787

It was a dark September night, when I was travelling to the States. I was trying to enjoy my trip, but my fear of planes would not let me rest. They said this Boeing 787 is perfectly safe, but inside me I refused to believe them.

I was on that damn plane for four hours already, I couldn't take it any more. Cold sweat came with anxiety.

As terrible thoughts passed my mind I started to shake. The rainy weather made my condition even worse, and then it happened.

I saw a lighting bolt outside my window, and then another. We were inside a storm.

My worst fears came to life when everything started to shake. The other passengers were startled at that point.

I could hear screams and loud noises I could not recognize. The light would go out and back on. The emergency oxygen masks dropped. Everyone put them on and they waited.

They waited because they could do absolutely nothing. But I couldn't do that. I was in panic, sitting down and waiting was not something I was able to do. The plane was going down. The speed increased with every second.

We would drop in the ocean, and if anyone survived, they would die there, floating over the black abyss, waiting for a rescue.

My body could not hold the speed. The air was becoming lighter and lighter. I couldn't breathe.

My hands were holding my neck, as someone was trying to suffocate me. No one was watching me, no one was there to help. They were praying and holding their loved ones. I was definitely going to die.

Suddenly, the lights were back on, and the speed seemed to decrease. After a few moments, we could hear the pilot from the speakers. "Do not worry, the danger is over now, we will land with safety. We have taken conrtol of the plane". Eveyone would cheer and celebrate the fact. Tears of happiness would drop.

Too bad I was already dead a minute ago.