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Up In The Air
Gary Sevier twisted the golden wedding band on his finger. It felt strange. Unnatural.
Of course, the last three days without it had felt the same. Like his finger was missing something. Bare. Naked. But it felt like that every time he left for a conference. Every time he met up with Her.
Eight years. Eight years of (relatively) happy marriage. Increasingly dull, boring, monotonous marriage And seventeen (eighteen?) months of… this. Of secret liaisons at every professional conference and trade event. Of steamy encounters in exciting locals. Of flirtatious glances and salacious secrets.
And it all led to this. Another boring flight Home. Time spent playing with his ring, feeling guilty/happy/worried/alive. Wondering what he should do. Break it off? Come clean and tell his wife the truth? Continue in secret? For how long?
He was still staring off into space, pondering the future when the engine exploded.
The roar of the explosion was not so much deafening as shocking. It was the sound of air whistling out of the cabin that really struck him. The engine’s cowling was designed to contain a catastrophic failure, and it performed admirably. But enough shrapnel escaped its confines to pierce the aircraft’s thin aluminum skin.
The next few moments passed in a blur of panicked human noises, flickering lights, roaring air, and grasping hands.
By the time he pulled the strap on his oxygen mask tight, Gary had come to two realizations: First, his plane only had two engines, and one had exploded. Second, he was about to die.
There are certain instincts that are engraved in the human psyche. Actions that have become muscle memory. Responses to shock, surprise, and disaster that are ingrained in the fabric of society.
Without conscious thought, Greg pulled out his smartphone.
Staring at the screen, he came to a third realization. Between the oxygen mask and the roar of the wind, there was no way he could make a call. The best he could do in this, his last few moments, was send a text.
It was almost laughable. He had mere seconds to encompass a lifetime of love and happiness, mistakes and regrets, hopes and dreams. And all he had to convey it all was the crude medium of one last text.
Trembling fingers flew across the screen.
He finished the last line with special care. Hitting “Send,” he closed his eyes, automatically put his phone away, and waited for the end. There had been a garbled announcement earlier, but he had paid it no mind. The sound of wind whistling was only growing louder, and Greg was busy trying to make peace with his death.
The thud of impact was rough, but infinitely gentler than he had expected. And accompanied by the squeal of rubber and… a feeling of deceleration?
Greg opened his eyes to organized pandemonium. Once again, events passed in a blur. Stewardesses opening doors. Panicked lines. Rubber slides. The black asphalt of the runway, warmed by the sun’s kiss. The howl of sirens and bright, flashing lights. Being hustled away by paramedics and whisked away from the still smoldering aircraft.
It was only when he was back in the terminal, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, unconsciously playing with his wedding band that he realized what had happened.
He was alive. He had survived! He was ALIVE!
And… And he had sent that message. That cursed text message. He was dead His life was over
Numb fingers extracted his cellphone. Turned it on. Stared at the screen and the words written there.
Stared at the message overlaying his text.
Shaking fingers slowly pressed the backspace key, deleting his words. Paused halfway through. Then finished their task.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Greg set his fingers to a new task. Dialing a familiar phone number.
“Maggie?”
“Hey honey. What’s up? How was your flight?”
“Maggie.” He practically exhaled the world. “Maggie. I love you. I love you SO much.” With a deep sigh, almost a sob, he continued.
“I’ve made mistakes, Maggie. Big ones. But loving you was never one of them. There are things I need to tell you…”
Of course, the last three days without it had felt the same. Like his finger was missing something. Bare. Naked. But it felt like that every time he left for a conference. Every time he met up with Her.
Eight years. Eight years of (relatively) happy marriage. Increasingly dull, boring, monotonous marriage And seventeen (eighteen?) months of… this. Of secret liaisons at every professional conference and trade event. Of steamy encounters in exciting locals. Of flirtatious glances and salacious secrets.
