Plane Partners

So, this story will be regularly updated in June, when summer vacation arrives. School has been unpleasantly sporadic and just too time consuming that it's starting to kill me mentally.

Anways, I just posted the first part for a small preview

Thanks a ton 

-

Plane Partners 

✈ 

Preston Declan

Inhale

Exhale

Only a 0.000000091% chance of a fatal accident occurring during a plane ride – a one in a eleven million chance. Apparently there is a higher possibility of asteroids flying through the atmosphere and destroying a large section of Earth then one dying in a plane crash.  But there is still a chance.

That chance terrified me.  

I'm Preston Declan, whit & charm extraordinaire. I don't fall in fearful spasms. 

Never

But I felt the damn fear seep into my bones the moment I boarded this isolated hell hole. As if I suddenly gained a superpower, I was able to soak in every little noise echoing from my surroundings. The wailing baby to my right, the snoring elderly man directly in front of me, and my own breathing. 

It felt like my ears were stuffed and my brain had melted down into useless crap. Too damn loud.

Infant cries. Boisterous chatter. Shaky breaths.  

Got to get the fuck out of here but at the same time - I can't.

The only fear I've come to harbor is planes. Anything remotely related to it - magazine articles, model aircrafts, or plane museums. A ridiculously attractive girl could be displayed fully nude in front of a plane and I'd still eye the picture with terror. 

And all due to a plane accident that demolished my parents. Each time I spotted one of the flying masses, it just reminded me what I lost that day - the day an airplane crashed then sunk into the Indian Ocean, the only family I loved full in tow. 

I was rendered parentless by the scrimmage, and at the same time, gained the plane phobia. 

The fear consumed me, even the word is enough to make me nauseous - it acted like a tattoo, forever indented onto my flesh, never disappearing no matter how hard I tried to tear it away. 

Planes. Stupid fucking planes. 

But as much as wanted to bolt from the plane I was situated in, I couldn't. I want - need - closure. Still, boarding this place felt like I was stepping into a trap. 

Just a plane, Preston, just a plane. 

But Dad - Mom , why did you have to die? Why did you have to condemn me to five years of elementary school as the retarded boy who couldn't bare to even touch a model spacecraft?