Friday, April 11, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Turbulence (The Trevor's Song Era)
It was the bumps that woke Mitchell. That really sucked; he was exhausted, they were headed home, and he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Except he couldn't sleep while being tossed around like this. He was stuck in this awful state, unable to do a fucking thing.
Across the aisle, Trevor had made a pillow of his denim jacket. He still slept, but then again, when Trevor wasn't acting weird lately, he was sleeping. Having him sleep went over better than trying to deal with his latest round of weird shit. If someone had to sleep, no one minded that it was Trevor doing it.
Daniel gave Mitchell a thin-lipped sort-of smile. "I was wondering when it'd get to you."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Too damn long," he said and shifted in his seat, like his legs were stiff. Mitchell doubted that was the problem; the guy probably wanted off the stupid plane. "The pilot's been on a few times. He's been trying all sorts of different altitudes, but none of them are any good. He made a few noises about turning around, but I guess they wouldn't let him."
Mitchell didn't know how to respond to that. Flying wasn't his thing. At most, it was the way to get from the US to Europe, or maybe from Riverview to New York or wherever the tour was starting. Anything more than that and he was lost.
"I just hope we get there soon," Eric said from Mitchell's other side. He'd pulled down the shade over the little window, which Mitchell didn't understand. Why ask for the window seat if you weren't going to look through the window? At least the views were cool. When you could see more than a cloud, anyway.
"Can you see anything out there?" Mitchell asked.
Just as Eric got his hand on the window shade, the plane bucked.
Eric's hand moved from the shade to the arms of his seat so fast, it was a blur. He grabbed hold -- even though Mitchell already had a good grip on the one they shared -- and turned pale. "Not really, no," he said softly.
Trevor didn't stir.
The plane calmed. Daniel gave Mitchell a weak smile. "Are we there yet?"
"Fuck, I hope so."
How perfect was this? I wrote this last weekend for the Flash Fiction Carnival, but it applies to the Writer's Island and Sunday Scribblings prompts this week, too. Really. Amazing. Smell those changing winds... Ahhh....
If you're new around here, clicking on the links in the fiction will take you back to that person's bio page. From there, you can access a bunch of other fictional posts about that particular character.
And while you're there, check out the free download!
Across the aisle, Trevor had made a pillow of his denim jacket. He still slept, but then again, when Trevor wasn't acting weird lately, he was sleeping. Having him sleep went over better than trying to deal with his latest round of weird shit. If someone had to sleep, no one minded that it was Trevor doing it.
Daniel gave Mitchell a thin-lipped sort-of smile. "I was wondering when it'd get to you."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Too damn long," he said and shifted in his seat, like his legs were stiff. Mitchell doubted that was the problem; the guy probably wanted off the stupid plane. "The pilot's been on a few times. He's been trying all sorts of different altitudes, but none of them are any good. He made a few noises about turning around, but I guess they wouldn't let him."
Mitchell didn't know how to respond to that. Flying wasn't his thing. At most, it was the way to get from the US to Europe, or maybe from Riverview to New York or wherever the tour was starting. Anything more than that and he was lost.
"I just hope we get there soon," Eric said from Mitchell's other side. He'd pulled down the shade over the little window, which Mitchell didn't understand. Why ask for the window seat if you weren't going to look through the window? At least the views were cool. When you could see more than a cloud, anyway.
"Can you see anything out there?" Mitchell asked.
Just as Eric got his hand on the window shade, the plane bucked.
Eric's hand moved from the shade to the arms of his seat so fast, it was a blur. He grabbed hold -- even though Mitchell already had a good grip on the one they shared -- and turned pale. "Not really, no," he said softly.
Trevor didn't stir.
The plane calmed. Daniel gave Mitchell a weak smile. "Are we there yet?"
"Fuck, I hope so."
How perfect was this? I wrote this last weekend for the Flash Fiction Carnival, but it applies to the Writer's Island and Sunday Scribblings prompts this week, too. Really. Amazing. Smell those changing winds... Ahhh....
If you're new around here, clicking on the links in the fiction will take you back to that person's bio page. From there, you can access a bunch of other fictional posts about that particular character.
And while you're there, check out the free download!
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, fiction outtake, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Sunday Scribblings, touring, Trevor, Writer's Island
Comments:
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It sounds as though Trevor is the only fearless one, as he is sleeping through the plane ride that seems to upset the others.
I tried to use the links to the names of your characters, but they didn't work. Am I supposed to do anything other than to click on them?
I tried to use the links to the names of your characters, but they didn't work. Am I supposed to do anything other than to click on them?
Fuck I hope so too! :) I love that they ask if they are there yet! :)
# posted by 
: April 11, 2008 8:15 PM
: April 11, 2008 8:15 PM
*chortling* at "Are we there yet" and the fact that Trevor is able to sleep through all the turbulence. Somehow that doesn't surprise me. :)
# posted by : April 12, 2008 2:46 AM
: April 12, 2008 2:46 AM
Hah! "Are we there yet?" is priceless!
I had to eat dinner through turbulence like that once. It was interesting trying to get anything on your fork while it was busy bouncing out of the tray...
I had to eat dinner through turbulence like that once. It was interesting trying to get anything on your fork while it was busy bouncing out of the tray...
I'm wih Mitchell on the plane turbulence. My hubby is more like Trev... can sleep through anything. Bastards... both of 'em!!
a little off topic but the idea of sitting near the window even if cant see anything makes a lot of sense to me..windows have always been symbolic to me, into outside world, into inside world, into people, into ideas..they just open up a lot of things :)
Hello, Michelle sent me!
Ya...what is it with the people who want window seats closing the window? hmm
Ya...what is it with the people who want window seats closing the window? hmm
Trevor must have drunk an awful lot to sleep through turbulance like that! You can practically feel the air sickness!
Thanks for the well wishes lately :) I sure appreciated it!
Thanks for the well wishes lately :) I sure appreciated it!
Trevor is like the seasoned battle soldier - able to sleep through the not-so-far-off bombing if that's his allotted down time.
I wouldn't make a good groupie if I had to fly, bus sounds better. I envy Trevor's ability to sleep through it.
# posted by : April 15, 2008 11:40 PM
: April 15, 2008 11:40 PM
I hate to fly too! Gives me fits and it's nice to see it affects more than just me.
Good and original idea of using turbulence as 'wind'. I'd have never thought of it.
Seeing the same thing (flying) from all those different viewpoints was interesting.
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Good and original idea of using turbulence as 'wind'. I'd have never thought of it.
Seeing the same thing (flying) from all those different viewpoints was interesting.
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