Amilia Earhart and her partner, Fred Noonan disapeared 73 years ago. This story is a fictional attempt at explaining the rest of their lives.
Amelia Earhart stared straight ahead, sitting in the front seat of her new Lockheed Electra 10E. The clouds below her rushed by, unnatrually fluffy and soft- looking when compared to the vicious sea that lay just beneath her little plane. It tossed and turned in jagged swells that she knew would swallow up such a heavy plane in no time at all, leaving the occpants to die. Of course, the plane was nothing when compared to the elements it faced: a tireless sun beating down from above, wind streaming around the airship's fragile wings in a confident roar, and the brutal depths of a salty hell licking their sandy chops some thousands of feet below. She glanced back at her only crew member of the flight and said "So, Fred, only 7000 miles to go, right?". "Yep, only. You are, without a doubt, the craziest damm person I have ever met. I don't even know why I came on this trip in the first place.." "Come, now, you know exactly why we're doing this- because women need a role model in this feild, and because we can. What better reasons are there? Oh, by the way, thank you." "For what?" "You called me crazy. Thank you." "Not only are you crazy, but I think that you are begining to go insane. Here, have some water and pay attention to the world outside- being a sea captian does NOT mean that I can pilot a sinking ship in the middle of the Pacific!" Fred hands her some water, and Amelia tries to shake off the chills she's had since the airfeild back at Lae, to get back some of that arial thrill that had always come so natrually to her. "My instruments say that we are doing fine. Could you radio the Itasca with our coordinates, and try not to have a panic attack for me?"