by N. Y. Weaver
shining white space capsule slowly traversed the starless night, seemingly engulfed in the desolate darkness of space. Inside sat a man, tough, intelligent, experienced, the perfect astronaut. An American flag was sewn into the left arm of his bright white space-suit, while ‘Captain Moon’ was lettered across his chest in thick black print. Alone he sat, staring at a small gold clock on the vast dashboard of the capsule, contemplating the magnitude of his present mission. Little was he to know that the next moment would change his life forever.
Captain Moon heard a sharp rap on the capsule. The light above his head began to flicker and the small clock began to run backwards. Moon looked around in dismay but without alarm. He pressed buttons and flicked switches on and off in a last ditch effort as the capsule began its descent to Earth. Increasing in speed almost exponentially as it plummeted, the sparkling white streak began to burn as it re-entered Earth’s atmosphere, creating a bright orange-red hue across the morning sky.
It was too late. Moon pressed the eject button. The capsule seemed to fall out from under him as he fell at a slower rate than the heavier capsule. Still falling but with the capsule now far out of his range, he pulled his parachute chord. He felt a sharp tug on his back as the parachute deployed and as he unsteadily drifted in and out of consciousness, he began to fall towards the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean.
Moon felt himself being plunged into the vast depths of the ocean. Sound became muffled, serene in a sense. It would have been easy for him to let himself sink to the ocean floor and die but this was not in his nature. Fighting against the water he pushed himself upwards, spluttering, coughing and gasping as he reached the surface. There was nothing but the pale blue of the ocean in every direction except one. Directly behind him was a large enticing golden-beached island with a piercing mountain situated at its heart, surrounded by a dense tangle of trees. Regaining his bearings he swam conservatively to the beach where an ominous tribe stood watching his arrival.
The experienced astronaut clambered onto the beach in his tattered space-suit of which only the pants torn at the knees and bulky bright, white chest piece remained. Moon maintained his expressionless demeanour, while his insides crawled with fear but most of all loathing of the sight of the mangled and distorted tribe members. Mostly a blotched brown or white colour, they were taller and skinnier than the average man. However their repulsive and slightly horrifying appearance was a result of their spider-like limbs, jagged teeth and minuscule black eyes. There were a few with more normal facial features who looked different from the others, but each of the eight or so gathered tribe members had the same heavily distorted physical appearance.
One of the closest of this tribe gestured the astronaut to follow with a slow beckoning of his longer index finger. Without a sound all of the tribe members turned and began to walk across the beach. Captain Moon assessed his options and despite the intense feeling of foreboding in his heart, followed his brain’s urge that following them would be his only chance of survival and perhaps return to the civilized world. Keeping a steady distance the captain followed the tribe as they walked across the beach and around the circumference of the island. Following a large expanse of rocky terrain the group reached another beach where Moon saw the full tribe of about forty, standing and watching their arrival.
Reaching the full group Moon saw a large-backed and delicately carved wooden throne in which a heavily jewelled crown rest on the head of an ageing and ostensibly distantly-minded king. The throne rested on a small hill facing the sea, only a few metres away from the beach that Moon and the rest of the tribe stood at. Deep into the tangled network of trees that inhabited the island a solid black doorway with a circular golden emblem could be seen.
From the corner of his eye Moon saw a distorted fist pound into his jaw. Momentarily shocked Moon quickly regained his composure and returned the fist with a heavy uppercut followed by a quick jab to the head sending the tribe member flying backwards into the sand. This man retreated and another flew in from behind him, tackling him to the ground. The tribe watched intently as previously selected individuals took turns combating the new arrival. Into the back of the fallen astronaut’s head came blow after blow after blow, before he managed to roll over and overpower the bony attacker’s attempts to strangle him and shove him off into the sand.
