Fantasy and Myth

My Friend the Airship

Night advanced across the city, bringing with it a blanket of darkness as if every building were being shadowed under the feathered wings of a giant raven.

I was standing outside my house on the back terrace when I saw movement above. At first, I thought it was nothing more than a plane or some other type of aircraft as I couldn't see it very well in the night sky. It wasn't until it passed in front of the moon, and its form became clearly defined, I realized it was something impossible.

Resembling a sailing ship with masts and billowing sails straining against the push of the wind, the wooden vessel should've been on the water instead of in the air, but I couldn't deny what was right in front of me. As I watched, the airship made a slow and graceful turn while simultaneously losing altitude. It took a moment for my stunned brain to comprehend it was coming toward me.

Unable to move away, I watched the vessel grow closer and more clearly defined. Gold ornamentation marked the prow of the ship in swirling lines of gleaming metal. A cannon was mounted to the rail on the forward part of the main deck. I heard the creak of the ropes holding the sails in place and keeping them from blowing away. The wooden boards of the hull gave off low groaning sounds as the ship moved and pushed its way forward against conflicting air currents.

Even in my bewildered state, I found it odd there were no sounds of people. I heard no shouted commands from the Captain or acknowledged orders from the crew. No music, laughter, or the thud of boots against the deck. The vessel was as silent as a ghost ship, and the hairs on my neck acknowledged this by jumping to attention.

The airship stopped in front of me, hovering a hand width above the stone of my back terrace. A clanking sound drew my attention as a ladder was released and lowered down the side. I watched intensely to see who was going to climb down, but no one did.

I don't know how long I waited before theorizing the ladder hadn't been lowered for someone to disembark but for me to come aboard. An invitation from an utterly silent ship hovering in my back yard wasn't a calming thought, but I couldn't deny my curiosity. Despite being apprehensive, I approached the ladder and took hold of it, testing it with a few pulls to be certain it was secure and would support my weight.

Satisfied it would hold, I took a steadying breath, wiped the nervous sweat from my palms, and began to climb. The ship was steady and didn't move to any degree when my weight was added to the ladder; it might as well have been a mountain. The metal rungs, held by ropes to either side, supported me perfectly, and I was able to make my way to the main deck in short order. No one was there to meet me.

The spacious main deck was totally empty. I didn't even see anyone near the winch attached to the top of the ladder, so I had no idea who had lowered the ladder for me to climb aboard.

"Hello?" I tentatively called out. No answer. I called louder, "HELLO?"

Silence.

"I don't mean to intrude," I offered to the empty air as I still didn't know if anyone was around.

Any further explanation of my presence was cut short as a loud creaking sound reached my ears. My head whipped around to find the source, and I saw the door leading to the Captain's cabin slowly opening. No lights shown beyond, and the open door was a void of utter darkness. I swallowed hard and took one step toward the door, then another.

I jumped when the winch engaged, drawing up the ladder rapidly with loud clanking made deafening by the stillness of the night. I still did not see anyone around the winch who might've activated it. The thought of being on a ghost ship made me shiver, and a second thought about an invisible crew did not put me to ease in the slightest.

Continuing to the Captain's cabin, I noticed the yawning opening was getting brighter, and it made me halt in place as I thought someone with a light was approaching. I realized it was something else entirely when the lamps flanking the doorway flickered to life and began to burn brightly with orange flames within their glass housings with no outward sign of assistance.

Pushing myself forward, I entered the cabin and found it well-lit and empty. No one was around to have lit the lamps or open the door. A scrapping sound drew my attention toward a shelf composed with square pockets filled with metal capped scrolls. One of the scrolls was not inserted all the way and protruded out further than the others.

Removing the scroll, I unrolled it on the nearby table to discover a map of a region I'd never seen before. Forests and rivers were illustrated with such detail, I could've sworn I saw the trees move in the wind and the currents briefly mar the smooth surface of the waters. The scraping sound came again behind me, and I whirled around to find a drawer previously closed now slightly ajar.

I found a small model of the airship in the velvet padded interior of the drawer. Taking the model out I placed it upon the map near a waterfall.

A rushing sound accompanied a flash of light through the windows. I raced outside to find my house was gone. The entire city was gone. The airship floated above a forest thick with dark evergreens. Hearing an unmistakable noise, I rushed to the forward prow and beheld a waterfall identical to the one upon the map where I'd placed the model airship. It was impossible, but also undeniably real.