Every winter solstice, Eve awaited a message from Apollo. Her husband had embarked on a dangerous mission to chart the fringes of the universe. Catastrophe struck the vessel and the last letter was strewn across the wide cosmos. Erecting a beacon that could transmit signals faster than light, she hoped to warp the past from the present. Every attempt however merely distorted the circumstances; the ship collided into an asteroid, lost compression from a puncture, ran out of oxygen… She mourned each failure knowing that each misstep resealed her beloved’s fate. Such was the cost paid for her undying love.
“I see a light!!” exclaimed the first mate atop the lookout post. The wrong turn at Bermuda had proved costly for the ship had been set in fog for the last several months; neither land nor sea could be seen during the day and the stars turned faulty during the night. Voyager’s crew, now roused alive by the news, turned to face the ship’s bow in near disbelief. A faint glow emerged near the horizon against the backdrop of night. One light became two, two became four, four doubled to eight, and so on until the whole expanse lit up in white. A sudden wind then filled the sails, jolting the vessel forwards that nearly capsized the crew.
“Lower the mast and drop the anchor!” howled the captain who first regained his senses just seconds too late. The Voyager began to accelerate at an unnatural rate, first cutting through the waves before skipping over the waver’s surface and eventually flying. The distant lights turned night into day only to retreat and welcome back the night at rates like a flickering candle against the wind before dying. And indeed, the candle did go out for when the crew finally came to, they met with a swath of lights without fire, suns without warmth against a blackened sea. Foreign voices emanating from vessels without sails reverberated all around them at intervals. They repeated two phases: “This is the coast guard. Identify yourselves”.
Gloria found an old half-finished journal in the attic. It held various accounts of importance from names, dates, and addresses to memoirs, confessions, and wills. The last entry made a mysterious request that insisted the current reader should fill in the remaining pages so that the others may rest. Feeling a bit spooked, Gloria returned her discovery to the attic and forgot about it for several days. One night, she dreamed of a young woman composing a poem to her beloved. The next night, it was a retired man penning detailed instructions on fly-fishing. On the third night, it was a medieval scribe who jotted down a long passage of scripture. Moreover, all the dreams approached a vividness that could be reproduced in her waking-state. Realizing this, she returned to the attic to complete the request only to learn that the journal had vanished.