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Deliberate Act
The scratching at the door woke Captain Philips up. It was a loud, deep scratching noise, and for a moment he thought that he back in his flat in Lancaster, and that Robin’s dog Mindy was scratching at the door, waiting to be let in.
He blinked, attempting to marshal his thoughts. There was something wet running down his face and into his eyes, so he wiped his face with his hands. His hands were slick with something red. He tried to stand up, but something held him down. He was strapped into his seat? He checked the chair on his right. McAllen wasn’t there, which wasn’t right. McAllen was the copilot, he helped fly the plane. He was always supposed to be in his seat. What was that the seat was stained with? It was a very dark crimson color soaked into the fabric. Why?
There was a pounding throb in his head. Fragments of memory started to come back. Philips and McAllen entering the cockpit, running checklists, taking off. They had been cruising for a short while and the attendants had started the meal service. McAllen wasn’t in the mood for the airline’s food, so he’d bought a fancy sub sandwich from duty free and asked an attendant to stow it. There’d been a confusion though, as meal service started, and Philips remembered McAllen’s words oddly clearly.
“Look, I just want my sandwich.”
With that McAllen gotten out of his seat and opened the cockpit door. The next moments were hazy. All that Philips remembered was being slammed against his harness by an overwhelming force and that his head had cracked against the windscreen. The rest was a blur.
Confused, but now more focused, Philips turned in his seat to look over the cockpit, but his breath hitched in his throat at what he saw. McAllen, or rather his bloodied body, lay propped against the cockpit door. The once white and crisp uniform shirt was torn in places and filthy with blood.
Philips tried to process the situation. McAllen, a guy that he’d known for years, partied with, gone clubbing with, bitched about corporate with, been friends with… was dead. Something had come into the cockpit and attacked them, and judging from how bloodied McAllen’s hands were, looked like McAllen had fought it off, before succumbing to his wounds. Philips looked at McAllen’s face and shuddered. Eye staring ahead, from a sunken in face, gazed right back.
Tearing his gaze away from the body’s haunting visage, he looked around it, at the door. It was locked tight. The door scratcher had stopped scratching and was now butting against the door, rattling the frame with each hit.
Settling down in his seat, wincing with every thud against the door, Philips evaluated the situation. Something had come into the cockpit and attacked them. Currently, it was outside of the locked cockpit. He needed more information. He checked the small monitor that gave the view of the cabin. It was a bloodbath, bodies thrown against each other, the walls of the cabin painted with blood. No one was moving, the entire cabin still, save for the chitinous dog sized creature that was pounding on the door, putting more weight behind every blow. A plan wormed its way through Philip’s mind.
He sunk into his chair and considered it. It was diabolical, it was unethical, it was morally wrong. But he had to go through with it. In the event of a terrorist hijacking, the cockpit door stayed closed and the pilots kept control, no matter the cost. Someone might’ve still been alive in the tangle of bodies that littered the cabin, but Philips had a duty to bring the plane down safely. If anyone was alive, in a few minutes they wouldn’t be, nothing would. Morbidly, he prayed that everyone was already dead so that his conscience might remain clear. His next actions would save him or damn him.
He grabbed his oxygen mask from above his head and donned it, turning on the oxygen. Next he turned off the plane’s pressurization system and opened the outflow valves. The air in the plane rapidly thinned. Within moments alarm bells rang out, meant to warn an unsuspecting pilot of a quick death from hypoxia. Philips ignored them, simply silencing the alarms. The plane, having rapidly unpressurized, was now an environment unsuitable for life.
Philips slumped back in his seat and solemnly keyed his radio.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. Aloha One-Three. Crew incapacitation…”
He blinked, attempting to marshal his thoughts. There was something wet running down his face and into his eyes, so he wiped his face with his hands. His hands were slick with something red. He tried to stand up, but something held him down. He was strapped into his seat? He checked the chair on his right. McAllen wasn’t there, which wasn’t right. McAllen was the copilot, he helped fly the plane. He was always supposed to be in his seat. What was that the seat was stained with? It was a very dark crimson color soaked into the fabric. Why?
