Between the 9-5 humdrum workday and wasting too many hours in from of Twitch.tv and Netflix, I manage to occasionally find time for a creative outlet, writing. So, I like to write. I don’t do it very well, but that’s not that important. In a hopeless endeavor to gain some skill in this hobby by practicing regularly, I’ve decided to start a Fiction Friday on this blog and post a story or excerpt I’m working on.
So here goes….
The war was still far from over. It dragged on like a dull pain to Simon. The fear of danger was a distant state. Only exhaustion and redundancy was left. He wanted the war to end, not for the thousands of lives at stake or the economic drain it was seizing from the entire world. He wanted the revitalization of his dimmed emotions. He felt lost in the objective of the war. It was all he knew. The war had been carrying on for nearly his entire life.
As Simon scanned the sky from the small jet, he wondered if the enemy was just as tired. A package of supplies for troops on the ground was released moments ago without a hitch. There was normally trouble with supply runs, but not this time. No enemy was found following them to the drop point, and Simon felt useless as the gun on board.
He continued to scan the wide blue in front of him, and he finally caught a shadow from the corner of his eye. A missile was detected on the panel in front of him, but it was too late. It hit the back of the plane with a loud thunder. He could see Mark, the pilot, screaming at him, but he heard nothing but the force of debris crashing into the sides of the small plane.
Mark grabbed a parachute and opened the door. He turned back to say something to Simon, but the plane jerked and he hit his head on the opening and fell out.
Simon grabbed a parachute quickly moving against the wind that was trying to suck him out of the back of the gaping plane. As soon as he managed to fasten the pack, the plane shifted, throwing he down on the floor. With nothing to grab onto, he slipped out of the spiraling plane.
At first, he glared at the spiraling ocean beneath him. He was paralyzed by the sight of it, stretching out as far as he could see in all directions. Then he remembered Mark had to be somewhere below him. His goggles obstructed his peripheral vision, and he could not find his friend among the speeding debris.
Suddenly, he saw a white canopy emerge beneath him and he barreled past it. Relieved that Mark was conscious enough to open the chute, he pulled his own pin. He closed his eyes and smiled briefly. He knew he would survive. Mark would know what to do.
Simon began to feel uneasy. He didn’t feel the shock of his chute opening. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the growing ocean. He immediately begin trembling, thumbing around for his emergency pin. His mind went blank. His breathing became erratic. Emergency procedures were a fleeting memory beyond his grasp.
He turned to locate Mark now far above him. Stupidly, he waved his arms. Mark was floating almost directly above him with debris dropping around him. In an instant, what appeared to be scrap from the shell of the plane dropped into his canopy, shredding it. Mark’s limp body was being dragged down with the metal, enveloped in the white material.
Simon’s body shook with fear and grief. He was now going to be a casualty in the war that everyone had become so accustomed to. He was just a piece of data now for future generations to study and make callous observations about this war. He would be remembered by no one except as a tic in the newspaper statistics of the war.
Momentarily he remembered he had to act quickly. He reached for the emergency pin to release the malfunctioning chute in order to open the reserve.
His mind was clear. He faced the approaching water and let go of the pin. No longer was he alarmed that he would die today. He wanted to be released from this war.
He watched as he sped toward the water. Slowly, the waves opened, inviting him in. He felt the jolt, as if his canopy opened, and he was floating. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by light. Unaware that this was his own death, he floated slowly to the bottom with his canopy of light from the sky above him. He wore a look of relief as he floated to his resting place. He was free.