Excerpt
Wingless
The Electra, my old friend, my grand girl--gone.
Snatched.
Swept out from the reef into the depths. I watched with
tears from the shade of a palm tree. Farewell, lovely one. I was
your witness and I cried as you were torn away. Pulled under.
Ripped from me by an angry sea.
You sleep now far below.
I helped Fred sit up so he could watch, too. He cried and
patted my shoulder. He whispered sweet things, despite his
pain, to try and soothe me.
Sweet, broken bird, take your leave and rest forever.
Fly beneath the waves as well as you did in the sky.
But I know better than to believe that.
I wish it.
Not the same thing.
You served me well, broken bird. I served you badly. I
could not save you. But no blame to you. Much to me. I loved
you. Truly. I could never blame you.
The failure was many things: Liquid--fuel.
Navigation--unfortunate.
Communications--failed.
Bad luck.
Luck is a factor.
Make your own luck.
I tried.
I always tried.
Easier said than done.
Fuel runs out.
So does luck.