Prayers. Screams. Epiphanies and confessions. All lost against the white-noise roar of the wind tearing through the wasted fuselage. Movies never quite accurately depict how loud a plane crash is from the inside.
        It felt like we’d been falling for an hour, but it’d probably only been about 10 seconds, and that’s a stretch. I’d managed to get my mask on but the jarring marriage of natural turbulence and mechanical failure dragged my stomach up through my heart and I ended up vomiting into the mask and my own lungs. Choking, I tore the dripping plastic off of my face and glued my eyes to the window. Lucky me, I had the perfect seat. The wing was on fire, half of it gone, and an unknown force had punctured our side of the plane near the tail.

32,038 feet

I’d never really thought about my own mortality until now.

30,088 feet

There are so many things I’ve taken for granted.

27,239 feet

Maisie, my daughter. Theodore, my husband. David and Marie, my parents. Uncle Eddie. Stephanie. Cybelle. Peter. Georgie. Harris. Derek.

19,110 feet

My nipples are hard and I’m wet between the thighs. It’s almost comical. Is this the ravenous expectancy of death – the morbid curiosity turned eroticism that we’ve been conditioned to over the years?

14,895 feet

I blacked out for a second, and came closer to nothingness.

10,673 feet

Throttling. Resistance against the fall. Are we gliding?

9,308 feet

We are. We’re gliding.

8,298 feet

There’s still hope.

3,893 feet

I’m not sure what happened but we’re somehow set to land safely on the water. I can see it now. It’s everything below us. The water is the earth. A blue orb. A net.

There’s nothing else.

1,758 feet

I’ll never take anything for granted again. I can’t wait to throw myself at the land and kiss dirt. I can’t wait to throw myself into Theodore’s arms and kiss Maisie on the forehead and know comfort and safety.

639 feet

We’re rapidly but smoothly approaching the water, a clear deep blue glinting like a crystal savior.

0 feet

My heart is in my feet and tingling at the top of my skul. I can’t believe we made it through. The pilot’s voice is unnerved but still somehow steely cool in the wave of static pouring out of the speakers. We’ll be safe soon. We’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to see Theod––

968 feet

I jolted awake, groggy and gasping from the lack of oxygen. Just in time to see the mountain. Just in time to feel my right arm and leg break from a sudden shift against the wind. Just in time to feel the flames burst up into the fuselage and start to lick the skin from my bones like hungry piglets to a mother sow. Just in time to smell death and breathe ash and blink away the known world. Just in time.