Young Writers Society

It hadn't exactly been the most normal of flights. It had been odd, there was no question about it... but nothing too out there. The complimentary juice had been peppier than usual, and the lady in front of Charly had been overly enthusiastic about him sitting behind her- super talkative gal. But nothing strange enough happened that made him think that something was wrong. Nothing made him wonder if everything was going as the pilot planned.

It was quite strange really, one minute Charly was sipping orange juice and wondering where all the pulp was, the next thing his juice was in his face and they were experiencing some of the most violent turbulence that he'd ever encountered.

Charly's arms bounced up and down on the arm rests before he could even think to hold onto something. The lady in front of him was emanated high pitched sound that didn't seem humanly possible, and Charly had completely lost track of his cup that was no longer filled with orange juice. Things didn't exactly slow down in the moment, as people often report after such instances, but everything seemed almost hysterically unrealistic to Charly, as though he was inside a television set, instead of in his own life.

When the plane tilted forward and seemed to speed up, headed straight for the earth, that's when it hit him that this wasn't fake. "I'm going to die" Charly said aloud, but no one cared, if they heard him, to reply. Everyone else was too busy screaming or clutching onto anything they could get a hold of for dear life. Charly was only twenty four and had been flying back from university to spend time with family over the summer.

As the plane continued to plummet downward, Charly noticed himself getting lighter and lighter. So much so that he felt as though he were floating or hovering over his seat- even just slightly. He was so transfixed on this sensation that he honestly nearly forgot his situation, and simply marveled at the sensation he was experiencing.

Suddenly everything went still. Charly couldn't hear anything besides a faint humming or buzzing that filled his ears. It was confusing though since he could see people's faces deformed by their screams and yelling, and everything in the plane rattling about. The humming grew louder, and Charly's vision began to blur- purple lights lit up his peripheral, fuzzing the corners of his sight. He rubbed his eyes with a hand, trying to shake the sensation, but his sight continued to decrease and the purple lights grew across his eyes crowding his vision more and more until he couldn't see anything but shadows and light.

If it was possible, the lack of sight made Charly panic even more than when he'd thought the plane was crashing But without being able to hear or see, Charly could only feel the brutal twisted and tumbles that the plane made on it's decent to earth. And soon, even that went away. He couldn't feel, see, hear, or even smell anything besides the buzz and the ever so present feeling of floating.

And then, just as fast as his senses left him, they flooded back. First a tingly sensation washed over him, and then he was instantly blinded by a light flashing in his face. His hands fumbled on the grimy carpeted floor of the plane. The light kept flashing as he rose to his feet. They weren't in the air anymore, that much he was sure of. Everything was still, quiet even. But something was off. Charly was in the cock pit and the door to the cabin was shut. Hit headed ached like it had never ached before, and his heart was pounding so hard he thought it might stop. His first thought was not 'is anyone okay?' to his horror, really, his first thought was 'I crashed this plane?' But he couldn't have, could he? He hadn't even been flying the plane. Charly put a hand to his head, and that's when reality sunk in and he pushed open the cabin door expecting to see the most gruesome, tragic scene- hoping to find anyone that might have survived with him. But the sight that greeted him was possibly even more disturbing still. Charly's jaw dropped and he just stared. And stared. And stared. Several minutes passed.

In front of him, each seat that had been filled- and most of them had -was all but completely empty. No sign of the lady that chatted him up only minutes before, no sign of any of his fellow passengers, or the stewardesses. In fact, there wasn't even any sign of people at all- no smarties on the floor, or loose baggage strewn about... no wayward tissues or boarding passes, or even Charly's plastic cup that he'd been drinking juice out of not so long ago.

Charly shuddered- a shiver starting at the base of his skull and working it's way down his spine all the way to his fingertips and toes. He didn't know what to think, what to do. He didn't know even if he was a dream or if this was all really happening to him. All he could do was walk up and down the rows of seats and be in awe of their emptiness. He checked the cock pit, and sure enough; no pilot or co-pilot. Had they forgot him there? Had it been not as bad of a landing and everyone was okay and they'd all gotten up and left? Had he been the only one that had been... knocked out? And had everyone just up and left and some how they didn't see Charly unconscious on the floor? Nothing seemed to make sense, and thinking about it was making his head hurt even more. Finally he decided to do what he'd been dreading doing since he'd realized that he was all alone. He made his way to one of the exists and yanked hard on the lever that specifically said 'in the event of emergency'. Which, Charly figured, although it wasn't particularly an emergency right this second, it was right after an emergency and so it made sense. And then he laughed at his own reasoning in the situation, and thought to get his head checked out when he got home.

