After Dark - 1. Chapter 1

Sunday, November 2

11:57 PM

Location: San Diego State University Grad-Student Dorms.

Weather: It's always sunny in S.D. Except at night.

I threw my smutty DH Lawrence novel across the room, slamming my wall with a big SWAPPOW. All because the book was written in first-fracking-person and started with the word “I.” I just wanted to read something for inspiration, because tonight I planned an all-niter for my ten-thousand word short story assignment. But, noooo. In every book I picked up, every sentence started with: I, I, and I. I couldn't stand the repetition! Couldn't authors be a little more creative and reconsider using that pronoun? The First-Person POV, in general was pretty self-absorbed, you know? Thankfully, when I was having problems working on my Genius-Art™, AKA my writing, and started getting bitchy like I am now, I looked up through my window at the moon.¹

La Luna. Mi amore. Me gusto mucho.²

You grant me so much perspective and inner peace, my lunar love.

No matter what, she always smiled, regardless of the nonsense happening down beneath here.

Miss Moon's pale relaxing light filtered into my dorm, and then when I reached over to grab my draft notebook, I saw something sparkly rocketing up to reach her, to touch my lovely La Luna.

Is that—a white comet for making wishes?

That can't be.

No. It’s either a plane or a satellite, because there were no shooting stars ever in my night sky. I had to compensate by wishing on manmade flying objects. Did wishing on a helicopter count for anything?

Poor moon. Her smile was a ruse, I knew deep down. She'll always be up there, all alone, unable to defy gravity. Unless of course, something catastrophic made her fall.

Tonight, I wish I wasn't all alone. I don't need a lover. Just someone to help me write. Maybe a muse. Hell's bells. Anything could happen.

But who's gonna wanna listen to the wishes of a sappy writer? Nobody.

Gah. I wanted to stop thinking—so I started writing, at last, making a wish on the moon.

Only six or so hours before the deadline.

I couldn't imagine what would happen if this story wasn't finished in time. Even the cynic in me would admit, the best stories were love stories.

(Dramatic voice) MEANWHILE...

Ten kilometers above SDSU, a Kaiju³ Japanese Silk Moth with a bus-sized body and a jumbo-jet wingspan, pierced through the stratosphere at a velocity of ten-thousand meters per second. She’d detected on her bushy antennae—like a pair of giant rainbow dusted mascara brushes—a breach through the earth’s exosphere, coming in hot.

Every now and then something got close enough to wreck the planet: solar flares, alien armadas, and then there was that meteor that hit Mexico millions of years ago, and it's still a mess.

Thank the stars for Princess Yayamai, earth's aforementioned guardian moth goddess, who vowed nothing would ever get past her.

Darting into the night, she felt the heady intrusion of alien life-energy pricking at receptors along her thorax. A heavy pressure drummed against her body. This is a big one, the moth thought. Wind gushed over her fuzzy head and starlight reflected off her mauve scales and owlish wing-spots. We haven’t had readings like this in almost a hundred years. Maybe I should call backup.

She searched her feelings for her friend, peeking at the ceiling of a thousand-million stars. Then a voice cried out. A wish fulfilled.

“I feel it too, Y.” The big moth heard the young man’s voice echo in her head. It was singsongy and unmistakably American, therefore prone to abbreviating foreign names.

“You gotta find the Author,” said the silk-moth. Her Third Eye told her she had no other options. “I got a bad feeling about this...”

Silence. Wind gushing.

“It’s a Trespasser, ain’t it?” the boy asked.

“And it's a whopper—check its power level,” the princess ordered. “My readings have to be off. There’s too much interference from the earth’s magnetic field.” At least that's what she hoped.

“Hold the phone…checking…checking…well butter my butt and call me a biscuit...it's over nine-thousaaaaaaaaaand!”

“Nine-thousand seven-hundred twelve to be exact,” said Yayamai. “Off the charts, Smalls.”

“Oy vey.”

“Whatever it is, I can’t wait for backup.” A dark energy spread over her body like an oven flame. “I suspect it’s going after the Plumed Serpent.”

“Oy vey! Please, princess, you gotta turn back. It’s too dangerous to go after it alone.”

“Keep your shirt on, it’s trajectory is changing. I’ll only scout ahead. I wanna at least see what we’re dealing with.” The big moth flipped her fore-wings like a rudder and barrel rolled, descending down towards terra firma. She felt the Trespasser's presence even closer. Her moth senses were in a complete tumble.

“Try to lock onto it, Y.”

“Gimme a second…I’m trying to get a pinpoint...” Using her psychic omni-directional projection, she squeezed her soccer ball-sized brain to visualize the alien presence.

