a lot of stress on me.
But, then again, I guess that's why I'm here with all of you tonight. Let me start over.
My name is Balthazar, and I'm an alcoholic.