[firebreathingfishies]

This is my first attempt at a 1st person kind of thing and I was bloody shocked at how hard it is I couldn't think of anything to write about... so POV of the crash it is lol. I'm not doing loads of this because I find the style quite difficult, but I'd appreciate some thoughts on how to improve this style because I've seen that a few people are pretty good at it And I want to be good at it too

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1- Green Eyes

I’ve never particularly had a problem with flying, but then again I haven’t had enough experience to determine whether or not it scares the **** out of me. This is my second flight in two weeks, and also the second flight of my life. Okay, maybe not my whole life, but the part of my life where I’d actually be aware of imminent death if we were plummeting to the ground. Before I boarded the plane for the first time fourteen days ago, my mind was elsewhere. I guessed after take off I’d close my eyes for a few hours and before I knew it we would have touched down on the scalding runaway in Sydney, Australia and all would be fine. But when the plane lurched and forced itself up into the air – a place where a giant hunk of metal was never supposed to be in the first place – I could feel the first dregs of panic rising up in my chest. I cursed at every bump, every rock, and every announcement of turbulence from the pilot. After an hour I had decided flying was definitely not for me.

The second time round it wasn’t so bad, but I still gripped the armrests of my seat, digging my nails in the softy plastic despite the fact it was starting to hurt quite a bit now. My ears were clogged with the relatively soothing sounds of Coldplay, however they were starting to play on my already frayed nerves. I knew for a fact the rest of my CDs would do the same, and I couldn’t bring myself to travel in silence, so I put up with it.

I’m currently seated in a centre row, two seats away from the aisle. The row is empty apart from a man with floppy blonde hair and black-rimmed glasses sitting a seat away from me. Even while I stared intently at the seat in front (and while Chris Martin told me all of us are done for) I can see him casting the odd glance in my direction. After half an hour of it, it’s beginning to get on my nerves. It wasn’t like it never happened; being young and relatively pretty I did sometimes gain unwanted attention, but right now and in such close quarters, I can feel my temper rising. Before I can gather myself up, I pull one earphone out and turn to the man, catching him in mid-glance.

‘Can you stop that?’ I ask quite sharply.

The man blinks green eyes at me, obviously surprised. I instantly feel stupid, and know I’d attracted glances from others. His bewilderment passes quickly and he smiles quite broadly, actually dazzling me for a split second.

‘Sorry,’ he replies in an American accent. ‘I’m just wonderin’ to myself how much longer those armrests of yours are gonna last.’

I blink twice, and then glance down at the armrests. My fingers are white with the pressure. I instantly relax and put my hands in my lap. I have left ten little half-moon shapes in the soft plastic. I glance back to the man once, trying to look defiant even though I have no idea what I’m really trying to prove, and replace my earphone. I look ahead again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him chuckling.

That cheeky sod. Fair enough he might be bored as hell but he didn’t have to laugh at me. I can feel my cheeks flushing and I hope to hell they’re not as red as they felt. But they are. One thing about having very fair skin is that when you turn red, you turn red.

I feel a prodding in my arm and I turn to him, my eyebrows drawn together mostly in embarrassment. I take both of my earphones out this time.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you, miss.’ Green-eyes smiles politely. ‘You see, I didn’t bring any music and I’ve read my magazine about ten times now. I didn’t mean to stare, I’m just bored. I’m sorry.’

I feel my annoyance subsiding. I’m overreacting. Hell, I have a damn good excuse. Every time I close my eyes I can see the plane hurtling down to the ground. Paranoid people tend to get a little tetchy.

‘It’s okay.’ I reply. I can’t think of anything else to add, so I just shrug.

‘I get it you know.’ Green-eyes grins, sitting back. ‘I used to be a nervous flyer too. That was before I had to fly every fortnight. I’m guessing it’s your fourth flight, maybe?’

I clear my throat and glance around. The other passengers are minding their own business. No one was paying attention to our conversation. And a good thing too. I can’t say I particularly enjoy a bunch of strangers listening into my business. ‘Second.’ I reply. ‘I flew here and… Now I’m flying out.’

The man laughs. ‘Second? Really? Wow. No the wonder you’re gougin’ holes in your seat.’ He looks at me for a moment, and then holds out a hand. ‘I’m Chuck. Chuck Norton.’

I half smile. Why do Americans have stupid names like Chuck? And Dwayne? I shook his hand, relaxing a little and allowing my annoyance to subside. ‘For a minute there I thought you were going to say Chuck Norris.’