Now she ascended towards the moon in a vertical trajectory, flapping both sets of wings frantically like one of those silly alderflies she dated at SDSU. She looked up at the crescent moon frowning on her. That’s where she’d intersect the Trespasser, hiding its silhouette along the dark side. Static black and white played in her brain like bad cable reception. She mentally squeezed harder and bent her antennae this-and-that-way to make the cerebral broadcast clearer.

There that should do it.

“Four o’clock, Y!”

And with a gasp, the silk moth saw the Trespasser; not just a psychic projection.

Darting out from the dark side of the moon, it raced at her, with it’s triple demonic eyes glowing, and a hundred tentacles spread out over the horizon like a Jackson Pollock painting, all squiggly and colorful like a bundle of mixed wires whooshing over to strangle your ass.

It sounded like a foghorn. The clouds dispersed as it cut through the air.

“Time for some fun,” hollered the princess. Her giant eyes turned green, gathering energy from the moon in orbit over her. Then rearing her head, and focusing the eye-ball energy, she released a concentrated blast of burning plasma from her antennae and shot it through the sky, going wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow.

There was a loud bigbadaboom on impact.

“Direct hit, Y!”

The Trespasser flailed around like a mass of burnt flying spaghetti, smoking from the new hole in its body. Some of its tentacles melted and dripped and the creature started steaming and hissing. But it was still charging at the giant silk moth. Growing bigger, flaring fire in its three eyes.

Lady Yayamai took a deep breath and raced around in an arc to flank her opponent.

“You gotta turn back, Y. It’s too dangerous,” cried the voice in her head.

“We’ll regroup at the Ivory Tower. Just trust me, Smalls.”

She made a pass, flying closer so she could hit the Trespasser again with another moonbeam. But before she could gather the energy, a single tentacle lashed out, whipped around her neck and started to strangle her. She dove left to snap the cord, but she couldn’t break free. What was this thing made of? Pure spider-silk?

The moth struggled, flapping her wings maniacally, while the Trespasser squeezed and tugged her closer to its amorphous body. She was stubborn as a donkey-beetle, kicking all six stubby legs. They were tipped with poison that melted your genitals. She’d die kicking, balls-deep if necessary. Mood-appropriate clouds gathered in the sky so the moon and stars veiled. Yayamai saw a crevice form in the strange creature that turned into a mouth with multiple rows of needle-sharp teeth. It’s tongue was black and moldy.

She gulped and rolled around crocodile-style, but the maneuver drained what little stamina she had left, and her eyes started losing their shimmer, blackening.

The boy’s voice cried out. “You gotta use the Phoenixbomb, Y, it’s the only way.”

“You’re actually suggesting that?”

“I know it means you have to die again. But…I’ll find you.”

“You always do, Smalls.”

She and the Trespasser were locked in a tug-o-war of predator-prey, but knowing she must ensure the safety of the planet, she let her muscles relax and she stopped resisting. The Trespasser slowly dragged her closer to its mouth. Its breath smelled of wet dog and spilled three day-old milk curdling on a carpet.

“You gotta find the Author, Smalls. He’s the only one who can stop the breach.”

“Wait, it's that serious?”

“This fathead here,” she nodded toward the Trespasser, “he’s part of an advance guard. I’m close enough to read some of its thoughts. There’ll be more coming through. Somehow the dimensional barriers between Universes are collapsing.”

“And only the Author can stop it?”

“I don’t wanna give you false hope, but he’s the best chance we have. I know how much of an asshole he is.”

“It’s been almost a century since anyone saw him, he’s most likely dead now.”

“There’s always a successor. Find him, Smalls. Body’s die, but the Spirit lives on.”

“So you’re really going out?”

“With a bang.”

“Bigbadaboom baby. Think you can gimme an ETA for your return to this dimension?”

“Save the world first. Then you can worry about me coming back. Bye, Smalls.”

“Until another day.”

The transmission cut off as the Trespasser sunk its teeth into the princess. Her scales scattered into a cloud of dust as he adjusted her in his mouth with a warty tongue and rolled her around to savor her flavorful fat body. Whatever. I’ve experienced worse pain. So it wants to drain all the Moon energy from me? Just what kinda being is this? Well...enough idle thoughts from this idle fellow.

Time to blow this joint.

“Phoenix! Bomb! Powerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” With a single psychic motion, and a melodramatic cry, the moth’s eyes flared and turned red. There was a gradual building sound, like a teakettle whistling to a boil.

And bigbadaboom.

After a huge red flash in the sky over the university, the smoke eventually cleared, and the night was quiet again.

For now.