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My Worst Nightmare

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“Ma’am, would you like a blanket or pillow?” I shut my eyes and nod to the flight attendant in the Ralph Lauren-inspired suit. “Preferably cashmere, and goose-feather,” I tell her. Oh, the luxuries of first class. This is how I’ve lived my whole life, as Miss Claire Roeway, perfect student, daughter, debutante, perfect everything. My blond hair and blue-eyed look fits right in with my perfect life. But today, that all changes. Today I leave my perfect New York life, for the very imperfect life in Los Angeles.

The attendant brings back my pillow and blanked and I thank her, with perfect manners. I remind myself of my new imperfect life. I sigh and smile and my nightmare is tearing though my mind. The face, the dark eyes, the mask, the cackling laughter… A man with tanned skin sits next to me. He turns to me in his black Calvin Klein business suit and says “Hello, pleased to meet you. My name is Carl Egard.” He sticks out his callused hand to shake mine and our eyes meet. His deep brown eyes are the sort of which you could be lost in. I get lost in the wrong place. My nightmare… I recognize these eyes from my nightmare.

He slowly lowers his hand, mutters quietly to himself and settles in to the comfy, leather seats. I lean over and smile shyly. “Claire Roeway,” I whisper. He smirks and turns his head away from me. The pilot announces take off will be beginning. I feel the plane slowly start directing itself to the correct runway. It’s going faster and faster, the zooming ringing in my ears, and suddenly I feels light as air as the wheels disconnect from the asphalt. I settle into my seat for a little snooze.

I wake up about fifteen minutes later to the sound of the seatbelt light clicking off. “You may now use the restrooms at the front and rear of the plane.” I pick up a new, glossy issue of PEOPLE, when the man next to me stands up. I feel a sudden rush of deja v?. I look up and there are the eyes. I look at his hands and they hold two familiar guns. Guns I’ve seen in my nightmare. He yells in a stern, raspy voice, “Get on the floor and don’t talk!” Random screams erupt resulting in a shrill whistle from the man. The large man across the aisle is squeezing between the seats, down to the floor, silently praying with his eyes closed. Two more sets of brown eyes bust through the curtain divider. They speak in a different language.

The first man disappears and his voice comes over the intercom. “Everyone will remain on the floor. Any who disobey or try to contact anyone will be punished. An example, perhaps?” His voice reminds me of the Joker. A man carries out our pilot, dead, in his arms. The blond lady behind me screams and passes out.

“Hold on tight.” The voice starts to laugh hysterically. The plane abruptly nose dives. There are gasps, whispers of goodbyes, and whimpering all around us. We all know there is a slim chance of survival. It settles over me that I will never have my imperfect life, my second chance. I say goodbye to the long list of people in my head. Mom, Dad, my sister Daphne, my best friend Kara, and my dog Zeus. This is the end. I can feel it. I think of L.A. I start to silently cry as we go through bumpy turbulence.

I feel contact with the ground. My life flashes before my eyes and all the things that are important to me. I feel the blow of the impact all around me. The laughing stops and its replaced by an explosion. Everything goes black. My worst nightmare, comes true.





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