allmywires
Well-Known Member
Just something new from my infant WIP. What it says on the tin, really - is it believable? I sincerely hope nobody on here has ever been in a plane crash, and since I haven't either I'm just conjuring out of thin air here.
#
I’m lying on the raft, my whole lower body throbbing with pain. Gabriel is next to me, his body cold and damp from the rain. Very cold. We’re all freezing, even though the smouldering wreckage of our plane isn’t too far away, smoke and flames licking at the ink-black, empty sky. The screaming and pleading from inside has stopped now, and I presume everyone who’s going to get out has done.
That makes seven of us.
I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Me and Gabriel, lying side by side. A blonde girl somewhere behind me, maybe ten years younger than me, middle-class university student type. She hasn’t stopped shaking or crying since we got out here, and I can still hear her moaning now. With her is a curly-haired man with dark, Indian-looking skin but a pretty strong North London accent who’s been trying to get signal on his phone and telling us all we’ll be all right. A woman with flat, mousy hair and manic eyes is sitting cross-legged at my feet, a child under each arm. They were being pretty noisy earlier, screaming and crying, but now even they’ve fallen silent. We have no food and only two small bottles of water. Energy’s best spent elsewhere, I suppose.
I let my hand slip off the raft, my fingers dipping into the water. So cold. I wiggle them about a bit, but soon run out of motivation. I haven’t even got the energy to shiver. Pity. After all it took to get me out of that God damned plane, and I’m going to die out here, my pelvis and knees and ribs shattered, freezing to death with five strangers and an unconscious boyfriend.
Issy...
I stir a little, the voice calling to me on the wind.
Isobel...
‘What?’ I snap. The woman with the children stares at me with her abnormally large, wide eyes. ‘Did one of you say my name?’ I demand of her.
‘I don’t even know your name,’ she says, her voice soft, nasal. American.
‘It’s Issy,’ I say, my face pressed against the raft as I sink back into the plastic, my energy sapped again. ‘Just...hit me or something, if you want me.
I’m obviously hearing things.’
There’s a long pause before she replies. ‘Marie.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Marie. My name.’ She clears her throat, somewhat nervously. ‘Ben and Ella, my kids.’
‘Hi,’ I mumble, though I can’t even discern them from their mother, it’s so dark. They don’t say a word to me.
‘Are you all right?’ Marie asks me, after a long while. ‘You’re lying at a very odd angle.’
‘I think my pelvis is broken,’ I say, with some difficulty. ‘And my boyfriend is unconscious. I think. He was last time I checked, at least.’
Another voice pipes in behind me, the Indian-looking man. ‘He’s still alive, if that’s what you were wondering.’
I let out a small sigh of relief.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m Emile.’ I feel a tentative hand on my shoulder, shaking me a little. OK, so he’s sitting behind my head, then. ‘Just so you know.’
‘Issy,’ I say again, and I’m already tired of this horrible, faux-polite charade, but at least it’s something to cling to when everything else has gone to sh*t. ‘My boyfriend’s name is Gabe. Gabriel.’
‘Issy and Gabe. Got it.’ Emile again. ‘Marie, right?’
‘Yes. And Ben and Ella.’
‘Hi.’
I listen to the waves slap against the plastic. We’re on the inflatable slide escape from the back exits, floating slowly away from the sinking wreckage. It’s surprisingly calm, a quiet night, even though there’s been rain. The sea has been kind on us, so far, even if it is as cold as the Arctic.
‘What about you?’ I can only assume Emile is talking to the only unnamed person on our raft, tearful Blondie.
‘S-Scarlett,’ she manages, through a hiccup. ‘Oh my God, I just-’ She heaves a heavy sob, and starts crying again.
‘It’s all right,’ I can hear Emile say, and the raft lurches slightly as he moves towards her. ‘Come on now, don’t waste your energy crying. Be positive. We’re alive.’
‘Stuck on a f-floating slide in the middle of the o-ocean, in the middle of the f-f*cking night, great! What’s not to be b-bloody cheerful about?’
There’s a long silence. I close my eyes. I’ve had enough of this. I know we haven't spoken much in my life, God, but if you’re planning on whisking me away somewhere warm and eternal, can you get it done sooner rather than later-
Is-o-bel, oh Is-o-bel...
I snap my eyes open again.
‘OK, which of you jokers is messing with me?’ I try and turn over, but it sends ripples of flaming agony through my shattered pelvis, and I give a shriek of pain and meekly collapse down again. ‘Oh – Jesus-’
‘Calm down,’ Emile says, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, keeping me down. ‘Stay still, all right? You’ll do more damage if you thrash about.’
