Wattpad submission for Pot 4, Round of 2 in the subgenre of Sky Punk.
Pictures used from the prompts:
The three quite attractive punks: Howell of Penstead (hatred), Irma of Penstead (love), Marianna of Penstead (the healer).
#1 - Whales in the sky (Purpura Ocean)
#2 - The Sky Brigantine's (36-ers, to be exact)
#6 - Floating City (the medical facility)
#8 - The ship and elemental (the nightmare)
The Sky is an Ocean
The journey to epsilon Abherghast had taken only weeks, much faster than the several months of travel when his mother had immigrated there when he was a child. Still, it had been a hard journey. Not hard for lack of comfort, but hard for the truths he would soon face -- again. His journey home from here would be his last interstellar journey as he retired to the twilight of his life on gamma Sol.
Once the military interstellar transport docked at the high meadow shipyard, The Man gathered his one satchel and headed to shore. As he reached the end of the gangplank, he looked back out over the deep valley. He could see two civilian Brigantine recreations under full dodger, heading for the shipyard as well. They were truly beautiful works of historical art. The 36-ers balanced expertly on grav-repulsers (much more efficient that anti-gravity nodes), as the trim wings moved gently in the air to keep the ship on an even keel. Watching them soar elegantly through the clouds, with so many birds reeling and rolling amongst them, was magical. It lifted the heaviness in his heart, but only for a few minutes.
He picked up his satchel again and turned towards the train station. The journey to the Purpura Ocean would be many hours, most of which he planned to sleep if sleep would come. He was filled with both eagerness and dread for what lay ahead of him. But this was a journey of guilt, and a journey of love. The two emotions had torn at him incessantly during his journey, much as they had his entire life, and there was still no sign of victory for either side.
At the train station, The Man quickly found his carriage on the ground transport. The Man settled in his seat to the sound of the voices and the jostling of the other passengers settling around him. Finally, he heard the not-too-distant hiss and sputter of the coal engine, as the engineer built up the steam pressure needed to drive the anti-gravity generators. Smelling the foul carbon effluence as the engine made the cabin perceptibly vibrate, The Man looked out the window and saw the ground moving away from him. With longing and dread competing for primacy, he closed his eyes and let his fingers trace the hand stitched gold band and loop of the Commodore's insignia on the sleeve of his jacket. It was a focused practice that he had done for many years to help quell the anxiety attacks that accompanied prolonged reminiscing of her.
The respite was short lived. He opened his eyes as a child bumped into his leg. Smiling pleasantly at the tot, he looked up at the child's mother and nodded his head politely to indicate that he was not bothered. She smiled in return as she gathered her son up in her arms, and planted him firmly on her lap.
As The Man was about to close his eyes again, he noticed the door at the end of the cabin was slightly open. A beautiful woman was standing, half-hidden by the door jamb. She looked familiar. The short curly white hair, the brown eyes, the serene smile, she seemed ...
She was looking right at him.
When their eyes met, she didn't turn and run, she didn't try to hide. She simply faded.
