Dynasty

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"The weather's been odd lately," My Mum stated, washing the dishes. I nodded absentmindedly, sitting on the edge of my chair, staring blankly at the flickering images on TV. The reporters, with furrowed brows and uneasy expressions, continued to relay the bizarre events that had occurred over the last week or so. Starting Ten days ago, the weather had begun to act abnormally, from a sudden storm that had materialised out of nowhere, to snow deciding to make an unexpected appearance in the South of England.

I resisted the urge to sigh. It was June. 

The strangeness didn't stop there. Starting around the same time as the erratic weather, people began to vanish without a trace, regardless of whether it was in the dead of night or in the midst of a bustling day at work.

Gathering my thoughts, I glanced at my phone and quietly cursed, it was time to head to College. I rose from my seat, hopefully today would be normal. I moved mechanically, slipping on my shoes and said a brief goodbye to my mum.

As I walked out of the house a subtle unease gnawed at the edge of my mind. I looked up. The sun seemed different. Was it just my imagination, or was it growing brighter? I squinted, attempting to shield my eyes from the intensifying light. In the next moment, the world became a blinding white. I dropped my bag, instinctively covering my eyes.

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The entire world was engulfed by the blinding light. It spread across continents, illuminating cities, forests, and oceans alike, casting shadows that seemed to dance in its radiant glow. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the light vanished, leaving behind a silence that echoed through the streets and fields.

In the United Kingdom, as in other parts of the globe, people emerged from their homes, drawn by curiosity and the need to investigate. 

But as they searched, like clockwork, mirroring the last few days, a similar pattern had again emerged. Reports flooded in from every corner of the globe, detailing eerily similar scenes: abandoned cars littering the roads, their engines still idling; chairs and tables left vacant in parks and gardens and buildings, leaving naught but a wisp in the air.

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At a small house, nestled in a small street of a small town in England, a woman stepped out into her front garden, her curiosity piqued by the light. Like countless others, she couldn't resist the urge to investigate.

As she crossed the threshold, her eyes caught sight of something out of place: a lone bag sitting abandoned by her front door. With trembling hands, she approached the bag, her heart pounding. She reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the material, before finally gathering the courage to grasp it firmly.

A piercing cry of despair reverberated through the neighbourhood, that sunlit morning in June.

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As quickly as it appeared the light faded. 

I blinked slowly, my eyes readjusting to the ambient light. Feeling disoriented, I decided to lower myself onto the ground feeling the soft sand beneath me. Sand? I paused, my senses slowly returning to normalcy. I stared intently at the ground below, taking in the grainy texture beneath my fingertips. "That's a lot of sand," I mused, the words escaping my lips almost involuntarily. "It's like I'm on a..." I began to say, but my voice faltered as my gaze lifted.

A gasp caught in my throat. "A beach," I finally whispered. I found myself dumbfounded, staring at the scene before me. It was as though I had stepped into a living painting, the sand glistening in the soft morning sunlight, casting a warm glow across the entire scene and stretching endless kilometres to form a pristine white beach. The waves, seemingly choreographed, gently caressed the shore, creating a soothing song that resonated in the air, as it carried the invigorating scent of salt, with the distant sound of seagulls added a final touch to this orchestra.

"This is kind of nice" I thought to myself.

...Hold on.

I snapped back to reality, any previous thoughts fading from my immediate focus. "What?" I said, my voice breaking through the rhythmic sound of the gentle waves. Confusion etched across my face. Looking left and right in rapid motion, as if trying to snap my neck, I tried to make sense of the abrupt shift in my surroundings. "What?!" I exclaimed louder, the urgency in my tone mirroring the bewilderment in my eyes.

My pulse quickened as a couple of thoughts crossed my mind; What just happened? Where am I? Why am I here? I paused, uncertain and slightly disturbed. I stood up, scanning my surroundings for any clues or familiar landmarks. The soft sand clung to and flung from my clothes. And, after a slight stumble or two, I took a deep breath, attempting to anchor myself. My mind focused on the current situation; I was in a strange land, I didn't have food or water, I didn't have a shelter.

I was Alone.

And with that final thought, I took off in order to scout my surrounding area. I failed to notice a small silhouette in the distance.

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After walking along the beach for about 30 minutes, my gaze fell upon a shipwreck. The aged vessel, a stoic figure weathered by time, stood as a proud sentinel along the otherwise white shoreline. Its presence silently invited me, whispering the promise of hidden treasures and mysteries.

And despite a small part of me saying this may not be the best idea, I cautiously approached the old vessel, the salty breeze carrying the echoes of its history. The creaking of wood and the distant symphony of waves against the shore created a haunting melody. With a deep breath, I stepped inside, the warped planks beneath my feet groaning softly with each movement.

The dim light filtering through gaps in the ship's skeletal frame revealed a hidden treasure trove of artefacts. My eyes widened as I spotted an old but intact spear leaning against a weathered wall. A sense of primal security washed over me, I picked it up, the cold touch of metal grounding me in this strange reality I now found myself in.

Next to the spear, I discovered a leather bag, worn but still functional. I opened it cautiously, revealing a collection of items that hinted at a survivalist's stash – a flint, a small knife, and a few meagre, likely expired, canned rations. Clutching the leather bag, I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, I wasn’t alone.

It was then my gaze fell upon a stack of books scattered across the uneven floor. Intrigued, I picked one up, and to my surprise, the text was written in a language I couldn't immediately comprehend. However, after a moment of examination, it struck me – it was Latin.  I flipped through the pages, attempting to decipher the meaning behind the cryptic symbols.

It was then the sound of heavy beating seized my attention, their rhythmic pulse intertwining with the gentle lull of the ocean waves.

It was calm. It was peaceful... Until it wasn't.

The sound of screeches shattered any semblance of peace. My head snapped up, a mix of fear and curiosity gripping me. I rushed towards a nearby opening in the ship's decaying husk, my eyes widening in disbelief as I looked on at the creature soaring through the sky.

It was a gryphon. 

For more than a moment I was stunned. I watched as it flew over the sea,  its powerful wings sliced through the air, rippling with power as it navigated the sky with effortless grace. It cast a surreal shadow on the sunlit sand below. And as I continued to watch as the creature flew further away, I realised something.

I wasn’t on Earth. 

And, as I opened my mouth to voice my shock, I heard a small gasp behind me. 

I quickly turned around.

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