My head was bleeding and all of a sudden I wasn't in the forest anymore. As I faded in and out of conscienceness, I could make out a room. The greenhouse? But the greenhouse was at home, we were still lost! Then I saw...Courtney?
"Courtney! Courtney!" I screamed, "Where am I? Where's Francis? You're dead!"
"No!", she was yelling, "No! What do you mean I'm dead? Kurt, I'm right here!"
"But the plane cra-"
Then all was silent.
I was in white space, no one around. All was dead and so was I. Francis and I were never in the jungle. There never was a plane. It was simply me, by myself, thinking my weird, twisted thoughts. I had wandered around this greenhouse all day, killing off everything and everyone. Everyone except Francis. I couldn't touch her...so I shot myself.
True love had escaped from the pit of my burning, nauseas stomach.
THE END.
Hope you enjoyed. I know it was kind of depressing but whatever. You'll live.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Plane Crash Dreams PT. 3
Since it was morning, we started our typical routine. It was sunny; no rain. I led us down a semi-clear path and gathered some exotic berries. I didn't know what kind they were, but they had yet to kill me so I figured they were okay. I fed Francis the majority before starting our daily walk to anywhere and everywhere.
"One day", I said, "we'll be out of here. We'll wake up in our nice, warm beds and everything will okay". I was talking more to myself, but it seemed to comfort Francis as well. I kept going; "Everything is going to be fine. Someone will save us and we'll be on our way out of here, going home". I wanted more than anything to tell her that Mommy would be with us, that we would go home and she'd be waiting for us....I knew that was never going to happen.
We walked for what felt like a good five hours and I suddenly realized we were long overdue for a rest. I set Francis on the ground near a tree, and leaned my head against the bark. That's when I heard it. The voices came rushing back out of nowhere. All in a rush, Francis was gone and I was...shot?
"One day", I said, "we'll be out of here. We'll wake up in our nice, warm beds and everything will okay". I was talking more to myself, but it seemed to comfort Francis as well. I kept going; "Everything is going to be fine. Someone will save us and we'll be on our way out of here, going home". I wanted more than anything to tell her that Mommy would be with us, that we would go home and she'd be waiting for us....I knew that was never going to happen.
We walked for what felt like a good five hours and I suddenly realized we were long overdue for a rest. I set Francis on the ground near a tree, and leaned my head against the bark. That's when I heard it. The voices came rushing back out of nowhere. All in a rush, Francis was gone and I was...shot?
Plane Crash Dreams PT. 2
I awoke to the water falling on my head. Rain, of course Kurt, good going. I was angry at myself for not even giving second wind to any thought of precipitation. After all, look where we're at. No time to fret though, Francis was getting soaked. I grabbed her up in my arms and made a mad dash for shelter. But where is one to go in such a place? There was no shelter, there was no anything!
I turned my body to face a tree and maneuvered my torso over Francis to keep her dry. This was my fault. I'm the one who had to go out and play rockstar every night, and thanks to this life of mine, my own flesh and blood had to suffer. We were in the middle of God-knows-where, huddled against shrubbery to stay safe from the elements. It wasn't right, and it was all because of me.
My sanity lasted until around Tuesday. We had spent almost a week in this God-forsaken land, and I would have all but forgotten the date if I hadn't spent the better part of last night thinking about it. Francis had almost immediately fallen asleep like she usually did (after walking all day to any sign of life, it's typical of a small child to be exhausted), yet I had been wide awake all throughout the nights. I don't know why it took so long for me to realize what possible dangers we could be in, but around the second night, when the noises started, it hit me that it was imminent. The noises, like a hushed whisper, had escaped Francis; she didn't hear them...but they were there, weren't they?
I turned my body to face a tree and maneuvered my torso over Francis to keep her dry. This was my fault. I'm the one who had to go out and play rockstar every night, and thanks to this life of mine, my own flesh and blood had to suffer. We were in the middle of God-knows-where, huddled against shrubbery to stay safe from the elements. It wasn't right, and it was all because of me.
