When the adults leave for war with a far off planet, the children are left unprotected as the armies of the neighboring country march closer. Heroes must rise in the wake of destruction.
Jets of blue fire trailed from the hundreds of thousands of ships that sail against the backdrop of stars. The ships rose impossibly from the ocean into the sky. Huge shadows were cast upon the water, droplets spilling from the wooden sides of the ships. A loud voice from the leading ship cried, "Anchors up!" The ships lurched forward as though an invisible thread tying them to the planet had been cut. The sails billowed open and caught the wind. It was a sight to behold. They floated up and away like balloons.
We stood on the beach craning our necks, watching until we could watch no further. Still we stood, staring into the sky. "Can you see them?" "I think I might see them right - there!" "No, you're wrong. They're gone,"
Some stayed until night to watch the little trails of blue slowly fading into the distance towards some far off star. Had they been able to keep their eyes open long enough perhaps they would have seen the star grow larger then contract, disappearing into nothingness. If they had seen, maybe the days to follow would have been different. I believe, however, that it wouldn't have changed anything at all.
For weeks we hoped for their return. A watchtower was constructed from spare bricks and mortar. There was always a child watching the skies. But it was to no avail. They never came back for us, because they were gone. We didn't want to believe they were dead, so we continued to watch. There are some who still take up the guard in the tower, eyes to the sky, hearts yearning for what is lost.
On lonely nights I'll wander up there myself, watching the far off ships of red and yellow fire travel between distant stars. Has the rest of the universe forgotten us?
It was on such a lonely night that our story begins....