And it all led to this. Another boring flight Home. Time spent playing with his ring, feeling guilty/happy/worried/alive. Wondering what he should do. Break it off? Come clean and tell his wife the truth? Continue in secret? For how long?
He was still staring off into space, pondering the future when the engine exploded.
The roar of the explosion was not so much deafening as shocking. It was the sound of air whistling out of the cabin that really struck him. The engine’s cowling was designed to contain a catastrophic failure, and it performed admirably. But enough shrapnel escaped its confines to pierce the aircraft’s thin aluminum skin.
The next few moments passed in a blur of panicked human noises, flickering lights, roaring air, and grasping hands.
By the time he pulled the strap on his oxygen mask tight, Gary had come to two realizations: First, his plane only had two engines, and one had exploded. Second, he was about to die.
There are certain instincts that are engraved in the human psyche. Actions that have become muscle memory. Responses to shock, surprise, and disaster that are ingrained in the fabric of society.
Without conscious thought, Greg pulled out his smartphone.
Staring at the screen, he came to a third realization. Between the oxygen mask and the roar of the wind, there was no way he could make a call. The best he could do in this, his last few moments, was send a text.
It was almost laughable. He had mere seconds to encompass a lifetime of love and happiness, mistakes and regrets, hopes and dreams. And all he had to convey it all was the crude medium of one last text.
Trembling fingers flew across the screen.
Maggie. I luv u. Hav always lved u. Ive strayed. I as weak. Foolish. Now, at the end, I realze she means nothing to me. I regret every moment spnt away from u. I wish I could see ur face one last time. Hear ur voice. Touch ur skin. I love you Maggy.
He finished the last line with special care. Hitting “Send,” he closed his eyes, automatically put his phone away, and waited for the end. There had been a garbled announcement earlier, but he had paid it no mind. The sound of wind whistling was only growing louder, and Greg was busy trying to make peace with his death.
The thud of impact was rough, but infinitely gentler than he had expected. And accompanied by the squeal of rubber and… a feeling of deceleration?
Greg opened his eyes to organized pandemonium. Once again, events passed in a blur. Stewardesses opening doors. Panicked lines. Rubber slides. The black asphalt of the runway, warmed by the sun’s kiss. The howl of sirens and bright, flashing lights. Being hustled away by paramedics and whisked away from the still smoldering aircraft.
It was only when he was back in the terminal, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, unconsciously playing with his wedding band that he realized what had happened.
He was alive. He had survived! He was ALIVE!
And… And he had sent that message. That cursed text message. He was dead His life was over
Numb fingers extracted his cellphone. Turned it on. Stared at the screen and the words written there.
Stared at the message overlaying his text.
“Airplane Mode On. Message Not Sent.”
Shaking fingers slowly pressed the backspace key, deleting his words. Paused halfway through. Then finished their task.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Greg set his fingers to a new task. Dialing a familiar phone number.
“Maggie?”
“Hey honey. What’s up? How was your flight?”
“Maggie.” He practically exhaled the world. “Maggie. I love you. I love you SO much.” With a deep sigh, almost a sob, he continued.
“I’ve made mistakes, Maggie. Big ones. But loving you was never one of them. There are things I need to tell you…”
I foresaw his survival, but you really got me with Airplane Mode. This one's beyond my ability to improve.
And all he had to convey it all was the crude medium of one last text. Don’t forget to read your fic aloud before submitting.
Mmpf. I’m not that sold on this one. Looks pretty contrived and artificial. The end is… underwhelming after a fashion. On the other hand, I don’t know how it should’ve ended for me to care more about it. It’s like the plot’s simply not my cup of tea. It’s not badly written or executed, it’s just that… I don’t really care about what happens here. Sorry :(
Mmpf. I’m not that sold on this one. Looks pretty contrived and artificial. The end is… underwhelming after a fashion. On the other hand, I don’t know how it should’ve ended for me to care more about it. It’s like the plot’s simply not my cup of tea. It’s not badly written or executed, it’s just that… I don’t really care about what happens here. Sorry :(
Slow burn intro, and a twist with an explosion. Let's see it pay off.
