When I awake, the plane is empty.
My face leaves an imprint on the small round window when I peel it off to get a better look.
It's dark, both inside and out, but there's a soft glow emitting from the seatbelt sign, and it's just enough light to see by.
The Chinese woman who sat to my right is gone, and there is no sign of her or her friend/sister. Nor any sign of their husbands who sat in the row in front of us. Nor the random people behind me.
I am the only person on the plane.
As I climbed over the seats to the aisle, I note that the seats were neatly prepped, just as they were before we boarded the plane.
Outside the clouds, made visible by the red light on the wings of the aircraft, were a stormy grey, but there was no rain, no thunder, no lightning, and no turbulence.
My ears felt muffled, and the only way I knew the engines were running was because of the tingling vibration my feet detected.
They were no longer barefoot.
Then I realize my whole attire has changed.
Gone were the pair of light brown shorts I had since I was 8, a black and white striped cotton shirt I remember being my favorite when I was 6.
A comfortable black hoodie with the Jurassic Park logo covers me against the slight chill of the air, accompanied by a pair of black cargo pants and black converse.
I glided slowly and silently down the walk way between chairs, making my way to the front.
Surely if the plane was in motion, thousands of feet in the air, then someone had to be flying the plane.
No one answered when I knocked, and the door to the cockpit opened easily and smoothly when I pushed gently on it.
I was greeted by the open horizon, and I tilted my head to the side at the sight of the sudden sun.
It had to be the rising sun.
I was heading East.
Instead of filling me with the wonder and beauty previous horizons had bestilled in me before, this sight filled me with heartache.
Tears formed, my nose stung, and my throat felt sore and thick.
I was leaving home.
And odds were never coming back.
YOU ARE READING
Chronicles of the Desolate
RandomFictional stories from War, to children's tales, to the darkness of space and everything in between, these are Shorts--not stories or one shots, but short accounts, spin-offs, cut-scenes and previews of larger stories or just thoughts written down o...
