Luna

The wind

Wind. One of the most powerful forces of nature. Essential for survival and destructive at the same time. It carries you and releases you. Everything is transported by the wind, not only nature, but also man. I used to curse the wind, but nowadays I crave it. I haven't felt a breeze, a gust or a sigh of wind for too long. It was dead quiet in the sandy valley. Death and destruction and a heat that burned everything that tried to grow. The heat was oppressive and burned through my nearly translucent white skin. Jets of salty moisture ran down my body. Once I reached the ground, it disappeared within seconds. The vast valley in its terra-colored sand lay deserted. Nothing came in and nothing came out of here. I slowly wiped the remaining sweat from my forehead with my palm, automatic but utterly useless. My translucent skin had not been colored one iota over the years and my body could not get used to the extreme weather. The year-round heat was oppressive and burning. We had The First Landing to thank for this. The First Landing had destroyed all sorts of things, simply our entire lives. As if that were not enough, continents remained stuck in seasons. The world was divided into the four seasons: Winter, Summer, Spring and Autumn. You can guess, our season was Summer and then really high summer.My white long hair stuck to the underside of my exposed back. I pulled the elastic out of my long white hair, shook it out and then tied it again.
Over the years and no barber, my hair had grown almost to my buttocks. The women did keep each other's hair slightly trimmed, but with the instruments we had here it only stayed to the tips. I pulled the strap of my top back over my shoulder. Gradually I looked more and more like a walking skeleton than an actual living human being. My collarbones stuck out and my shoulders were more points than round. With difficulty, then, I scooped the heavy toxic waste into one of the large wagons. That was also what we had been locked in here for, under heavy guard. Since The First Landing, the men and women were separated and assigned to locations. The women here were divided into groups of 4 or 6 and each group was given a wagon into which to scoop the waste. My muscles and joints ached terribly and I peered into the distance to see how far away the other groups were. But in vain, the other groups were still working. I turned my head with difficulty to one of the other groups to my left. One of the women has now actually collapsed and cannot get up. A few days ago she started coughing blood, one of the signs that the poison is eating her body inside. Death is then only a few days away. Before long, one of the keepers storms toward the woman. The other women in the groups flinch and leave the woman to her fate. Fear and the urge to survive prevailed. The keeper began to beat her violently with the cane and yelled at her to get up. Blood gushed from her mouth and she cried out. My stomach turned. She will soon be in a better place than here. Tears burned behind my eyes and I started shoveling further, trembling. A stab of pain traveled through my hands. Trembling, I turned my hands over and saw that the blisters had burst and the wooden shovel was covered in blood. The smell of iron slowly penetrated my nose, making my stomach turn again. I had skipped my breakfast this morning. Good food was not available here. You had to be happy with a half moldy sandwich and fresh water, nothing more and nothing less. The women lived in a large wooden barn, which looked like it might collapse at any moment. The barn contained simple beds, chairs and tables. There is a dilapidated kitchen and fresh water is offered a few times a day. There is no shower or toilet and you will have to do it in a bucket. Your sense of time is completely lost here and the only way to make an estimate of time is to look at the position of the moon. I believe that everyone here looks at the moon daily and not just to see what time it is. During the First Landing, the very wealthy and richest people fled to the moon and built their lives here. The rest of the population could not afford this and, in addition, were not allowed on the moon. The waste of the population living on the moon is shot to earth. The remaining population now lives in unsafe and unsustainable situations, trapped by the government and forced to clean up toxic waste. We are to be replaced and do not matter. The moon is the only way out.

Slowly I elevate my head up to look at the position of the moon. It is so white and radiant, sometimes if I keep looking at it too long I float away from this terrible place and imagine that I am finally safe and most of all happy. I feel a light breeze go through my hair and for a second I enjoy the cool breeze, until I realize it never blows. I feel the panic flare up in my body and I look around me wildly. Complete chaos breaks out. Everyone starts running in different directions as soon as the planes fly over and start shooting. I don't wait a second and run with another woman toward the boulders for shelter. Left and right, I feel the rising sand coming up from the fired shots against my legs. Sand and pebbles accumulate in my shoes and through the huge clouds of dust I cannot see my hand in front of my face. I stumble and fall to the ground with my face scraping. My body needs a moment and I lie very still. Very slowly I turn my head, for I want to see what I have tripped over. A combination of shock, disgust and nausea waves through my body as I see what I have tripped over. I slap a hand in front of my mouth to avoid making a sound and feel my rising tears stinging. I try to swallow them but slowly salty tears roll down my cheek. I take one last look at the body I stumbled over. Despite being shot, she radiates calm and lies very peacefully. She had a beautiful even and fine face, her dark hair has partially fallen out of its elastic in all the chaos, and her eyes are still dark brown. Gently I closed her eyes with my fingertips and whispered the words, "feel free." Freedom was for us a concept we should have let go of, we will never know it as we used to. The only way out here was simply death. Almost every day someone went down here and hung themselves from the railing of the wooden railing. I didn't blame them; life here is pretty hopeless. I take another deep breath and prepare myself to stand up. Through the clouds of dust, I try to determine where to go. I peer into the distance and those the boulders from my first attempt. I run as fast as I can until I feel a sharp pain in my chest. The world stops spinning for a second, I gasp and grasp at the spot where I was hit. I look down and see that my hands are turning dark red. Everything around me starts spinning and everything fades further into the background. I no longer feel my entire body and fall to the ground. My white skin slowly turns more and more red. Gasping for breath, I try to lie down on my back with the thought in the back of my mind that the blood will flow less hard from my body, pointless in other words. Breathing is increasingly difficult and my body no longer feels like my own. I turn my head to the side and look at all the running footsteps passing by. Actually, I would like to scream that there is no point and they should surrender to death, but I don't have the strength. The sound of bombs and shots fired slowly fade away more and more. Ideally, I would like to close my eyes for a second, really just for a moment. After all, why should I even bother? Will this be my end then? Will I simply die like this? I now understand why the woman I stumbled over radiated so much peace; I feel it myself. The moment I want to close my eyes I feel two big warm hands grasping my arms under my armpits. Shuffling along the ground I am pulled along and my body no longer has the strength to resist.