I felt my chest tighten as I witnessed what had happened before me; A mound of twisted metal, fire and billowing smoke poured from the carnage and I rushed forwards, crying out my father.

"Pa! Pa! Oh my god, Pa!" I yelled out as I pulled the cockpit door aside and pulled the pilot out desperately; He was badly hurt with blood seeping from wounds all across, bruises and battered limbs laid twisted and warped. It was a horrendous sight and I could feel my stomach gagging.

Hearing the commotion, my Ma rushed out to gasp in shock and got on the phone for an ambulance. A few minutes later it came and I could only gaze in abject horror as my Pa was hoisted onto a cart and loaded into the back of the van; Before being rushed away to hospital. Tears swelled in my eyes as I began to sob, my mother rubbing my shoulder in a bid to calm me down.

"It's ok sweetie… the doctors will take great care of him…" She assured.

I sure hope so because my future as a pilot lies with Pa. He was my only instructor and to lose him would be a fatal blow to my career. I lurched back into the house, unable to stomach the wreckage behind and locked myself in my room.

Bounds of anxious thoughts began to flood my mind and I struggled to come to terms with what happened. I thought I could carry on my career but to see it all coming down in one big bang had abruptly put it on halt.

I wanted to visit Pa in the hospital and so we rung my Aunty Peggy to pick us up. She was a retired crop-duster, much like the other relatives, but a worn-out leg rendered her unfit to fly so she'd come in her car to take us to the infirmary, where my Pa was being taken care off.

Despite his worrying state, he smiled as I entered the ward, a warped hand stretched out to hold my own. His spirit seems unbroken despite the ordeal.

"I…I'm sorry we couldn't finish what we started, kid…" He gasped through his punctured lungs. I sat in silence as we gazed at each other for a few minutes. "List…Listen… don't be disheartened by me… do your ol' Pa a favour, and build your own plane… much like the ones before you. Every cropduster is handmade by their pilots. Little do we need for hands me downs… as every one of was destined to be mounted by their maker.

I don't know how long I'll be stricken to this bed but… be sure to have her ready when I do return… I wanna see you heed my word…"

The words hit quite close to my heart when I felt a key being placed in my hand.

"I left you something in my drawer… it's the family heirloom… and every father grants it to their apprentice to deem their worthy to pass on the torch. Keep it close… for it will remind yourself of your role in this world."

With the trinket in my hand, Peggy elected on taking us home and was swiftly whisked back to the farm. A part of me believes that a forthcoming storm was about to descend over our farm… even when our car rushed through a terrible rainstorm; The many droplets lashing against the glass windscreen, followed by the squeak of the wipers. Only when my aunt spoke up, having sensed my depressed mood.

"Don't worry about him, kid… he's in very good hands and be back on his feet in no time. Bout time, ye were lucky to be trained enough to fly that ol' girl but I'd heed his word and get yer own mount ready for his return."

I looked out the window with my chin resting wistfully on my open palm and watched the road go by. The light had faded to make way for a murky grey while the yellow glare of the streetlamps flashed by. It really does sound like things were going on a downhill. But I still got a job to do.

When Peggy dropped us off, it was just me and Ma at the farm, while ample workers gathered the yield to sell on to the markets.

"You go and do what your Pa' told you. I'll be in the house if you need me."

I nodded in compliance and first headed to the family hangar, where we kept thousands of avionics and plane components. More than enough that render us not needing to order any new ones. On the worn out workbench, sat a book and upon opening it unveiled pages of charted of family history; Planes of all shapes and sizes were etched on in blueprint fashion. With all kinds of measurements, anagrams and other scribbled on notes that could make any other person spin their head in confusion.

Then I remembered. I used to show a passion for history and the many war stories of my gran-pappy. The paper and wooden planes that once dominated the skyline above the warzone. It was all truly astonishing. As our planes became more sophisticated, the wonders of having the wind in your face became past. But I wanted to relive the joys of an open cockpit. Gathering all the knowledge in my noggin'… I got to work.

No longer will my own pride and joy become another example of modern crop-dusters but a throwback to the good ol days. Envisioning the biplanes of past, I got to work sanding and cutting down the wood and aluminium, that'd piece her together.

First was the fuselage; A body of well bolted wood and lightweight alloys to keep her rigid for lengthy flights, two sets of large canvas wings were affixed to the fore, one by the cockpit and the other stretched above, giving it that Biplane appearance with another wing and rudder to adorn the aft. Two burly wheels would hold her great engine above the ground where a hand-carved wooden propellor would be fitted right up in front. An open cockpit would finally complete the process, complete with plush, cushioned seat and nylon shoulder straps to tie me down and a smallish windscreen would obscure much of the fumes while airborne; I really need them eyes y'know.

With my plane finally assembled, a got to giving her a good lick o' blue paint, to concede with the hue of blue sky. For her colour, I christened her Blue Betty and I stepped back to admire my work. My Pa will be so proud when he sees what I've done… or so I thought.