Moon stood up and another came, this time with a long wooden spear. The spear-tip glistened as it speedily approached Moon’s chest. Moon quickly adjusted his position so that the spear whistled past him and stuck in the sand behind him like a javelin. Landing a punch into the abdomen of his current opponent, who huddled over in agony, Moon then kicked the wooden spear in half, swiftly grabbed the half with the spear-tip and lunged it into the neck of his opponent. Moon readied himself again and was relieved when he noticed that no other man tried to attack, rather they smiled at him. But his brief moment of relief subsided when he saw the blood that was soaking into the sand was a sinister green.
“What… what are you people?” Moon asked in disbelief.
“Take a deep breath. And then drink the blood you have spilt,” the nearest tribesmen returned to the bewildered fallen captain “Everything will become clear soon.”
The tribe closed in a circle around Moon, there were too many for Moon to fight in his current state. Moon slowly got to his knees next to the person he had slain. Unresistingly he dipped his head and sucked the still flowing blood out of the dead warrior. Standing up Moon felt his physique painfully morphing ever so slightly. He became taller but did not gain any weight, his right arm grew faintly longer and heavier and his irises changed from bright blue to fully black.
“Now, tell me who you are!” Moon demanded, now towering over the tribe.
“Who we are. Your one of us now” one of the tribe members replied.
“We are merely collectors. At least today we are,” an older tribesman explained “Centuries ago our people were members of a highly prosperous yet surreptitious civilization but were banished from their homeland for sins that could not be atoned for. Generations later we live where our ancestors were banished and are now buried, slowly moving towards a position that will allow our people to rise!”
“So why did you make my capsule crash, only to attack me and then make me one of you?” Moon questioned angrily, his sharp teeth jutting menacingly.
“We were not involved bring you to this island. But when we saw you, we thought we may be able to use you. Like those who have come to this island before you either by intent or luck, you were tested and when you were proven worthy you were given the privilege to become one of us, so that you may assist us.”
“No. I’m not helping you, you animals!” Moon yelled.
“You have no choice. This path is of benefit to all of us on this island. You will act as one of us and obey the orders of our king.”
A dark cloud passed overheard. Evil had overcome the very soul of Moon. From that very moment, there was no other emotion but hate in the heart of the fallen hero. Pulling the spear-head from the neck of the dead warrior Moon stabbed the sharp object through the temple of the old man who fell to the sandy beach dead. The tribe became a frenzied mess, lashing out in every possible way at Moon. Fists, spears and stones flew towards Moon as he roared in anger. Biting the flesh off an arm that came his way and throwing punches did not satisfy his anger.
Reaching into the mob of attackers he pulled a machete, slicing at the throats and faces of nearby victims as they cried in pain. Moon stabbed into the abdomen of one while another had has throat mangled and lay on the ground struggling to breathe. The mob tried to surround Moon, but he singlehandedly and cruelly murdered every attacker that made a strike towards him. Soon the bodies were so numerous that they began to pile on top of each other. Moon found the highest ground he could by standing at the top of the deathly pile of bodies, his deathly black eyes darting between approaching attackers. The bloody green machete killed another and another and another until Moon had decimated sixteen of the tribe,
sustaining only minor cuts to his own body while creating a pyramid of dead bodies as they piled over one another.
At last the remaining half of the tribe seemed to sense the futileness of their attempts to face the madness of the new Moon and began to back off. Quickly sensing his chance Moon leaped off the pyramid of dead bodies and began to clamber madly over the hill where the indifferent king sat in his great throne. The king made no attempt at movement as Moon stabbed him through the heart and threw him face first into the dirt. Picking up the heavy golden crown he placed it on his own head and slowly sat down in the intricately detailed wooden throne, a look of malcontent written across his snarling face.
“BOW BENEATH ME FOR I AM YOUR NEW KING!” Moon shouted to the remaining tribe.
Diligently they got on their knees and lay their faces and arms in the sand.
Gazing out across the sea Moon squinted from under his crown as he laid eyes on an elegant French battleship approaching from the blue horizon.
Amalgamation
Gracefully stepping out of the unsteady horse-drawn carriage he had being riding in for the past week, Musashi looked gladly out into the vast array of ships docked in the