My eyes slowly started to open as I tried to understand what was happening. I was laying down, staring up at the sky. Out of the thousands of times I would stare up at the sky, this was different. Vastly different. A black pillar of smoke started to cloud up the sky. I sat up and unclenched my right fist. And thats when I saw it. A wrecked plane, with pieces scattered all over the shore. I observed the scene before me in cold terror. People everywhere, some running around wildly, some helping others, and some standing deathly still, trying to convince themselves that this was just a horrible dream. Thats when I noticed the cause of the sharp pain in my left hand. A piece of metal from the plane was dug into my hand. I frantically tried to get it out but it was no use, the shard of metal was wedged into my hand. A man wearing a suit ran over to me. He pointed at my hand and opened his mouth to speak. His lips moved in a hurried fashion, but I couldn't understand. That's when it hit me.
I was deaf.
