Our Sense of Adventure

Part 1

Hello! As I mentioned in the description this is only ONE PART of what I plan to be quite a bit of a longer story! To be exact what I have here is 1305 of 1492 words SO FAR. What I've written beyond this isn't even close to the real end of the story, but I was eager to publish it. Anyone who is actually reading this, ENJOY FAM!

The metal ship flew through the air at a speed that only light could follow. And the people aboard that ship, well they were having the time of their lives. This story is about their adventures. This story is about their journey, on which they will strive to never be forgotten.

The sound of footsteps breaks me out of my thoughts and I blink to clear my eyes. As I turn towards the stairs the figure of my second in command comes into view.

"Oi, Captain, how's she flying?" My second in command grins like a madman at the prospect of a good flying day aboard The Forgotten, our ship.

"How many times now have I told you not to call me Captain, Lucas? That's how the low lifes address me, surely not my second in command." I grin back at him anyways, also excited at the idea of a clear flying day.

"I stopped counting at twenty-seven."

"Ha-ha"

As Lucas blabs on, I listen to my men's footsteps as they work the ship, and I'm reminded of the woman we found merely a week ago, when we last anchored. She warned us of enemies also flying the skies, although going a different route. They went by the name of Akuma. Their reputation was concerning, as threatening as the Hessians to the Patriots, even. This ship's men were well trained of course, but enough to go against the likes of that? Surely not.

Upon hearing the news, we changed course immediately, heading for the closest land in which we could safely keep distance between those who were a threat. The land we are headed to is the former home of the kingdom of Britain, which was not reclaimed after Britain's gruesome downfall thousands of years ago, and remains unexplored. Walking into the unknown was a risk, but it was better than being shot down, never to be found. Forgotten.

Forgotten. That one word. Forget- to fail to remember. A simple word, somehow explains everyone in our crew. That's what we all have in common here. We've all been forgotten. Families, friends, anyone, has forgotten us. But here we won't be forgotten. We remember each other on this ship. Although being forgotten crushes us, it also drives us. To live, here on this ship. Go on adventures, is what I tell them. On The Forgotten, ironically enough, we do not forget.

When I come back to reality, I realise Lucas had left the wheel long ago, probably realising I was in my head at the moment. We fit together quite well, him and I. He was very talkative, and I was very quiet at times, despite seeming loud among my men. He was the first to join my crew, and without a doubt the closest to me. Our personalities matched even when we first met, maybe that was why I invited him to join me on my adventures. I appreciated him more than he thought, I suppose. Maybe he felt the same for me.

The journey to our destination seemed to fly by. A blur of waking up in the mornings, assigning jobs, and traveling. We arrived on a warm and bright morning about two weeks later. We anchored at a rotted dock that was somehow still held upright by its supports.

The former land of Britain looked exactly as it had been described to all of us many times. We had landed specifically near central London. Almost every building had been burned to the ground, and those that had not were barely still standing after all these years. Vegetation grew on every wall, flew up from cracks in the once neatly paved walkway, wrapping around debris. Despite the horrid things that had happened here, the millions of deaths, it seemed...peaceful. As if nothing here could go wrong. Or could it?

We scavenged for any extra food that we could find. Any food left in homes would be long past being edible, if it hadn't been taken by fleeing citizens all those years ago, but berries growing on vegetation could be a useful addition to our food supply. After cleaning out the area we had about a bucket of edible berries.

By the time we had all met up again it was almost nightfall. A couple of my crew had found a house suitable for us to live in, though we hoped to find one better suited for a long period of time soon. The building they had found was fairly large and surprisingly mostly still standing. There were a few gaps in the roof and some bricks had fallen to the ground. The foundation had obviously gotten weaker; looking closely, I could see the building wasn't standing completely straight. The windows were broken, and the glass was still on the ground. It would work, if only for now.

The only light was the soft glow of the sunset entering the house through the broken windows. Luckily for us, it was a warm night and we were able to sleep soundly. Most of us anyway.

I don't have dreams often, but when I do they're undecipherable. Images thrown together in flashes. Tonight would be no different. Flashes of blurred faces, the burned buildings of what was once Britain. A ship flying in the shadows, with the silhouettes of its crew standing aboard.They all seemed insignificant, until one image appeared, and this one wasn't flashing away almost instantly like the others. It was Lucas, but you could barely tell by looking at him. He was bloodied and beaten so much that I wouldn't have recognized him if I weren't as close to him as I am. Suddenly I was ripped from the image and a shadowed face hovered over me. Hands reached out and...shook me?

At first all I saw was darkness. When my eyes adjusted I came to realize I was in the building we had camped out for tonight in. Lucas, once in the sleeping bag beside mine, was now kneeled beside me, a hand on my shoulder. Once he sees I'm awake, he quietly returns to his sleeping bag, back facing me, going back to sleep. Whenever either of us have nightmares, we quietly wake the other up and return to bed. It was an unspoken routine that had formed over the years.

Dreams aren't real. Dreams aren't real. Dreams aren't real.

Dreams aren't real. They never have been and never will be. So what was shaking me so bad about this one? Because I'd never seen Lucas in a state like that, even in a dream? Even if I had before, it wasn't something that would shake me like this. It was a reality I had accepted when we first took to the skies. Maybe it was those silhouetted people that seemed to appear in every image. The aura of danger they gave off resonated with me even in reality. Is that what was unnerving me? Imaginary people? As I sit thinking about it more and more, I realise how ridiculous it is. Worrying over something that wasn't real? I push it away from my thoughts for now and do my best to go to sleep.

It doesn't work out so well.

I'm the first one awake the next morning. I somehow wake up before Lucas, who's still sleeping peacefully beside me. A feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I look around at all of my crew sleeping in different parts of the large building, similar to what I felt last night. The sun streams through what were windows many years ago, making everything look peaceful. But the pit in my stomach seems to blossom and become a peach tree, its roots curling around my stomach, settling there to thrive for, in its time, many years to come.