Chuck laughs and I notice briefly how handsome he is. I let that thought pass quickly. ‘You’re not the first person to come out with that you know.’

I smile a little easier, actually feeling more comfortable. Somewhere in my mind I’m wondering why I had snapped at him so in the first place. So what if I’m a nervous flyer? That didn’t give me the sudden excuse to be a complete arsehole.

‘I’m Ashley.’ I smile. I have no intention of telling him my surname. I might feel a little more at ease, but I’m not quite ready to tell him my life story.

‘Any reason for breaking your flight virginity to go to Australia?’ Chuck asks, leaning back in his seat and clasping his hands. ‘And you don’t sound like you’re from LA either. Which makes me think you’re telling a little white lie about this being your second flight.’

I smile, amused. ‘I flew to America when I was three.’ I reply, not going into any more detail. ‘I can’t remember it so I kind of don’t count it.’

‘Fair enough I suppose.’ Chuck nods and shrugs. ‘There’s nothing to worry about y’know. You’ve got more chance of being knocked over than crashing in an airplane.’

The plane shudders and I find myself gripping the armrests again. The cabin settles once more and the seatbelt lights turn on. Of course, mine is already fastened.

‘Then you’re going to laugh when I tell you I’ve already been knocked over.’ I say.

As expected, he laughs, and he makes me smile. I’m actually glad I snapped at him now. If I hadn’t we probably wouldn’t be talking and I’d still be working my way to having a heart attack. I decide while he’s still laughing that he’s a damned attractive man and the immature part of me hopes he wasn’t just watching my fingernails digging into the armrests.

‘Well that was my only line for reassuring nervous flyers.’ Chuck tells me.

‘Ah, so you do this a lot then?’ I narrow one eye but can’t help the smirk. ‘Telling strangers they have more chance of being ran over?’

‘Sometimes. But most of them are middle aged businessmen, or overweight housewives.’ He winks. ‘None as pretty as you.’

I blush. I’ve never been one for openly flirting like that. I get bumbling and I start to stutter. Why? Well, because I’m a geek. I wonder if Chuck has noticed my alien pendant on my black cord necklace yet. I put my hand over it, suddenly embarrassed at its presence. Every now and then I have moments of clarity like this one, and I realise how much of a loser I really am.

I start to mutter ‘thanks’ but the plane dips again, this time a little harder. A couple of people, including myself, cry out in surprise. Chuck’s smile disappears momentarily and he grabs his own armrests. He sees that I saw and laughs again.

‘I guess I’m not as confident as I make out, hu-’

He is cut off when the plane dips again, this time even worse. I feel my stomach heave and I groan, really feeling like I’m going to be sick. The lights flicker on and off and the cabin begins to shake. I can hear the luggage in the overhead compartment moving around. But more alarming, I can hear the engines struggling to stay alive. The PA attempts to come on, but all that escapes from the speakers is whining feedback. I hope… no, I beg that this will pass. I dig my fingers into the armrest and squeeze me eyes shut. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I don’t believe this is happening. Not now. Not on my second damn flight. Okay, third…

There’s a strange, light unravelling sound around me followed by shrieks and screams. I open my eyes automatically, and the object I had been dreading since boarding swung in my face. I can’t do anything else but stare at it. This can’t be happening.

‘Ashley!’ It’s Chuck. ‘Get your mask on!’

I turn my head and look at him, but that is the most I can manage. I’m paralysed. My fingers refuse to budge from the armrest. Chuck’s huge green eyes stare at me from over the top of his own mask. He shudders… well, it’s my vision that is shuddering, caused by the increasing violent behaviour of the plane. My brain screams at me to put the mask on, but all I can do is stare stupidly at Chuck. I continued to ogle at him as he pulls off his own mask, unfastens his belt and moves into the seat next to me. He struggles to fasten his new belt and then puts my mask on my face, not trying to be gentle. He pulls my hair a few times but I don’t feel it. I continue to stare as the screams grow louder. A sound briefly drowns them out – the sound of curling, tearing metal. Chuck struggles to get his own mask on as the tearing sound hits its peak. I find it easy to tear my eyes away from Chuck now. I look ahead to see the front end of the plane breaking off. I squeak. It’s the closest thing to a scream I’m capable of. I feel a warm hand grab my own and I snap my head back around to Chuck.

Those green eyes stare at me. He squeezes my hand tightly. I squeeze it back and then we both close our eyes.