Instinct to smartphone... I like that.
So one quick, techinical note. Gary notes his plane has two engines, and one is gone... then assumes he's dead. That makes no sense. If it only had one engine and it was gone, fine, but... he points out the redundancy and then ignores the safety it provides. That's how I knew he wasn't dying here, and it ruined the ending.
Well, kinda ruined. "Spoiled" I guess is the word. I was also going to point out that it detailed what he did with his phone, but didn't show him taking it out of airplane mode. Thankfully that was intentional, so well done there. (I'd also been thinking about how, technically, most cellphones won't connect at higher altitudes inside a metal airliner.) Also, points to him for calling and saying the same thing. It shows him having actually learned something/changed. That's the entire point of short stories, and I'm pleased to see it captured in a great way here.
So in summary, needs a little polish, but otherwise a great slice of life.
Instinct to smartphone... I like that.
So one quick, techinical note. Gary notes his plane has two engines, and one is gone... then assumes he's dead. That makes no sense. If it only had one engine and it was gone, fine, but... he points out the redundancy and then ignores the safety it provides. That's how I knew he wasn't dying here, and it ruined the ending.
Well, kinda ruined. "Spoiled" I guess is the word. I was also going to point out that it detailed what he did with his phone, but didn't show him taking it out of airplane mode. Thankfully that was intentional, so well done there. (I'd also been thinking about how, technically, most cellphones won't connect at higher altitudes inside a metal airliner.) Also, points to him for calling and saying the same thing. It shows him having actually learned something/changed. That's the entire point of short stories, and I'm pleased to see it captured in a great way here.
So in summary, needs a little polish, but otherwise a great slice of life.
Yeah. Another case of perfectly fine but doesn't really do anything else for me. It is a perfectly serviceable arc that works perfectly well and ends nicely and I really wish I had something more interesting or constructive to say, but I don't.
This may be:
The most perfectly constructed minific I've ever read in these contests. I mean, it starts with a Person in a Place with a Problem, develops that problem through three distinct acts, and still has 1 word left over! Nicely done, author!
Mike
The most perfectly constructed minific I've ever read in these contests. I mean, it starts with a Person in a Place with a Problem, develops that problem through three distinct acts, and still has 1 word left over! Nicely done, author!
Mike
I like how you got right into the conflict! The double-take at the ending surprised me pleasantly as well, not taking the obvious solution. I do think the bit leading up to the 'sending a text' was a bit overdone, and the sudden landing a bit underdone, but... on the whole, I gotta agree with Mike. This is excellently constructed, and I enjoyed it.
I'm afraid it didn't grab me as it did others. It's written well, there's a distinct personal conflict which is resolved, and I did like how even after he realized the text didn't go through he still stuck with it, but I just didn't feel grabbed by it. It feels almost... mundane in storytelling to me, hitting the beats in tempo but not in a way that really roused me. I'm afraid I don't have anything more profound than that to say, apologies if it sounds like a rather weak reason to be detached from a story.
Okay, whoever wrote this story must've been going to my university, because I reviewed a classmate's story a few months ago that had an almost identical series of events (e.g. cheating husband on a plane, sending a final text). That, or this is just a really common plot device.
Either way, this story is just alright. It hits all the right beats of emotion, description and spacing, without coming off as too manipulative. The part with the Airplane Mode was the only thing that surprised me, but I'm not sure it's enough originality to really make me go gaga for this tale.
It's a serviceable story, but not much else.
Either way, this story is just alright. It hits all the right beats of emotion, description and spacing, without coming off as too manipulative. The part with the Airplane Mode was the only thing that surprised me, but I'm not sure it's enough originality to really make me go gaga for this tale.
It's a serviceable story, but not much else.