THE SHADOW ON THE MOON: A SHORT STORY

It was December 1970. Christmas was round the corner, sending out its warm signals like a supernova. The annual Yule Tree was being erected in the grounds of  Wayne Manor. It was the biggest one in Gotham and like every year the City’s well-to-do had turned out in the hope that some of the Wayne starlight would rub off on them. When the Christmas Star was placed on top of the tree they all cooed.

After the ceremony Bruce Wayne sat in his study and felt empty. Christmas was a time of sadness for him since his parents had been slaughtered in a Gotham back alley. The void in his heart was like the blackness of space and felt as though it would consume him. He poured himself a large Scotch and drank deeply.

Gotham was desperate for meaning. It was a City at odds with itself rife with greed and avarice. Like a garish Prom night caught forever in a Kodak moment, it was drowning in a vat of cheap drugs and liquor scared of what might be revealed by the sunrise.

Bruce Wayne was despondent. Trying to distract himself he sifted through the pile of mail on his desk. Most were obviously hack Christmas cards from people keen to simply send something to Gotham’s richest man. He pushed them aside and noticed a large FedEx envelope languishing at the bottom. He hadn’t noticed it earlier. It was from the Lunar Orbitor.

The Lunar Orbitor was at the cutting edge of space photography and Wayne Enterprises had invested heavily in its development in its own R&D Department. Bruce had always been fascinated by the Moon though he wasn’t sure why. Since his parents died he had been drawn to the night and the stars.  He often found himself pacing his Manor’s grounds during the hours of darkness staring at the ghostly orb, fixed in orbit like a lost child incapable of coming home. The ‘69 Moon Landing had increased his fascination to almost obsessive levels. He could have easily been on the Apollo crew himself, given all his connections, but he would have hated the media attention that followed. Those guys were heroes.

Besides the Orbitor, Bruce had sponsored other projects around the world, all driven by his pre-occupation by our satellite: Moonbase Central, a proposed lunar colony;  Luna Beach,  a chain of space theme parks and most secret of all, psychological studies in split personilty and lunacy. He had even invested in the conservation of wolves, animals who seemed to share his love of the night

But none of these projects had given real meaning to his life. He was listless and lacked purpose and like Gotham itself alone in the dark. Even NASA seemed to have lost its way now that Man had set foot on the Moon. He needed definition, a sign that this darkness he felt had life.

He took another swig of Scotch and pulled open the FedEx envelope. He tipped out its contents on his desk and pulled his table lamp closer. There were about thirteen black and white A3 photographs all taken by the Orbitor in December. He received an exclusive batch each month.  He looked at each one in turn slowly, happy to be immersed in his fascination once more. The Orbitor was his favourite project because it brought him the closest to the Moon without the glare of publicity.

Studying one particular photograph he noticed a small shadow set against the pale orb. Taking a magnifying glass he looked closely at the shadow and tried to discern its shape. He leant closer to the glossy paper pulling the brass lamp in further. What was it? He squinted to gain purchase. The shape flickered in the lamplight, surfaced from the fuzz and revealed its true identity.

A bat! It must have flown higher and higher to reach its beloved Moon, echo-sounding the Orbitor like a buoy in the Ocean. Most likely the bat had risked everything to fly that high. The camera’s hyper-sensitive lower lens had picked up its echoes and given them shape, captured exclusively for Bruce Wayne’s eyes that December night. It was rare moment and was not lost on the troubled tycoon.

He drank the last of his Scotch, walked to the window and stared out at the clearing Moon. “A bat” he whispered “ a bat!”

Words and pictures by Woodsy