Short Story: The Flight

These short stories are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread

The rumbling from the engine was making the nerves from his stomach spread to his legs, causing him to clamp them together in a desperate attempt. Frank was sitting in a small plane, no larger than the estate car his employer had sent to pick him up.

After weeks of court battles, backroom talks, and judges threatening to throw everyone in the courtroom into jail, they managed to create a clean break. His client would be divorced, his now ex-wife would get a small fortune, but he would stay the very rich man he had always been.

As a thanks the client had invited everyone at Frank’s law firm to experience something they had never done before. For most it meant being driven in a race car, a night at luxury hotels, it was only Frank that asked to see the world from high above.

He had never been in a plane before, preferring instead to drive his car across the country to meet each new client. But his wife had insisted that he try this experience, as it would certainly be an exceptional experience.

Frank had thought the client would charter him a plane ticket in business class, it was with growing horror the day of the flight that he noticed the client was there. Not only that, the plane they were getting into was something called a Cessna. It was with numb hands that Frank accepted the headphones from the client who was sitting in one of the two seats in the plane.

He would be flying with his client as the captain, a man he had seen drinking two bottles of whiskey in no more that a few hours would be in charge of defying the laws of gravity.

Frank was about to try and escape out the door he had entered when the engine gave a guttural rumble and they started moving. The client was talking on the radio, Frank could hear replies from someone else, probably safely on the ground, laughing at the idiots in their tin cans.

As he turned to look outside, at the face of his waving wife, who stood resolutely as far away from the plane as possible he nearly lost full control of his bladder. What happened next Frank would not know as he had closed his eyes, ignored all sounds, and grabbed onto the belt around his chest until his knuckles went white.

He felt the engine of the plane rumble one more time then get into an even rhythm, the entire body of the small plane rumbling in perfect synchronization. For what felt like forever he kept his eyes closed until the client shook him on the shoulder.

“The worst is over Frank, enjoy the views.”

Frank stared at the man like he was a madman but eventually he turned to look away from the man. Through the small window in front all he could see were clouds and an endless blue sky that promised to swallow him whole. Frank imagined for a moment what it must be like to be completely surrounded by nothing but sky when he quickly turned to look to his side.

His fingers were cramping now, muscles no longer willing to hold onto the seatbelt with all their strength.

Frank barely noticed the pain and slowly he let go as what he saw overtook every thought he had. The world stretched out around him, with the valleys of farmland he had always known to exist around his town going endlessly into the south. He marvelled as the different flowers, crops, animals, and even tractors made the ground look like a painting,

As he marvelled he imagined he could see the people walking there, wondering how a small tin can could stay afloat. He was about to ask where they were when the first large mountain came into view and he heard the client ramble off a set of numbers over the headphones.

It was here the Frank saw the land change from farmlands to endless forest, rivers like roots cutting through it all. He followed a small stream as it joined with others, the water turning a bright blue, following the river up to its source on the mountain.

A glitter caught his eye as they flew closer to the mountain, there atop the mountain was a white peak and they were flying along the very edge. A mountain that rose thousands of feet and they were cresting it like it was nothing but a small mound of earth in their way.

Frank was transfixed, trying to follow each rivulet of water to their destination when he felt another tug on his shoulder. The client said nothing, simply pointing ahead of them, there Frank saw more mountain, rising ever higher into the air.

Each peak given a white hat, roots of water flowing into endless forests, hills rising to try and meet the elder mountains. He counted one, three, six, nine, twenty and then gave up, there were too many and as they flew towards them, he felt the small plane tilt again.

Slowly he could see nothing but the highest peaks and the fear threatened to strike him again. But he held resolute and tried to catch the last few glimpses of the mountains behind them.

It was getting oddly dark when suddenly the world was enveloped by a white fog and Frank could no longer tell if he was in the air or walking across a field in the heart of a winter snowstorm.

The engine rumbled its displeasure and for a moment Frank thought they would fall when a blinding orange and white light blinded him. He closed his eyes and felt the client hand him something, through squinted eyes he opened the sunglasses and affixed them, careful to tuck them in under the headphones.

Frank had seen many things in his life, but none could compare to the wonder of what lie around him now. As far as his eyes could see was an ocean of whiteness, rumbling, rolling, colliding all at once and they were above it all.

The clouds shone with an inner light, each a unique shade of orange, gold, white, some even as blue as icebergs he had seen in books. The ocean tumbled and toiled, changing, through the glasses he could see the sun, clearer than ever before.

Frank wanted to put his hands out and try to clasp some of it, surely, he could, it looked thick as candy. He felt the plane pitch again, slowly the horizon of endless clouds was replaced, as they turned back down towards the earth.

With a burst they flew through the clouds and out the other side, where the mountain peaks lay far behind them. Replaced by the woods that had formed around each, but now they too seemed like an ocean, stretching as far as he could see.

A green ocean of trees, each unique in their own way, all similar enough that he could not tell them apart if asked. They flew ever lower and the client only aligned the plane once they have reached the very peaks of the tallest trees.

Becoming lost in the endless wander of a great green ocean Frank nearly missed the cutting line, where it all ended and they aligned over the true ocean. White sand beaches dotted with those walking along them, each a speck no larger than the pin of a needle.

The plane pitched as the client turned it to fly along the coast, giving Frank the chance to look over the ocean. There he saw the horizon of the world, the very edges of human nature, the endless places no one could reach without and invitation.

Frank lost himself completely in the blue horizon, where the sky, clouds, and water seemed to become one. As they flew onwards, he heard the client talk to someone on the radio again and they turned inwards back over the trees.

But there between them all was a line, a shining road of tar that looked altogether like nothing he had seen before. The road cut through the trees in a perfect straight line and Frank could see the cars on them, how small they looked from this height.

The flew along the road until they reached the town, the roads multiplying, the farmers reappearing, like an intricate web that was spun from nothing he saw the town he had lived all his life in a new way. With another sweep around the town the aligned towards the small airport that they had taken off from, Frank could swear it was only moments ago.

He turned to the client and saw that he looked rather tired, asking “Such a short trip?”
Laughing boisterously the client replied, “Frank we flew for nearly two hours, my fuel is low, we must land.”

Frank didn’t reply, instead as they landed, he thanked the client and kissed his wife. She drove them home, having gotten their car while they were in the air. At a loss for words they drove in silence, he could not describe his experience.

Instead, when Frank got home that evening he opened the phone book and searched until he found it, picking up his phone he made the call, “Hello, is this the H.L. School for flying?”