Phantom

• Shaanvi Swamy, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2022

I remained motionless, gazing blankly into the perils and wonders of a vast, unfathomable sky. Under the massive metal beast, black rivers roared, leaving a gushing path of foam borne into the sea. Many heartbeats had passed since the plane had been flying through depths of darkness. The world was ghost-quiet except for the rusty rumbling of the engine and the gentle snoring of passengers.

I realised I was waiting for whatever horrors I was forced to face. The rhythm of flight was erratic. The clouds had become an interminable tunnel. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I was seized by the heavy stench of death. Aghast by the scene I grabbed the seat in front, shrieking wild songs of dread. A young girl rushed past, frantically attempting to reclaim control of the plane. She whipped her head, startled by the noise, and soon she too was screaming at the top of her lungs.

My fatigued eyes lazily rolled towards a lingering cloud, just a few metres away from me. I sunk deeper into my seat, ready to surrender and be swallowed by the blanket of fluffy wetness. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the worst.

Light flashed. It raked its destructive finger. Blaring filled my head and furious lights glared. The plane shook violently and tumbled into the endless sea of storm clouds. The vehemence of life thrashed in my chest, gradually getting louder until I could hear every thump. Metal groaned under my feet. Unease slithered down my spine. But it was too late. Disaster struck.

The ground disappeared from my feet as I rapidly plummeted into endless nothingness. I wanted to cry but my voice had been stolen before it even left my mouth. Everything was blurred, a shattered mirror reflecting a million shades. A sudden chill pierced my skin like armies of miniature daggers. Thump…

I sat up groggily and wiped at my face with a clammy hand. Walls of discarded metal loomed over me. I placed a hand down, the same warm seat met my fingertips, except it was soaked, turning it into a revolting shade of crimson. A river of blood flowed down from a sickeningly, recognizable face. My blood turned to ice. It was me. The same dull ash eyes, distant and miserable, bathed in soot. My body was limp and lifeless, the familiarity almost too much to bear. How could I be glad to be alive when I was meant to be dead!?

Rays of blinding, dappled light leaked through the holes. Wearily, I pushed through, listening to the sound of clattering tin. A hand lay in the dim light. A pair of clear eyes blinked. It was her. My heart leapt into my throat. Our gazes locked. It was as if time itself froze for us. Her eyes were a crystallic amethyst so clear that I could see myself. The world turned upside down, her gentle lavender eyes slipping away into the grasp of the night.