My sanity lasted until around Tuesday. We had spent almost a week in this God-forsaken land, and I would have all but forgotten the date if I hadn't spent the better part of last night thinking about it. Francis had almost immediately fallen asleep like she usually did (after walking all day to any sign of life, it's typical of a small child to be exhausted), yet I had been wide awake all throughout the nights. I don't know why it took so long for me to realize what possible dangers we could be in, but around the second night, when the noises started, it hit me that it was imminent. The noises, like a hushed whisper, had escaped Francis; she didn't hear them...but they were there, weren't they?
Plane Crash Dreams PT. 1
This is a story I wrote for my English class a long time ago. The story's title came from Josh Farro's song "Plane Crash Dreams". Enjoy~
It happened in a second. One moment we were in the sky on our way to Siesta Fest in Brazil; the next, and our plane was down in the Amazon and everyone was dead. The pilot, the crew, Dave, Krist...Courtney.
We were the only survivors, Francis and I. It was around 10AM and my mind wandered back to the airport. How could we be expecting to land in paradise just four short hours ago, and now all my friends were gone? All I had left was my daughter, and we were stranded in the middle of absolute nowhere.
As I climbed from the wreckage of the plane, carrying my nine-month-old, we could both feel the humidity pour down on us. I felt immediately uncomfortable and thought how extremely selfish I was knowing that my friends were in much worse condition. I tried not to think of them. Their bloody faces, missing limbs; it was all too much.
I walked for about an hour carrying Francis through the overgrown mass of treesand ferns. I knew it was silly to even be looking, but I still kept my eyes peeled for any sign of help. A hospital, a police station, anyone who could save my friends. They were dead; I never let that go of that thought, I simply pushed it to the back of my mind and proceeded to play the inch of hope that had escaped reality in a loop much like a melody.
We walked for several more hours until 2AM found us asleep under a large canopy of low-hanging branches. It wasn't that I was so tired; the thought of sleep didn't dare enter my mind. It was the look on the face of Francis that told me she knew. Under a year old and she still managed to piece together all that had happened. The plane exploded, it crashed into the jungle, and now Uncle Dave, Uncle Krist and Mommy were gone forever. "But why?", her eyes seemed to ask. It was at this moment I realized I too had been looming over our fate, and decided that a little rest of the mind couldn't hurt. So we walked for about another hour and eventually found a place to settle into the night. Was this life as we knew it? From living in California valleys and hills, flying first class, to sleeping on rocks in a rainforest, foriegn country and all? Is this what we had come to?
It happened in a second. One moment we were in the sky on our way to Siesta Fest in Brazil; the next, and our plane was down in the Amazon and everyone was dead. The pilot, the crew, Dave, Krist...Courtney.
We were the only survivors, Francis and I. It was around 10AM and my mind wandered back to the airport. How could we be expecting to land in paradise just four short hours ago, and now all my friends were gone? All I had left was my daughter, and we were stranded in the middle of absolute nowhere.
As I climbed from the wreckage of the plane, carrying my nine-month-old, we could both feel the humidity pour down on us. I felt immediately uncomfortable and thought how extremely selfish I was knowing that my friends were in much worse condition. I tried not to think of them. Their bloody faces, missing limbs; it was all too much.
I walked for about an hour carrying Francis through the overgrown mass of treesand ferns. I knew it was silly to even be looking, but I still kept my eyes peeled for any sign of help. A hospital, a police station, anyone who could save my friends. They were dead; I never let that go of that thought, I simply pushed it to the back of my mind and proceeded to play the inch of hope that had escaped reality in a loop much like a melody.
We walked for several more hours until 2AM found us asleep under a large canopy of low-hanging branches. It wasn't that I was so tired; the thought of sleep didn't dare enter my mind. It was the look on the face of Francis that told me she knew. Under a year old and she still managed to piece together all that had happened. The plane exploded, it crashed into the jungle, and now Uncle Dave, Uncle Krist and Mommy were gone forever. "But why?", her eyes seemed to ask. It was at this moment I realized I too had been looming over our fate, and decided that a little rest of the mind couldn't hurt. So we walked for about another hour and eventually found a place to settle into the night. Was this life as we knew it? From living in California valleys and hills, flying first class, to sleeping on rocks in a rainforest, foriegn country and all? Is this what we had come to?
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