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January 24, 2006

January 24, 2006

Sometimes, there really is no hope. Sometimes even the most desperate plan will not grant escape. Sometimes, you simply cannot change things. Then what?

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The port wing shearing off distracted me from the fuel light. The plane nosed down and left, spiraling. I grabbed the mike and shouted, "Mayday! This is Whisky Tango Foxtrot Niner! I am going down!" I noticed the other end of the microphone wire dangling free.

Fighting centripetal forces, I popped my harness and shoved the door open. It tore off, spun, and sliced explosively into the other engine. Instinctively, I leapt, away from the doomed craft, fumbling for the emergency chute’s ripcord. It came off in my hand.

"Oh," I thought, "it's going to be one of those days."

Posted by: David at January 24, 2006 11:47 AM · Permalink

It was hard to get moving this morning. Even after stumbling into the bathroom, and splashing some water on my face, I still couldn't quite wake up. I made my way downstairs, and opened the blinds.

Ah, hell.

The road outside was a river of molten lava, and fire was raining from the sky. And I'll be damned if that guy with the pitchfork wasn't sporting a pair of goat legs.

Damned, indeed.

I closed the blinds, and rummaged in the cupboard for a bottle of rum, and crawled back into bed.

Eternity is a hell of a long time.

Posted by: No One of Consequence at January 24, 2006 1:03 PM · Permalink

I figured I could keep the ship afloat, somehow, so when the waves washed my lifevest overboard and away, I stayed with my little sinking sailboat.

But it kept sinking. And here I was, clinging to the last upturned corner. I lost my direction, and really don’t even know which way the shore is now. I’ll swim for a while, but soon, I’ll know I’ll wear myself out. Then, gasping between the waves, trying to drink the sea, saltwater burning my throat, I’ll just give in, exhale my last breath, and sink.

Unless a shark gets me first, of course.

Posted by: Mr. Parx at January 24, 2006 1:05 PM · Permalink