There was a pounding throb in his head. Fragments of memory started to come back. Philips and McAllen entering the cockpit, running checklists, taking off. They had been cruising for a short while and the attendants had started the meal service. McAllen wasn’t in the mood for the airline’s food, so he’d bought a fancy sub sandwich from duty free and asked an attendant to stow it. There’d been a confusion though, as meal service started, and Philips remembered McAllen’s words oddly clearly.
“Look, I just want my sandwich.”
With that McAllen gotten out of his seat and opened the cockpit door. The next moments were hazy. All that Philips remembered was being slammed against his harness by an overwhelming force and that his head had cracked against the windscreen. The rest was a blur.
Confused, but now more focused, Philips turned in his seat to look over the cockpit, but his breath hitched in his throat at what he saw. McAllen, or rather his bloodied body, lay propped against the cockpit door. The once white and crisp uniform shirt was torn in places and filthy with blood.
Philips tried to process the situation. McAllen, a guy that he’d known for years, partied with, gone clubbing with, bitched about corporate with, been friends with… was dead. Something had come into the cockpit and attacked them, and judging from how bloodied McAllen’s hands were, looked like McAllen had fought it off, before succumbing to his wounds. Philips looked at McAllen’s face and shuddered. Eye staring ahead, from a sunken in face, gazed right back.
Tearing his gaze away from the body’s haunting visage, he looked around it, at the door. It was locked tight. The door scratcher had stopped scratching and was now butting against the door, rattling the frame with each hit.
Settling down in his seat, wincing with every thud against the door, Philips evaluated the situation. Something had come into the cockpit and attacked them. Currently, it was outside of the locked cockpit. He needed more information. He checked the small monitor that gave the view of the cabin. It was a bloodbath, bodies thrown against each other, the walls of the cabin painted with blood. No one was moving, the entire cabin still, save for the chitinous dog sized creature that was pounding on the door, putting more weight behind every blow. A plan wormed its way through Philip’s mind.
He sunk into his chair and considered it. It was diabolical, it was unethical, it was morally wrong. But he had to go through with it. In the event of a terrorist hijacking, the cockpit door stayed closed and the pilots kept control, no matter the cost. Someone might’ve still been alive in the tangle of bodies that littered the cabin, but Philips had a duty to bring the plane down safely. If anyone was alive, in a few minutes they wouldn’t be, nothing would. Morbidly, he prayed that everyone was already dead so that his conscience might remain clear. His next actions would save him or damn him.
He grabbed his oxygen mask from above his head and donned it, turning on the oxygen. Next he turned off the plane’s pressurization system and opened the outflow valves. The air in the plane rapidly thinned. Within moments alarm bells rang out, meant to warn an unsuspecting pilot of a quick death from hypoxia. Philips ignored them, simply silencing the alarms. The plane, having rapidly unpressurized, was now an environment unsuitable for life.
Philips slumped back in his seat and solemnly keyed his radio.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. Aloha One-Three. Crew incapacitation…”
I appreciate that you didn't restrain yourself with the prompt, but went 20,000 feet above and beyond it.
Perhaps you could have done a bit more to sell the tension and terror, in particular when the pilot discovers the creature.
Also, for a second there I believed he intended to crash the plane with no survivors. What he did was clever enough.
Perhaps you could have done a bit more to sell the tension and terror, in particular when the pilot discovers the creature.
Also, for a second there I believed he intended to crash the plane with no survivors. What he did was clever enough.
Nitpick: Missing word in the first paragraph.
Direct prompt drops are always a bit risky, especially in a minific round. They're a fourth-wall break, basically, and it's hard not to feel like you don't trust your readers to evaluate how you interpreted the prompt. I try not to penalize them in my scoring because they often are a new-author not-knowing-the-group-norms thing (and that shouldn't be cause for penalty), but I've been doing Writeoffs so long that it feels a bit to me like running across the narrative bludgeoning of "Twilight died, and everyone was sad."
