Rocketship

     The dust made me cough. The air was so stale and heavy I could barely breathe. I pulled with every bit of strength my twelve-year-old frame could muster and lugged the thing to my driveway. This time they’d be sorry.
     The ancient house next door belonged to a nice old woman who’d died when I was five. No one wanted the house after she was gone. I guess they thought it was cursed. It just sat there and rotted away.
     My folks had told me a thousand times not to set foot in that house after she died, and a thousand times I had gone exploring in there. It was my safe place... my house-sized tree house. I used to run and play games in there for hours at a time.
     I found the plans a year ago. They were in a drawer in the kitchen. I stole parts from the nearby junkyard and started to put the thing together.
     The sun glimmered off the finished product a year later. The plans had been simple, but the parts had been hard to find. That’s why it took so long.
     I walked into my house for the last time. I threw some food and bottled water into my backpack. Then, I grabbed my comic books, two yo-yo’s, and my lucky Pez dispenser.
     I trudged downstairs and found Jack. He wagged his tail wildly as I gave him a hug. I wiped away a tear and stepped outside.
     I held the bubble up while I stood in the machine. I looked down the street at all the houses I knew and the trees I'd climbed.  I gazed upon the old house, which had been my second home. Then I looked at my own house, which had been no home at all. Jack spotted me through the window and I waved goodbye. I bent down and shut the hatch.
     Clouds began to cover the sun as I hit the switch.