Plane Crash Therapy

Writing Club

June 10, 2014

Writing Prompt: “At first I could not be sure of….”

            At first I could not be sure of it.  I think it was the shock, that this was the last two minutes of my life.  The floor was quickly falling out from under me.  The sudden feeling of weightlessness had ended with gravity’s firm grip tightening around again and sending us all down.  Down in a golden glow. 

Just a moment before we were level and passing white puffs that wafted over my view of the blue and green landscape in miniature below.  Removed from the daily grind, I watched the constant scurry of brightly coloured ants over the black lines that divided the little lego block homes into neat little rows.  Busy about their tasks in total innocent oblivion to our existence 2000 feet above, the surge pulsed on caught up in their own purposes. 

Then the world outside exploded into brilliant orange with a shockwave that shook the cabin and the cotton-ball clouds grew an angry black out my little glass oval.  In disbelief, the forward motion had slowed, my stomach flipped as the nose of the plane tilted down and we were plummeting.  I was sure of it when the coffee cart slammed red headed attendant.  Her smile evaporated into wide-eyed terror as her feet left the floor and then she screeched in flight towards the cockpit. I watched her sail by the flashing fasten seat belts light and disappear into the curtains separating us average folk from first class. 

Then the yellow oxygen masks popped down to dangle in our faces.  Last whiffs of breath mercifully provided so we would be fully aware as our doomed bird struck the ground.  Like the tipping of a glass, things began to pour through the cabin, bits of paper, books, dishes, cell phones, a bottle, a briefcase in a chaotic shower.

People talk about making peace with the inevitable.  For the most part my companions were screaming.  A woman three seats down clutched her baby tightly in her arms.  A sunburned young couple clung to each other tightly weeping and whispering “I love you”s as they met they end of their honeymoon.  A business man in a neatly tailored black suit stared mournfully forward in tight lipped silence.

It was more than I could bear.  Hyperventilating, I ripped the virtual reality helmet off.  I thought that this therapy was designed to get people over their phobias.