Blood Moon

So there I was, lying down on the dusty ground and gazing up at the midnight sky. My head was resting on a tiny concrete wall, which was much more comfortable than I thought it would be. The dry soil of the dorm's sparsely arranged shrub garden was the only spot where I could get a good view of the lunar eclipse and my backside was caked with dirt. I would think about how filthy I was after I got off the ground, but for now I was mesmerized by the reddening moon. This was the first lunar eclipse that I had ever seen, and I was lucky to watch the last sliver of white disappear as the moon turned into a magnificent rusty red colored sphere.
Needless to say, the experience was almost surreal in its beauty. Not only was the moon prominently casting its dull redness across the sky, but Earth's red neighbor was also at its closest proximity in seven years. Mars was so close that I was able to see the light being reflected off a planet that was still millions of miles away. The simple wonder of being outside in the stillness of midnight and watching this once-in-a-lifetime combination of astronomical events filled me with awe. The very fact that I could just observe the inner workings of the solar system was empowering, even if it involved heavenly bodies that absolutely dwarfed me.
This paradoxical observation of something that was both impossibly distant but astonishingly personal made me even better realize the beauty of stories.  Even though works of fiction can involve the most fantastical concepts or scenarios, through good writing they can be just as natural and fascinating as the passing of the moon through Earth's shadow. The reader may not understand exactly why everything is arranged how it is, but they will still stick around to watch the story unfolds.