Saturday, June 6, 2009

Flight 631

Flight 631
By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 351

“When the port engine cut out, all I could think of was that plane that went down in the Atlantic. I was really scared, but the engine coughed and then came back to life...thank goodness,” Brendan said to the stranger sitting in the seat next to him on the plane. “Was this same airline, flight 631, come to think of it, just over a year ago to the day?”

“Yeh, thanks,” said the old man. “Thanks a lot. I hate flying as it is, without any tales like that to cheer me up.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, but it is Frank. Frank Halford. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to try and sleep,” said the stranger before pulling his hat down over his face.

Brendan turned and looked out the window, wanting to continue his conversation, but knowing the old man would pretend to be asleep for the remainder of the flight, just to avoid him. If the stranger wouldn’t listen to him, then Brendan would just have to do something about it, make him listen.

The plane shook fiercely, knocking the hostess pushing the drink trolley to the floor and sending glasses flying.

“What was that?” someone cried.

“Did we hit something?” another passenger yelled.

The sky was clear outside, not a single cloud to be seen. The fasten your seatbelt light flashed on and the captain made an abrupt announcement. “Please remain seated, we are experiencing some mechanical issues, but there is nothing to worry about.”

Brendan smiled, watching the engines die in a splutter. The plane dropped rapidly and anything not secured flew up and hit the roof of the cabin.

“You’ve jinxed us!” said the old man sitting next to Brendan.

Brendan turned and grinned.

“Like I said, the engines cut out. Just like this and we dropped, we were on a roller coaster for about three minutes before the pilot regained control again. It changed my life forever.”


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