Also, I didn't realize that the plane was still in the air until three paragraphs from the end. The cold open strongly implied this picked up in the aftermath of a crash. I suggest adding something about a beeping warning from the autopilot being engaged, maybe?
Ultimately, I think this leaves me with too many questions to be effective horror. How did a demon dog appear on a plane in midair? Why didn't they have any warning of the attack if they have a monitor showing the cabin? Why does he assume there might be other survivors if the cabin is a bloodbath and the dog is reduced to beating down a locked security door for new victims? (And why wouldn't any survivors get masks of their own when the cabin depressurizes?) However, I think the disorientation of the opening narrative was a nice touch, and the protagonist's reactions and emotions feel believable throughout (even if the descriptions felt a bit flat, overusing "blood").
Tier: Almost There
“Look, I just want my sandwich.”
Direct prompt drops are always a bit risky, especially in a minific round. They're a fourth-wall break, basically, and it's hard not to feel like you don't trust your readers to evaluate how you interpreted the prompt. I try not to penalize them in my scoring because they often are a new-author not-knowing-the-group-norms thing (and that shouldn't be cause for penalty), but I've been doing Writeoffs so long that it feels a bit to me like running across the narrative bludgeoning of "Twilight died, and everyone was sad."
Also, I didn't realize that the plane was still in the air until three paragraphs from the end. The cold open strongly implied this picked up in the aftermath of a crash. I suggest adding something about a beeping warning from the autopilot being engaged, maybe?
Ultimately, I think this leaves me with too many questions to be effective horror. How did a demon dog appear on a plane in midair? Why didn't they have any warning of the attack if they have a monitor showing the cabin? Why does he assume there might be other survivors if the cabin is a bloodbath and the dog is reduced to beating down a locked security door for new victims? (And why wouldn't any survivors get masks of their own when the cabin depressurizes?) However, I think the disorientation of the opening narrative was a nice touch, and the protagonist's reactions and emotions feel believable throughout (even if the descriptions felt a bit flat, overusing "blood").
Tier: Almost There
I would have been interested in reading this outside of the parameters of the minific round, as the word limit and approach taken left me with way more questions than was probably intended. Most of those have already been highlighted by >>horizon so I won't repeat them again.
I do feel that the initial sense of disorientation created an interesting dynamic to the opening, although I'm not sure the detachment felt right at times. Kind of almost feels as though it might have been a stronger approach to have adopted a first person stream of consciousness, to better show the increasing levels of clarity in the protagonist as to his situation. As it was, there were a series of flat observations, and then suddenly "a plan". I mean, there wasn't even a reaction from him on noticing the demon dog... it all left me feeling at arms length from the immediacy of a terrifying situation, and that weakened the horror element for me.
Not bad, and certainly an interesting take on the prompt, but not without its issues. Thanks for sharing your work.
I do feel that the initial sense of disorientation created an interesting dynamic to the opening, although I'm not sure the detachment felt right at times. Kind of almost feels as though it might have been a stronger approach to have adopted a first person stream of consciousness, to better show the increasing levels of clarity in the protagonist as to his situation. As it was, there were a series of flat observations, and then suddenly "a plan". I mean, there wasn't even a reaction from him on noticing the demon dog... it all left me feeling at arms length from the immediacy of a terrifying situation, and that weakened the horror element for me.
Not bad, and certainly an interesting take on the prompt, but not without its issues. Thanks for sharing your work.
Well, as the other pointed out, what sticks out like a sore thumb in this story is its weirdness. The premise is weird, the execution is weird, and the resolution — given that we may consider the last lines of this story as a resolution — is weird too. There are several plot holes that ruin the reader's experience: why is the captain still alive? Why has the ‘creature‘ – for want of a better word – gone inside the cabin, then exited taking great pain to not be able to re-enter again? We might even ask how come the plane is still flying.
And the final solution… well. In the event of a terrorist hijacking, the cockpit door stayed closed and the pilots kept control, no matter the cost. Really? Is the personnel more important than the pax? I wonder
And the final solution… well. In the event of a terrorist hijacking, the cockpit door stayed closed and the pilots kept control, no matter the cost. Really? Is the personnel more important than the pax? I wonder
...who designed a harness that lets you smack your head on the windscreen while you're still wearing it?
