The Red Moon in the Sky
A photo of Lenin hung in the corner, lit by black and white light of the television. I plunged my hand into the deep bowl of salted sunflower seeds, and took a deep sip of cola.
“Oh, Sofia, these scalloped potatoes are simply exquisite, and this chicken breast is amazing,” said our neighbour Alexi. I was never very fond of him, he was stuck up. He had an economic planning job. My eyes stuck to the screen. A simple image of a lunar landscape.
“I totally agree with you on that!” said my dad. He was an agricultural worker. “I picked these myself!”
“He’s approaching! Five minutes.” said the television.
“Well, I guess we’d better join him on the sofa.” said my mum. Soon they came and joined me, we all sat on the beat up leather couch.
The Lunar landing module was in clear view from the small radio equipped camera on the surface. It made its steep descent. A man emerged from the module. He planted a bust of lenin, and the red flag of the USSR.
“We’ve made it, four hundred thousand kilome-” The signal devolved into static for some time. When it buzzed back in. The red and white suit sat staring at the moderately sized marine marble hanging just out of reach.