Rose had no idea how she got her name. Her father said that her mother had chosen the name but she had been gone for a long time. Father tried to describe what a rose looked like and even drew one in the loose sand for her once, but there was no way to preserve it. The image of her namesake soon began to fade from her memory. She looked up into the dark sky, basking in the Earth glow; her father and mother had been born there before it all had gone so terribly wrong. She knew the scientists had been building a rocket to try and go back, to see if it was possible to live there again. They said the young ones like her would not be able to go right away since they had been born here, at the edge of light and dark. Theirs was the neutral zone since those living on the bright side and those living in the eternal deep of the dark side rarely agreed, save on the idea of having their offspring birthed at the joining place of the two halves of the rock. They had also agreed to have the children–Rose’s generation–draw lots for who would be some of the first to go once the adults went back and made a place for them. Rose and her littermates were the first to live in an uneasy truce, some from bright side lineage and others from dark side. Everyone saw it as a new beginning, even if Earth was no longer habitable. Rose clutched her lottery envelope to her chest, breathing with anticipation. The stories her father had told her of wonderful landscapes, animals larger than the lunar bugs they trapped for fun, atmosphere-producing flora and fauna (she loved the sound of those words), strange but wonderful wet spaces called lakes and rivers, and a sky full of colors made her long for a chance to be chosen. She took a deep breath and opened the seal.
Written for this week’s Picture It & Write. Click below to add yours!