#
All usual crit stuff applies too, of course.
#
I’m lying on the raft, my whole lower body throbbing with pain. Gabriel is next to me, his body cold and damp from the rain. Very cold. We’re all freezing, even though the smouldering wreckage of our plane isn’t too far away, smoke and flames licking at the ink-black, empty sky. The screaming and pleading from inside has stopped now, and I presume everyone who’s going to get out has done.
That makes seven of us.
I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Me and Gabriel, lying side by side. A blonde girl somewhere behind me, maybe ten years younger than me, middle-class university student type. She hasn’t stopped shaking or crying since we got out here, and I can still hear her moaning now. With her is a curly-haired man with dark, Indian-looking skin but a pretty strong North London accent who’s been trying to get signal on his phone and telling us all we’ll be all right. A woman with flat, mousy hair and manic eyes is sitting cross-legged at my feet, a child under each arm. They were being pretty noisy earlier, screaming and crying, but now even they’ve fallen silent. We have no food and only two small bottles of water. Energy’s best spent elsewhere, I suppose.
I let my hand slip off the raft, my fingers dipping into the water. So cold. I wiggle them about a bit, but soon run out of motivation. I haven’t even got the energy to shiver. Pity. After all it took to get me out of that God damned plane, and I’m going to die out here, my pelvis and knees and ribs shattered, freezing to death with five strangers and an unconscious boyfriend.
Issy...
I stir a little, the voice calling to me on the wind.
Isobel...
‘What?’ I snap. The woman with the children stares at me with her abnormally large, wide eyes. ‘Did one of you say my name?’ I demand of her.
‘I don’t even know your name,’ she says, her voice soft, nasal. American.
‘It’s Issy,’ I say, my face pressed against the raft as I sink back into the plastic, my energy sapped again. ‘Just...hit me or something, if you want me.
I’m obviously hearing things.’
There’s a long pause before she replies. ‘Marie.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Marie. My name.’ She clears her throat, somewhat nervously. ‘Ben and Ella, my kids.’
‘Hi,’ I mumble, though I can’t even discern them from their mother, it’s so dark. They don’t say a word to me.
‘Are you all right?’ Marie asks me, after a long while. ‘You’re lying at a very odd angle.’
‘I think my pelvis is broken,’ I say, with some difficulty. ‘And my boyfriend is unconscious. I think. He was last time I checked, at least.’
Another voice pipes in behind me, the Indian-looking man. ‘He’s still alive, if that’s what you were wondering.’
I let out a small sigh of relief.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m Emile.’ I feel a tentative hand on my shoulder, shaking me a little. OK, so he’s sitting behind my head, then. ‘Just so you know.’
‘Issy,’ I say again, and I’m already tired of this horrible, faux-polite charade, but at least it’s something to cling to when everything else has gone to sh*t. ‘My boyfriend’s name is Gabe. Gabriel.’
‘Issy and Gabe. Got it.’ Emile again. ‘Marie, right?’
‘Yes. And Ben and Ella.’
‘Hi.’
I listen to the waves slap against the plastic. We’re on the inflatable slide escape from the back exits, floating slowly away from the sinking wreckage. It’s surprisingly calm, a quiet night, even though there’s been rain. The sea has been kind on us, so far, even if it is as cold as the Arctic.
‘What about you?’ I can only assume Emile is talking to the only unnamed person on our raft, tearful Blondie.
‘S-Scarlett,’ she manages, through a hiccup. ‘Oh my God, I just-’ She heaves a heavy sob, and starts crying again.
‘It’s all right,’ I can hear Emile say, and the raft lurches slightly as he moves towards her. ‘Come on now, don’t waste your energy crying. Be positive. We’re alive.’
‘Stuck on a f-floating slide in the middle of the o-ocean, in the middle of the f-f*cking night, great! What’s not to be b-bloody cheerful about?’
There’s a long silence. I close my eyes. I’ve had enough of this. I know we haven't spoken much in my life, God, but if you’re planning on whisking me away somewhere warm and eternal, can you get it done sooner rather than later-
Is-o-bel, oh Is-o-bel...
I snap my eyes open again.
‘OK, which of you jokers is messing with me?’ I try and turn over, but it sends ripples of flaming agony through my shattered pelvis, and I give a shriek of pain and meekly collapse down again. ‘Oh – Jesus-’
‘Calm down,’ Emile says, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, keeping me down. ‘Stay still, all right? You’ll do more damage if you thrash about.’
#
All usual crit stuff applies too, of course.