As the storm worsened, I sat on the table as Ma sat on the other side; Sheepishly twirling her thumbs… something clearly didn't bode well with her but it seems she started crying.

"T…That was your aunt… on the phone…

R…Robbie… I can't seem to say it any other way but… your Pa… he's in Yoba's Farmhouse in the sky…"

I felt my heart took a sharp stab right through it and emotions began to pour in. That small part of me was right… he definitely did not make it. My cheeks puffed up as my eyes swelled in tears.

"Pa… Pa… he won't…?" I spoke through my sobbing.

"He's not coming home, son… I'm sorry dear..." Then we just broke. Crying as the lashings of thunder beckoned outside.

From that day forward, as my family went to the funeral, I stayed at my Aunt Peggy's in the meantime. She was quite close to my Pa and did her best to stem my grief. After my Pa was finally buried, much of the family went away for pastures anew; Some became farmworkers or found new jobs elsewhere while I moved in with my aunt as I couldn't be left in the care of my now-alcoholic ma; She hardly ever stayed at the farm anymore…and she'd rather drink her life away. I have no idea what happened to her after.

Knowing well that I was already been in lessons with my Pa, Peggy went up to me as I looked out the window, staring at the city's tall grey skyscrapers.

"Here, Robbie… I got an idea for ya… the local airport has just started hosting a flight school… maybe it's a great chance for ya to finish what yer Pa started. It'd make him proud for sure." She suggested.

While I preferred being home-schooled by my Pa but the fact that I could finish it at this school would be too much to pass up, even if I was rather sceptical about it being in an urban area, and not on the grounds of my ancestors. Peggy would take me there where I learned the rest of my exam… the instructor was quite understanding and warming… as if he were Pa himself and I had a great experience. Even then I showed that man what my old man passed down to me and he was coloured impressed. For that, and acing the written exams, I passed my tests with flying colours, finally officiating and receiving a pilot's license through the mail; It was something worth holding onto.

Now that my career as a pilot was complete, I could go back to the farm and get started but I was told that I couldn't return. To cover the debts accumulated in the aftermath of the crash, the land was sold off… to those suits in Joja… I was not impressed but what else can I do now… with my Blue Betty moved into storage, with my Pa's inheritance funding the storage fees, redemption was nigh.

Then I remembered as I sat in one of the many greyish cubicles of a Joja desk job. Completing forms and all sorts of uninspiring work glared at me face from the glass screen. I couldn't help but think of the key that I had in my pocket. Something tells me that Pa had left something in that drawer and on the day, before Joja's planned demolition of our farm, I detoured from my route to Peggy's flat and sneaked onto the farm in the dead of night. Without anything of use to anybody, it wouldn't make sense to post security at some derelict sight.

Though the lively farmhouse had showed signs of great decay; Windows were broken in, vandalism had adorned over her now lifeless walls. What was our home became nothing more than a morbid husk of its role in the McSopwiths. Brushing the warped doors aside, I went into the cobweb-ridden bedroom, took out the pristine brass key from my pocket, and shoved it into the gaping metal lock in the cabinet.

A faint click accepted the token and I was able to slide it out and, to my surprise, there was a tattered leather hat, a pair of aviation goggles, and a yellow'd letter. I quickly grabbed them all and unfurled the note and read its writing:

Dear grandson.

I write to you in ill health but had known of a bad omen would thrall upon our thriving home, and loving family but rest assured that you will all pull out of this… because we do not go through it… but over it… as all McSopwiths were born to do.

My dear grandson, Robbie McSopwith…while I have passed on almost all of my estate to my families' accounts, only one remains… something that I wanted to keep for you… something worth much more than the many wads of cash that line their pockets… something that I had owned for years before my retirement and… it's about time that I pass this on to you…

In my will, I hereby bequeath my 'Oasis'; A small land within an enchanted region known as 'Stardew Valley'; I haven't tended to her as much not long ago but since hard times have shattered our family… perhaps you will find new purpose for the plot and maybe reignite the family legacy, that we were proud of.

If you are reading this, then take this as a chance to escape and spread your wings… you are a McSopwith and McSopwiths have the blessings of flight. Take yourself to Stardew and start a new life that so many of us longed of having.

I hope this letter finds you well.

Yours truly.

Grandad.

My eyes quivered as I read it in morbid silence, having finished my shift.

…Stardew Valley…

…I heard it so many times. A land of mystical proportions… full of ripe opportunities, untouched beauty and a destination of paradise. With this, a new flicker of hope bursts inside my cold-stricken heart and I clenched the hat against my chest.

"I will make our family proud… Pa… Granpa… look out for Ma and Peggy… would you?"

Rushing back to my aunt's apartment, I hastily gathered my belongings and began scribing into a journal. Something to help record new memories and dreams of a new life and bring it back to the herald line of Crop-dusters for years to come… and here is where I write. A diary to mark the chronicle of a new adventure; To record new memories and moments to treasure for the future and maybe even pass on to the next generation of McSopwith.

Here where I write with eager excitement… Ready to head on a trip down to Stardew and see if the legends speak true of a hidden emerald in the dirt.