The Holston
20
An English major in her senior year at King, Stacey Horton can usually be found reading a mystery book. Stacey’s short stories have been featured both on The Write Practice and on Reedsy. When not throwing characters from hot air balloons, she is probably drinking coffee and planning her first mystery novel. Stacey lives in Abingdon, VA, with her family and three dogs. SKYE VOYAGE Scotland, April 1893 The hot air balloon approached the Isle of Skye, carrying its pilot and two passengers. Sophie pushed back a bright red curl, adjusting her goggle strap. She increased the heat inside the balloon, the weight of her Tesla guns against her legs reassuring as they floated above Talisker Bay. The creatures would come into view any minute. She knew she brought her passengers to see them, but it never made it any less nerve-wracking to know that a paying customer could be decapitated any time. She glanced to her passengers. Doctors from England, she thought. Not the medicine kind. More librarians than doctors. She never liked having the English aboard, but they paid full price. Wesley Fairbank—a young fellow with blonde hair askew—stood with hunched, expensive tweed-covered shoulders as he copiously explained the intricacies of his invention. She only caught glimpses of the small-geared device, a round lens catching an elusive sunray. “You see, it’s quite simple, Julian.” Wesley adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose. “I can’t believe you’ve made a camera this small,” Julian replied. Julian Garcia proved to be patient with his friend, his Spanish features belying his English accent. Wesley hid a smile. “Oh, hold on.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling a grainy, grey paper out. “Instant photo,” he shouted as the wind picked up, holding onto his hat. Julian laughed. “Doesn’t look like any photograph I’ve seen!” Sophie lost interest. Her passengers were often scientists or pseudo-adventurers, anticipating thrills. Seeing it as the family business she would take over one day, the tours lost their glitter soon after her thirteenth birthday. She pulled a face when the conversation behind her took a turn. “No! This isn’t about the money, Julian!” Wesley yelled, his face and neck growing red, while Julian’s appearance grew stony. “And it never was.” “Think about the funding that we could have for our laboratories. This would set me up for years if we go to the investors,” Julian argued. “Investors? I told you that I am not—” “Not all of us were born with a title!” Julian stepped closer to Wesley. “With that design in—” he reached into Wesley’s pocket, retrieving a small, leather book filled with wrinkled scraps of paper sticking out “—this book! The camera is only the beginning!” “You sound just like my father. I’m not about to limit access to something that could potentially change society as we know it!” Wesley glanced at Sophie’s back. “Look, can’t we talk about this later?” He offered a meager smile. “I won’t have you ruin my birthday trip. All right?” In the horizon, a large silver airship came into view. Before Sophie could identify it, a high-pitched screech sounded, unrecognized to the novice passengers against the wind and ocean. Sophie whirled around, her eyes searching. Her fingers dove into her vest, clamoring for her retractable telescope. Looking through the lens, she saw wings and a pointed head swim into view. The direction of the wind changed. Sophie stumbled back a step. Planting her feet, she looked again. A second silhouette appeared. Another sharp cry pierced the air louder and closer. She lifted the scope, a thought flashing through her mind… Maggie…
