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Friday Fiction–“From the High Seas”

A day late as I spent yesterday hustling the squid through airplanes and airports. This one came from the Indies Unlimited prompt “New World”, a picture of Boston Harbor. 

boston-harbor-sunset-copyright-ksbrooks-1997-300x228

The fun of the prompt came from the text portion:

It was a long journey. Truly, it took much longer than Sergio Cortinez could have ever guessed. His ship, the Nuestra Senora, left Spain on May 4, 1497.

On May 4, 1997, the unscathedNuestra Senora emerged from a squall just thirty miles away from Boston harbor…

I’m a sucker for anything time-travel related. I came at it from a slightly different direction (pun intended):

 

From the High Seas

Namid hadn’t worn the dress uniform in decades. The green velvet still crisp, the braided aiguillette glinted in the dim light of her captain’s quarters. Today, she would formally take the helm for the first time since they’d gone tragically off course. And it would be the last.

She wondered if anyone remembered her, perhaps a descendant who’d heard of her, of her exploits.

Adjusting the topcoat, she steeled herself to be grateful if she could at least locate someone with the family’s sweet pemmican recipe.

She strode onto the bridge, saluted her crew. They had borne the long voyage, pulled together when home seemed impossible.

“You’ve been my only family for over four decades,” she said. Their eyes gleamed. “So it is with great sincerity that I tell you: if I live to be two hundred”—she paused—”I never want to see any of your ugly mugs again.”

They guffawed, understood, then stilled again as the ship drew into the harbor. Firstmate Albano squinted at the viewport. “Is that the city?”

“Can’t be.”

“Those stunted things are buildings?”

“Where are we?”

Namid stared as a flying craft buzzed over the skyline like a mechanical dragonfly.

A grim silence.

She turned to Helmsman Remy. “Take us down. Water approach.” To avoid a panic from the inhabitants—who were certainly not ready to see a Sky Fleet vessel.

“It’s home,” she insisted.

Somewhere in that city was an ancestor who could make sweet pemmican, and Namid intended to find her.

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2 comments on “Friday Fiction–“From the High Seas”

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