Okay, I tried this out. This is the plane crash from Kira's point of view. (I know it's long, and small—good luck to anyone reading it.) Hope you guys like it!
The constant rumbling vibration of the airplane was starting to annoy Kira. She hadn't noticed it as much during the first several hours of the trip, but now the music from her headphones couldn't distract her from it.
With a sigh, she pulled the earbuds out and stretched her stiff limbs as much as her seatbelt would allow. The flight to Japan was a total of fourteen long hours and it was barely half over. The view outside the window revealed only the endlessly blinding white of the arctic. Nothing interesting to draw.
Kira was bored.
She glanced over at the seat next to her. Her sister Akiko was watching the screen in front of her intently. It showed the plane's progress toward their home country. Seven hours and fifty-six minutes remaining.
Kira knew her sister was sorry to leave the Swiss finishing school, where the sisters had been living for a month. Akiko had loved it there—but all the lessons in etiquette and proper behavior had been trying for Kira. What was the use of so many forks in a proper table setting? She couldn't see why one wasn't enough. Not to mention the French they had to master while living there.
"Are you okay?" Akiko asked, in just the language Kira had been trying to ignore. Her quiet voice would have made their instructors smile, but was barely audible over the plane's noise.
Kira realized a frown had betrayed her thoughts on the memories of the past month. She quickly nodded and looked away from the questions in Akiko's eyes. But she knew that Akiko probably understood what was going through her head. In truth, Kira was hardly looking forward to reaching home any more than she was to heading back to school after the break. Their parents had had to really pressure Kira to agree to go to the finishing school. Kira had known she hadn't really had a choice but to obey her parents' wishes. They'd reassured her that she would thank them later in life.
The words hadn't meant much then, and they didn't mean much now. She just didn't seem cut out for being the proper young lady her instructors wanted. She'd rather live life her way and leave the properness to Akiko, who excelled in the area.
A gentle tap on her shoulder called Kira from her thoughts. Akiko offered Kira an airplane pillow and blanket with a small smile. "Try to rest," she said in Japanese.
Kira accepted the pillow and blanket with a genuine smile. She appreciated her sister's effort. Pulling the thin blanket around her, Kira curled up against the window and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the plane's rumbling. The noise and vibration turned almost soothing as she drifted off.
Kira was half awakened by the changes in the plane's vibration. Just turbulence, she told herself, her eyes still shut. She reached for the blanket, but it seemed to have fallen to the floor.
A particularly sharp dip forced Kira's eyes open. More than a few people shrieked, and Kira gripped her armrests. Akiko's eyes were wide with fright. Kira opened her mouth to reassure her.
Another drop interrupted her, and the cabin lights blinked in and out. Kira could see the fear in passengers around her. The lights continued to flash and flicker. The plane jittered unnaturally.
This wasn't a. . . It couldn't be. Plane crashes almost never happened.
And yet—the plane bucked and Kira caught a whiff of smoke. Akiko cried out. Kira gritted her teeth, a sour feeling of fear in her stomach.
All of the sudden an alarm blared in the plane cabin, and hundreds of oxygen masks fell from the ceiling, bouncing and wriggling on their rubber hoses in front of each person. Smoke clouded the air.
It took Kira a moment to remember what to do with the mask amid all the screaming and panicking. The plane jerked alarmingly. In a moment of bravery, Kira released the armrests to pull the oxygen mask around her head. It smelled like rubber and something that reminded her of doctors, but better than the smoke everywhere.
Sharp coughing drew her attention. Akiko was doubled over, her fingers white on the armrests. Kira pulled her sister upright and fastened the oxygen mask around her face. Akiko panted shallowly as she adjusted to the oxygen flow. The plane jumped beneath them and Kira regained her death grip on the armrests.
A terrible sound urged Kira to look at the cabin ceiling. Astonished, she watched as the ceiling tore away with a scream of metal, luggage compartments and all. Her oxygen mask was ripped away and freezing arctic wind rushed in, faster and faster. Loose papers flew up and out, and Kira saw her airplane blanket disappear as well. She squinted her eyes against the cold and noise. And still the plane jittered and dipped. Why weren't they falling?
Kira forced her eyes open right as a blob as bright as a hundred LED bulbs flashed past her vision.
Whirling around, Kira found an odd sight. The blob appeared to be some electrical storm. It had settled around a woman back a row. She screamed, and Kira blinked against the rushing wind. When she looked again, the woman was gone. Kira gasped a breath of freezing air. Even the woman's seat was missing, just a jagged hole in the floor, where it used to be. Kira turned to Akiko to ask what was going on.
But before she could, the spider of electricity was there. It enveloped her, and her mind was filled with a bright pain, like a thousand headaches at once. Kira didn't have time to scream. The strangest thing was happening, like the electricity was testing her. Memories and images flashed through her mind. It was rummaging around, approving of some, dismissing others.
Then, it was gone. Kira kept her eyes squeezed shut, tears moistening the edges. Her mind hurt and the bright light had left spots dancing beneath her eyelids.
What was happening?
Kira's ears instinctively caught a small gasp among the cacophony in the plane. She recognized her sister immediately. Her eyes flew open to find the skittering electrical storm zipping away from Akiko. Tears streamed from her sister's tightly shut eyes. Her oxygen mask was still around her face, the hose having disappeared when the ceiling was torn away.
Kira panted, her heart racing as fast as the wind around her. It seemed to last for hours—the shouting wind freezing her tears, and the electricity flashing around, darting everywhere. And still the plane shuddered, somehow still flying.
At one point Kira realized that hardly any plane seats remained around her. Akiko was beside her, and a cluster of seats were grouped farther ahead. The spider-like electricity seemed to have vanished.
Where had everyone gone? A deep feeling assured Kira that the electricity had had something to do with their disappearance.
Kira felt the plane drop. Its flight smoothed slightly. She couldn't tell if it was her imagination, but the air seemed to grow warmer. White mist filled the plane. Some sense told Kira that they were nearing the ground. There was a crack from the bottom of the plane, and loud scrapings filled her ears.
Suddenly the plane jolted. Kira and Akiko flew forward, their seat belts barely keeping them from tumbling up the damaged aisle. Akiko squealed and struggled to right herself against the plane's momentum. Crashes and snapping sounds filled to plane, and they seemed to shoot forward forever.
Finally the plane slowed. It came to a rest with the cabin floor tilted haphazardly. Kira and Akiko gasped for breath in the sudden quiet. The last thing she remembered was the plane settling, with a shaky vibration, and the tops of trees and branches visible through the gaping ceiling. Then welcome darkness enveloped Kira.
Congratulations on finishing that!
So I did add a few details, since we don't know a whole lot on the Japanese sisters. Btw, does anyone know why they were on a flight from NY to Japan if they were coming from a Swiss finishing school? Was it just a connecting flight or something?
@Admin Sarah: I'm so sorry you get motion sickness! I thank God so often that I don't have it—I don't know what I would do if I couldn't read in the car. Cross country road trips are an annual thing in my family.