It felt like a flip of a switch but, I think it began slowly. First the light dimmed; then the birds grew quiet; the stars burned brighter; days shortened and the nights lengthened. And then, the moon began to shine — hot.

I only noticed the changes when I woke up to a sky as black as ash. The sun was still golden; it continued to sparkle. And the moon was still silver like a knife, and it’s light was still pale and shallow.

The moon was full that night — or should I say day. The man smiled down, as if his dreams had fallen into place. I remember seeing Mars, the Jupiter, and Venus, all in a row, that day.

I sprinted to my sister, shook her violently, screaming, ‘Wake up! Wake up! The sun in gone!’

We fell down the stairs and out into tue yard to marvel in fear.

Our jaws had dropped and our eyes went wide. I looked over my shoulder and saw my neighbors baring the same face; their fear hidden.

We sat by the television, watching the news, awaiting anyone with an explanation.

And sure enough, within two minutes of turning on the tv, President William J. Dodger came on. He said a few empty words about remaining stability and control of panic before he turned the show over to the woman to his right.

She was a thin woman with curly, blond hair and glasses. She wore a lab coat white as wind. She spoke calmly in a language that was foreign to my sister and I. Then, in plain English, she said, ‘For months now, the magnetic fields of the Earth and Moon have been changing. This has resulted in the reversal of the sun and Moon.’ She was finally beginning to explain things in a way that did not make me picture a zombie apocalypse. But then she said ‘We are working around the clock to figure out why the roles of the sun and moon have been reversed as well. But I can assure you that further complications should not arise. And as soon as we have more information, we will alert the public.’ A blinding mob of camera lights and microphones surged the President and scientist as they were ushered away into a sleek, black limousine.

I held my sister’s hand tight. Her eyes were red; I could tell she was fighting the tears. But as soon as I hugged her, the whales came crashing down.

They were wrong. Wrong about everything. The world was never going to be the same.

. . .

School had been suspended for a week. It was Sunday night and we were to return that Monday. The school board thought a week was enough time to let kids get all their feelings out and adjust to the current situation.

I remember, all throughout the night, laying and staring at the ceiling, wondering how I would get to school in the dark. It was still pitch black every time the sun rose. My Pa had gone out early that week to by flashlights, but by the time he had made it to the store, they were all sold out. I had to rely on the little beam my phone produced.

I remember clumsily bumping into my seat on the bus. I sat in the silence of the dark. None of the kids dared to speak. We were too afraid that if we did, we might distract the bus driver and cause her to crash. The trees I usually admired on the way to school were seemingly gone.

When we arrived at school, everything looked the same — but nothing felt the same. The lights felt brighter and the air felt cooler. The bullies had given their prey a particularly generous pardon.

The whole day felt automatic. My body performed the ordinary motions of note taking, thumb twiddling, and weaving through the hallways. But my mind never performed these actions. I had been captured by the daze of night.