The Moon Girl

Three Prompts - Tin, burn, moon.

The Moon Girl

Janet had always dreamed of travelling to the moon. As a child, she would gaze at the silvery disc through his bedroom window, tracing the craters with her finger and imagining herself bouncing across its dusty plains. She crafted rockets from tin cans, cardboard, plastic bottles—anything he could find. Then, she would launch them from the garden with a burst of imagination.

Janet’s dream lingered through the years. As an engineer, she often worked late on ambitious projects inspired by her fascination with space. Friends began to refer to her affectionately as “The Moon Girl,” a nickname that reflected both their admiration for her persistence and their playful teasing of her lofty goals.

One autumn evening, as the harvest moon hung low and bright, Janet stood in her workshop, surrounded by blueprints and bits of metal. She smiled, remembering those childhood rockets. This time, though, she wasn’t pretending. She’d built a small, experimental craft, just big enough for one dreamer.

From the back of her Land Rover, sitting on her trailer that doubled up as the Launch Pad, stood ‘Dreamer One’. Janet had run a hundred simulations on her laptop, all ended in one hundred per cent good to go.

The launch was quiet. No crowds, no cameras. Just Janet, the moon, and the boom, boom of her heart. Sitting in the cockpit with the astronaut's suit she bought off eBay, she was ready.

As the engines ignited, she could feel the burn of the thrusters on her back. Reaching over, she pressed the green button. “No going back now,” she said quietly to herself. The world she left started to get smaller as Janet soared upward, heart pounding with every kilometre.

She didn’t know if she’d make it. At this moment, she didn’t care. She was off.

But as the Earth shrank behind her and the moon grew ever closer, Janet realised that sometimes, the journey itself was the greatest adventure. She remembered, as a child, going on holiday with her parents, the fun they had in the car, playing Eye Spy, and making names from the registration plate of the car in front. She now realises that it was a ploy to keep her from getting bored on the long trip.

As Janet's craft made its descent, the moon’s surface transformed from a distant glow into an endless expanse of grey. The familiar craters and rugged terrain she had seen through telescopes for years were now within her reach.

 The engines whispered their final notes, and with a gentle thud, the ship settled into the dust. Silence wrapped around her, broken only by the soft hum of the space suit.

Janet gazed out the window, her heart pounding. This was the moment she had imagined since she was a child; now, the moon wasn't just a distant dream, it was a place right under her feet. A tear welled up in her eye.

She stepped out, feeling the strange lightness of lunar gravity. Each movement sent her floating, almost dancing, across the powdery ground. She scooped up a handful of moon dust, letting it slip through her gloved fingers, and gazed at the Earth, a blue marble, hanging in the black sky. A thought to all her friends, who believed in her, but would never know.

Janet stopped for a moment, thinking about those who had gone before her and reflecting on what they felt and experienced. As a tribute to her earlier rocket creations, she set down a little flag made from tin and cardboard.

But getting back home was another thing.