Upon leaving the orphanage, Lida received a perplexing inheritance from her late grandmother: an old, dilapidated house perched on the outskirts of an isolated forest. This house, forgotten and crumbling, seemed to have been abandoned not only by people but also by time itself.
Without anyone to expect her or bind her to her former existence, Lida embraced this solitude as an opportunity to start anew—quietly and on her own terms.
After spending several days cleansing the house—scrubbing grimy walls and removing signs of rodents—she ventured into the woods for clarity and to forage for mushrooms. She wandered further into the forest than she intended until a moss-covered clearing appeared. There, like a relic sprouted from the earth itself, rested an ancient airplane, rusted and entwined with tree roots. It seemed as if the forest had taken the airplane into its embrace.
Driven by curiosity, Lida climbed into the cockpit and was met with a chilling sight: a skeleton in pilot’s attire still strapped into the seat, forever frozen in a moment of life. Around its neck dangled a tarnished medallion, etched with her name.
“To Lida. When you grow up—find me.”
This discovery shifted Lida’s quiet new start into a plunge into mystery—entwined with missing aviators, undisclosed orders, and family secrets linked to a war she only knew from history books. Something far older and stranger stirred beneath the surface.
The stale, rusted air pressed in as she gripped the cockpit’s edge, haunted by the hollow eyes of the skeleton. Summoning her courage, she removed the inscription-bearing medallion which warmed in her trembling grasp.
A crumpled note lay on the dashboard: “Mission 13. Northern Sector. Classified.” The ominous number thirteen added weight to the enigma.
- After her descent, the forest atmosphere thickened—the sun waned, and an unsettling haze cloaked the air.
- Returning hastily, she left behind forgotten mushrooms, clutching the medallion tightly.
The next morning brought an intangible pull—not exactly fear, but a simmering expectation. As she prepared to leave, the attic creaked, revealing an old suitcase brimming with letters. One letter, penned with firm handwriting, was addressed: For my granddaughter Lida. If you return.
Its words warned that the plane didn’t belong to their time and possibly came looking for her. This raised many questions: why did the pilot know her name? How was this connected to her grandmother’s knowledge?
That night, haunted by the sensation of her name being whispered in sleep, Lida’s resolve overcame her fear. Wrapped warmly and with a flashlight in hand, she ventured back into the forest. The trees closely guarded the path, whispering overhead.
Reaching the clearing, she found the airplane had vanished completely; only soft grass and moss remained. Suddenly, a shadow flickered between the trunks, heightening her awareness that she might have been watched all along.
Returning home, the house seemed alive with old wood creaks and a pulsing sensation from the window glass. Reading her grandmother’s letter once more reminded her:
The plane will return if you remember. You are not merely an orphan; your blood recalls more than you realize.
Sitting with the medallion clenched, the air inside the room shimmered. The wall blurred, revealing the faint outline of the cockpit and the pilot, whose eyes gleamed with life as a haunting voice called her name.
“Lida… remember the coordinates,” the pilot whispered. As the vision faded, a note appeared on the floor, inscribed with coordinates and a time: Latitude 62.001. Longitude 47.744. 12:13 — don’t be late.
Shaken yet resolute, she returned to the clearing at exactly 12:13. The medallion heated in her hand as the forest transformed—the plane materialized anew, its cockpit door inviting her inside.
Inside, the pilot’s seat was empty but bore a fresh drawing of a young girl holding hands with a man in uniform, labeled, “Dad and me. Lida, 4 years old.” The realization struck deep: was this truly her father?
Suddenly, a pale, mouthless face emerged at the forest’s edge—human yet otherworldly. A voice echoed silently in her mind, “They are coming. Only you can complete the cycle.”
Retreating into the plane, Lida found an identical medallion waiting. The cockpit instruments ignited without power, coaxing her to press the glowing START button. Instinctively, she complied. The world dissolved, replaced by a frozen wartime airfield where her father awaited her gaze.
He offered her a choice—to remain in this impossible moment with him or to return and carry the mission forward. The past and future intertwined, looping endlessly in a cycle only she could break.
- Her father confessed the mission had trapped him between time’s fractures.
- Her grandmother’s warnings foretold the awakening every fifty years.
- The Keeper, a silent guardian, searched for those trying to undo the boundary between times.
Faced with a choice that could erase her father or perpetuate the endless loop, Lida chose to break the pattern, offering the medallion to the Keeper. As time shattered, her father’s last words thanked her.
She awoke in her old house, the familiar forest peaceful, with one difference—the shadow that once haunted the woods had finally vanished.
Key Insight: Lida’s journey illustrates that sometimes the past’s mysteries hold the key to a future rewritten by courage and choice.
Her story concludes with a powerful truth: our heritage shapes us, memories endure, and only by embracing our legacy can we transform cycles of fate into new beginnings.