I had waited years for this day: a childhood spent hoping, six years of searching, an agonizing nine months of planning. I felt as if I were being stretched upon the rack by some Elizabethan torturer. Each day had seemed to last forever.
Here it was at last. The day we began.
I put a hand on the side of the plane. It seemed so surreal to think that at last we would be underway: first to Greece and then…
Then there. Following the faded map in the old book.
“You ready, Dr. Kavanaugh?”
I looked up to see my pilot – Arthur Caine – sitting in the cockpit, flight jacket on, goggles sitting over his thick mustache. That was when it really hit me. This was actually happening.
So rather than saying something fittingly noble and heroic to mark the occasion, I simply muttered a meek “Uh-huh,” nodded, and climbed into the plane as if in a daydream.
The sound of the propeller filled my ears as we started down the runway, speeding past green fields. In a moment we were soaring over houses that seemed like scale models.
We were on our way.
And Atlantis was waiting.
Word Count: 190
This is my entry for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner #18. Thanks to rogershipp for holding the challenge. Picture is from pixabay.com.
While I tried to make it standalone enough to not be a serial story – and I think I succeeded – this is a sequel (of sorts) to “The Adventurer’s Book.” I’ve finally done one of those many follow-ups I said I might do.