Facing Fears

• Matt Anderson, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

Tristan’s stomach lurched as he rocketed along the ground, the firm seatbelt digging into his hip. His arms thrashing as he groped the air finally grasping the arm rest of the seat and straightening himself back into place. The wind whipped around his face, shaping his hair into strange, uncontrollable positions. His arms were straining to hold him in place and he thought that he would slip back into the flailing state that he would struggle to recover from. As his fingertips slipped from their grasp he was greeted by a strange sense of ease and the pressure was released from his body. Tristan has survived the take-off however the ordeal was not yet over.
Tristan released the tension from his body and observed his surroundings. Four other passengers with their accompanying instructors sat opposing him, all seemingly undeterred by the horror they had just faced. He squashed his nose up against the glass of the small window beside his head, staring in wonder at the rolling fields and criss-crossing paddocks of sorghum dropping away beneath him. Settling back into his seat he turned to his mother sitting adjacent to him with a look of pride on his face, he had passed the first test.
For years on end the fear of flying had tormented Tristan. The Williamsons, being a family of aviators were constantly enjoying the fruits of flight – yet without their son. He refused to be engaged in such a terrifying experience and often pursued in more enlightening activities. This confused his parents with a long history of family in the business it was almost tradition the Tristan went into airplanes yet all good things come to an end. Finally after years of allowing their son the freedom of choice, a plane flight was booked and he was going to get this sorted out once and for all.
Once passing through the take-off Tristan carried a sense of pride and at first he was undeterred by the task that lay ahead. However as the altimeter grew higher and his instructor began tightening the straps around his waist the nerves grew. His legs began to shake and he gnawed at the remaining slivers of nails on his fingers. He looked pleading at his mum, trying to shout over the wind yet it was no use. He was going to have to go through with it. His instructor yelled something in his ear but it was lost in the swirling room and the pounding of blood in Tristan’s head. He glanced up at the lights and breathed in deeply. The lights turned green and the doors at the back of the plane flung open revealing the ground 3,500 feet below. More words were shouted and before he could oppose, return to his chair and stop the lunacy he was flung out of the plane and into the open air...