I think my biggest problem with this story is that I wasn't really sure what part I was supposed to be paying attention to. Should I be worried about his friend? No, he's dead. Should I be worried about crashing? Apparently not, because it's never mentioned. Should I be worried about how horrible a decision he's making? Perhaps, but he seems to rationalize it fairly well, so maybe not? Should I be worried about the thing getting in? Maybe, but depressurizing might have taken care of it as well. Should I be worried about what happened to the sandwich? I dunno.
I guess, overall, this story feels remarkably unfocused to me. More words might help with that.
I think my biggest problem with this story is that I wasn't really sure what part I was supposed to be paying attention to. Should I be worried about his friend? No, he's dead. Should I be worried about crashing? Apparently not, because it's never mentioned. Should I be worried about how horrible a decision he's making? Perhaps, but he seems to rationalize it fairly well, so maybe not? Should I be worried about the thing getting in? Maybe, but depressurizing might have taken care of it as well. Should I be worried about what happened to the sandwich? I dunno.
I guess, overall, this story feels remarkably unfocused to me. More words might help with that.
>>Monokeras
To clarify, I hoped that I had been able to convey that the co-pilot had managed to beat the creature back from the cockpit, but was mortally wounded in the process.
The plane is still flying because the autopilot flies the plane basically most of the time with modern aircraft. On the ground the pilots key in the waypoints from the flight plan that the flight director then follows during flight. It saves fuel and makes for a faster and smoother flight. Unless it was turned off, or it got erroneous sensor data and turned itself off, the autopilot would stay on.
And to answer your last question, YES. In the event of a hijacking, there's a reason why the cockpit door is armored. The pilots will never open that door until the plane is on the ground and the police have boarded the aircraft.
>>Ceffyl_Dwr
I wish I had more words to do this with. I believe that the final draft had 900, which I had to cut down to 750...
Some clarifying details were lost, and it would've been nicer to drag the scenes of discovery on longer, because then I might've been able to convey more confusion, fright, and horror.
>>horizon
I should have given more details about the plane being in flight. Perhaps a radio-call from Air Traffic Control asking them to respond, since they've missed their last check-in, and that if they don't respond in the next 10 minutes, some F-16's are going to escort them down.
Tbh, the original, non-cut-down draft followed the depressurization scene more, and it was a little bit longer. The 'rubber jungle' pops out if the cabin is at a low pressure for too long, and the oxygen flow to those masks can be controlled from the cockpit (If there's a fire in the cabin, you don't want to feed it oxygen).
To clarify, I hoped that I had been able to convey that the co-pilot had managed to beat the creature back from the cockpit, but was mortally wounded in the process.
The plane is still flying because the autopilot flies the plane basically most of the time with modern aircraft. On the ground the pilots key in the waypoints from the flight plan that the flight director then follows during flight. It saves fuel and makes for a faster and smoother flight. Unless it was turned off, or it got erroneous sensor data and turned itself off, the autopilot would stay on.
And to answer your last question, YES. In the event of a hijacking, there's a reason why the cockpit door is armored. The pilots will never open that door until the plane is on the ground and the police have boarded the aircraft.
>>Ceffyl_Dwr
I wish I had more words to do this with. I believe that the final draft had 900, which I had to cut down to 750...
Some clarifying details were lost, and it would've been nicer to drag the scenes of discovery on longer, because then I might've been able to convey more confusion, fright, and horror.
>>horizon
I should have given more details about the plane being in flight. Perhaps a radio-call from Air Traffic Control asking them to respond, since they've missed their last check-in, and that if they don't respond in the next 10 minutes, some F-16's are going to escort them down.
Tbh, the original, non-cut-down draft followed the depressurization scene more, and it was a little bit longer. The 'rubber jungle' pops out if the cabin is at a low pressure for too long, and the oxygen flow to those masks can be controlled from the cockpit (If there's a fire in the cabin, you don't want to feed it oxygen).