𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

28

*✧ ─────────✧° 。 ✦ 。 ° ✧───────── ✧*

I narrowed my eyes at her with anticipation, awaiting her response. She looked at me deep in thought, then started nodding slowly. "I'll do it," she finally said. I smirked at her, letting out a small exhale of breath, relieved.

She continued to stare into space, still comprehending everything. "How do we do it, Anastasia? How do we leave?" she asked, turning to face me with widened eyes. I pondered this for a moment. "We need information; we need to know more about this place, firstly," I responded. Quickly grabbing a pen and a notebook, I grinned. "Let's make a plan," I suggested. She grinned back, adding, "An escape plan."

***

I never questioned my family's business or their decisions. No complaints, no demands – I was an obedient daughter, always following instructions without a second thought.

But today was the day that I did what the fuck I want.

Once again, I found myself standing outside the renowned ship, almost eerily stationed in the exact spot as before. However, this time, there was an unusual absence of pirates, replaced only by the lingering stench of decay. As I looked around, a pool of dried blood surrounded me, a haunting reminder of the chaos from my previous encounter. Yet, rather than recoil from the gruesome scene, I couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating sense of power that surged through me, a testament to the formidable force I had become.

Wendy stood beside me, her complexion turning paler, almost on the verge of gagging. I crossed my arms, let out a deep sigh, and shifted my attention to her. Taking her hand, I guided her down the familiar, creaky stairs I had stumbled upon before."There has to be some useful information here."

With a swift kick, I burst open the door, creating a resounding 'BOOM' that reverberated through the deserted room. An air of frustration enveloped me, a desire to stir things up. Smirking, I pulled Wendy into the room, where her initial amazement gave way to growing concern. "Where are we?" she breathed out.

I turned to her. "Rummage through everything and anything. Let's find something useful," I instructed, beginning to break and smash things with a determined intensity.

***

"ANASTASIA!" A shriek reverberated through the ruins of the room. Leaping over shards of broken glass and remnants of slashed furniture, I swiftly approached her side to catch a glimpse of her discovery. There it lay—a blood-red leather notebook adorned with fine gold letters spelling out 'CAPTAIN COOK.'

"A notebook?" I remarked, a smile playing on my lips as she opened its inaugural page. The writing featured language so old-fashioned that some words eluded my recognition. Even the writing style was odd. Glancing at Wendy, I was confused, but she appeared collected, reading with apparent ease. "Wendy?" I inquired slowly.

"Yes?"

"What year were you born?"

"1850... why?" Her response carried a note of confusion.

My eyes widened, and my mouth hung agape. "1850?" I echoed, repeating the year in disbelief. "1850, 1850!" I paced the room, creating distance. "Hey, why are you freaking out? What's wrong!?" Wendy asked, visibly startled, promptly placing the book down. My hands instinctively went to my head and face as I covered them. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered under my breath. Looking up at her, I confessed slowly, "I was born in 2005."

Wendy's eyes widened, mirroring the astonishment that was settling within me. "2005?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. I nodded slowly, the weight of the revelation sinking in for both of us. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy as the implications of our disparate birth years hung in the air.

As the initial shock began to subside, Wendy and I exchanged a bewildered glance. "So, time travel?" she mused, a half-smile playing on her lips. I couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. "Either that or some bizarre alternate reality," I replied, my mind racing to grasp the enormity of our predicament.

"But, how did we end up here?" Wendy wondered aloud, her gaze fixated on the cryptic notebook. "And what's with this Captain Cook thing?"

Snapping back to the present, I approached the blood-red leather notebook that had thrown our lives into disarray. Opening it carefully, Wendy and I peered into its pages, filled with archaic handwriting detailing seafaring adventures, strange lands, and encounters with mythical creatures.

"There's something about a key," Wendy pointed out, tracing a line in the notebook. "And a portal."

"A portal?" I echoed, feeling a shiver run down my spine. The fantastical nature of the entries challenged our understanding of reality.

"We need to find more information," Wendy suggested, her determination evident. "And figure out how to get back home."

I agreed, realizing the gravity of our situation. We needed answers, and this notebook seemed to hold the key. "Let's gather as much intel as we can. Maybe there's a clue to unravel this mystery," I proposed, a newfound sense of purpose guiding our next steps.

*✧ ─────────✧° 。 ✦ 。 ° ✧───────── ✧*

Word count: 862