Footprints in the Moondust

Footprints where none should be pull two astronauts toward a discovery that reshapes everything they thought they knew…

Welcome to another corner of Sketches & Storytelling – The Story Sketchbook – a space where I share short bursts of fiction straight from my creative sketchbook. These stories are quick reads, but each one is a snapshot of a bigger world, a character in motion, or a moment that matters.

This one’s a little eerie, a little reflective, and like most things here, it started with a question I couldn’t shake.

Hope you enjoy the read.

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Day four. Artemis III mission. Lunar surface, near Shackleton Crater.

“Lowering one of us down into the crater might be the only way. We’ve seen no options for a drilling site along the rim.” said Amelia.

“Let’s stick to the plan,” Carter said, “Mission Control wouldn’t—” 

Amelia points to the edge of the crater “Wait… is that…?” Her eyes widened.

Carter followed her gaze, his jaw dropping open.

“Footprints!”

“We didn’t come this way yesterday. Did we?” Carter asked, half musing to himself.

“N-n-no, we didn’t…”

“Fraser, Lawson, this is Mission Control – What’s going on up there?”

“Mission Control – We seem to have found… footprints. Requesting permission to follow.”

Maybe asking for forgiveness would’ve been better. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk away from this mystery.

“Permission granted. Keep your camera feed live.”

*** 

The footprints lead the astronauts away from the Shackleton Crater, out into the Lunar plain.

After around 20 minutes, they stop.

But not at nothing.

They end at a metal hatch. A hatch with a recognisable symbol.

The hammer and sickle.

“Mission Control – Are you seeing this? How is this… possible?”

No reply.

A mechanical grinding sound groans like an unoiled iron giant stretching after a long, deep slumber.

The open hatch reveals a ladder leading down into the moon’s underworld.

“Mission Control – come in. Are you seeing this?”

Silence…

“Lawson, what do you think? Shall we go in?”

Carter, stunned and lost for words, nods.

Why not? We’ve come this far…

Amelia mounts the ladder and heads down into the darkness.

At the bottom, a pale red light illuminates a metal door. 

Amelia touches the faded red star painted on the door, and the light turns green as the ancient door hisses and slowly opens, revealing an airlock.

Once air is breathed back into the chamber, the second door opens, and Amelia and Carter find themselves inside a long corridor illuminated with a soft, artificial glow.

Putting more than a reasonable amount of faith in the Soviet-era oxygen system, Amelia removes her helmet. Seeing that she’s fine, Carter follows suit.

The air is stale, but breathable.

Moving along the corridor of this lifeless labyrinth, a half-open door beckons them inside.

Entering, they’re met with a surprise.

They enter a child’s classroom. A couple of the child-sized chairs and desks toppled over. 

The Cyrillic alphabet is displayed on a chalkboard alongside a child’s drawing – a crude spaceship with a chalky red star emblazoned on its side.

Carter is reminded of his ‘dark tourism’ tour of Chernobyl a few years back.

Did the Soviets have kids on the moon?

The air in the room hangs heavy and thick with a different kind of silence now.

A silence filled with ghosts of laughter, of lessons learned, of childhood dreams nurtured in the cold embrace of this rocky wilderness so far from the sparkling blue and white jewel we call home.

But it seems this was also a home. At least for some. 

Either that or some kind of sick experiment.

***

Amelia and Carter are snatched from their musing by a voice with a thick Russian accent behind them that rasps, “Welcome to Zvezda, comrades.”

Despite his form being obscured by the light behind him in the corridor, it’s clear he’s in a soldier’s uniform and not a space suit.

“We don’t use the southwest wing much these days.” 

“Wh-who are you? How long have you been here?” Amelia squeaked.

“That,” he said, taking another step into the abandoned classroom, “is a question best answered over some tea. Follow me.”