Pretend the date was September 20, 2030. Now write a journal entry describing your day:

September 20, 2030-

I’m feeling very angry and terrified. I cannot wait to see my husband and son although I know I will never see them again. At times it has been very lonely being the moon station’s psychologist, but I fear lonely is the way I will die. My diagnosis of the 20 people stationed here, discovering the economic viability of resources on the moon, has lead to the conclusion that they are not the same people that arrived here five years earlier. Out of the 20 patients I have here, all show dramatic changes to their habits in the way they’ve lived here. These symptoms started around three weeks ago: Insanity, fear, and aggression. I’ve sadly seen all of them firsthand:

Katie, the Botanist, has destroyed all the plant life we had brought with us. It seems she has set fire to the whole unit and we were forced to close it off without promise of future rebirth of the plants.

Joe, our Mechanic and Pilot, switched all the oxygen tanks on the space suits with liquid nitrogen tanks. Six of our number died because of it. He also dismantled the radio and NASA links, insisting we are better left alone to complete our mission. So we have been out of contact with Earth for three weeks now. He then locked himself inside our only return ship and released the airlock, leaving it open so all who didn’t resign in closed room, died. He has surely perished.

John, the Cook, launched all our food into space and tried to eat a knife. He was still alive last I saw, restrained in the med lab, but with a lingering wish for suicide.

God, I am so hungry. The food has been gone for weeks now. I try not to think about it. Usually I am too scared to think about it. I wanted to consult these strange occurrences with the doctor, but Joann, or Doc. McKenna, tried to perform an autopsy on herself.
I thought these were characteristics of stress-induced trauma, but I was wrong. Dr. Chaney, our leader in the search for resources, told me a few weeks ago they apparently found something below in a crater…some form of a gas. I believe it is what has infected the people living in this dome. And…I do believe it has gotten into the oxygen tanks of the moon base. One by one, our number declines and soon I will be the only one left.
I find myself writing this on the smooth floors of my office instead of typing it into my computer. It would be easier to find on the walls, easier to be cautioned about our mission, easier to destroy if NASA finds out. I thought I was safe here. Locked in my office. But…I was supposed to be going home soon! Oh how I long to hold my little boy. A rescue ship should be on its way but it will be too late. I know what I must do. I am mainly thinking of my husband and son. I am sure Cale is becoming my average text-book case—craving attention and when he doesn’t get it, he becomes… not himself. I don’t want it to be insanity. And I don’t want one of his few memories of his mother to be her strapped to a lab table. I remember the look on my husband’s face when I told him I made the short list and had a high chance of going to the moon…that look will never be
misplaced in my memory. He knew as well as I knew that once here, I would
never be the same. I could almost laugh at the irony of it all, but the lack of oxygen has restricted my movements. The writing on the wall is starting to resemble small smears for I am steadily sinking to the floor. Remembering what my husband said, I knew he was right….


I just made the biggest decision of my life. A few days ago I stole Captain Allen’s Identification pass key from his dead body. With it I just activated the moon base’s self destruct sequence and I can hear the alarm counting down its last seconds. I tell myself that it is to save Earth and my family, but I know in my heart it is to save my own soul….

By Jess&Jesse
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There you have it; my stab at writing. It was fun to be the creator for a change, but I think I like being the reader instead. Although... I might change my mind when I live in my little retirement cottage by the sea...in 40 years....

And as always, thanks for reading!