Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Story #1

Writing prompt:  A flight attendant learns that one of the passengers has brought a weapon on board.

I carefully pushed my cart of drinks as I walked down the aisle of the plane. I had worked for months perfecting that walk; steps perfectly placed, eyes forward, the soft drinks staying perfectly still. Behind me, someone cleared their throat.
                “Excuse me, miss.” I turned and saw a young man with clear brown eyes and a knowing smile looking up at me expectantly.
Excuse me.” He repeated “I would like a coca-cola, please.”
“Of course.” I turned back to my cart and picked up a small cup of coke. The moment my meticulously manicured fingers lifted the cup, the plane hit some turbulence. As I stumbled and spilled the coke across my unicform, the cart , and the floor, I silently cursed the high-heels that were part of my uniform.
                Immediately, the young man was standing, hand outstreached, to help me up. As I took the proffered hand, I glanced at the seat he had left. It wasn’t until I was standing up, and my mouth was framing the words:All passengers are required to remain in their seats at this time.” That the realization of what I had seen hit me with the complete horror that everyone must feel when they realize that the person standing next to them has brought a gun on board.
                I froze, trying to think of a way to alert the rest of the staff without being obvious, but it was too late. Either he had seen my expression for what it was, or he recognized that he had an unequaled opportunity. Before I could move, he picked up the gun. He grabbed my are and frog marched me to the front of the fuselage. He held the gun to my head and shouted for silence. A tense silence descended as the passengers realized what was happening.
                I fully expected him to shoo me, but, to my surprise, he had other plans. He started giving a long all-inclusive explanation about why he was doing this; starting with his traumatized childhood, father’s abandonment, and his mother’s favoritism, then culminating in his deep depression, his girlfriend’ unfaithfulness, and his own inability to hold down a job. I was astonished. I felt like I was in a movie or a book where the evil villain gave a long winded monologue explaining their entire plan. Never had it occurred to me that they might actually do so in real life.
                As he spoke, his grip on me loosened. I was aware that he was no so deeply involved in his own problems that he was no longer paying any attention to me. I looked around to see if anyone else had notice our opportunity to do something. I saw that the new girl, Summer, was tip-toeing, inch by inch, up to my captor. One hand was held up to her mouth in a shushing gesture, the other held tightly to a short steel bar. Summer winked down at me, took one last step forward, and prepared to swing. As I dove forward, I heard the dull thwap of metal hitting flesh. The entire plane was save with the only injuries being a bruised arm and a broken heel.

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