Cut off from the rest of the world, Sal adjusted her headphones. There was a stiff breeze that reddened her nose and made her eyes water, but she didn't seem to notice. Sal gazed up at the sky scrappers and tried to keep to herself amongst the bustling strangers, making their way to various destinations. They seemed to know exactly where they were going- as though they didn't even have to but thought into which intersection to cross or which street was which. They didn't even really seem to look where they were going. Something in Sal's gut twinged, and she tried to push it down. This was nothing like she had expected. Nothing at all. She knew it would be loud and busy, but she hadn't realized just how many people there would be, and how hard it would be to wade through them all.

Sal sucked in a bunch of air and then head in in her cheeks, puffing them up and then slowly releasing the air. She glanced back a moment, wondering if she'd made it to the right place. When she'd been accepted to The Iron City University, or ICU, she had thought it would be only one building... But looking at the area she came to the realization that in fact there were multiple buildings, and she didn't have a clue which one she was supposed to be in.

She decided to pick one at random, and then ask a receptionist or something for directions. The building closest to her seemed appropriate. But there was one off to the side that intrigued Sal. It was smaller than you'd expect a campus building to be, and it almost looked rusty, which reminded Sal of antiques and polyrods and other old things. Besides, she was early, so she figured it was fine to satisfy a little curiosity. So she made her way over to the building, and opened the door. At first she almost felt like she was intruding, like it was someone's house or something. But she reminded herself that it was a public building and that she was just going in to ask for directions. When she entered, there was an antique sofa with clawed feet and a teal velvety material covering it's surface. That was the first thing that caught her attention because it was exactly the sort of thing that she was hoping would be in there. And then she noticed the reception desk, if you could even call it that. Really, all it was was a little desk that you might have in a bedroom for writing letters- if it was back in the ancient days. And behind the desk was a bar stool that was obviously too tall a seat for behind that desk.

Sal took a step further in the building and closed the door. She wasn't usually the type of person to snoop, but she'd done a lot of things out of character today including flying, moving to a huge city, navigating a huge city, using public transit- instead of the private transit service of mum and dad- and all of those things, as silly as it may sound, terrified her beyond belief. So at this point, really, a little snooping couldn't hurt. And really, she just wanted to see who was in there- so they could help her -or so she told herself.

She thought about calling out, she even looked for a service bell, but it was too eerily quiet in there- even if she had found a bell she wouldn't have wrung it simply because it would have been a crime to have disturbed the silence. And what presence silence it was after a five hour flight that just so happened to have a fussy baby on board, and after all the crazy noisy city streets and listening to strangers chatting- the silence was the most welcome thing. Even if it did make the hair on the back of her neck sit up ever so slightly.

She took a few steps gingerly down a hall to the right of the desk and was hit with a overpowering smell that tingled in her nostrils. There was cinnamon mixed with an odd tang and sour-ish tone, and something vaguely fruity. It was like the scents were competing to be the dominant smell in the room. An odd sort of calm washed over Sal, as though she was walking in her home where'd she'd grown up in Sweed Dale- something baking in the oven, and a distant feeling of people somewhere, but nowhere to be seen in sight.

At the end of the hall were two doors and a stairwell leading to another story. Both doors were shut, and something seemed off about them, something that Sal couldn't put her finger on. They just seemed off. Sal pressed a hand to her head which had begun to ache. She was contemplating opening one when she came to herself- realizing that 1. she didn't have much more time before her first class, and 2. she realized what she was doing. She hated snoopers and she was being no better than one right now.

The floor boards squeaked as she dashed out of the building, and even when she thought she heard a faint hello? she didn't slow down.

She didn't know what to think of that building... it had a homie vibe, it was cozy in a sense, and she was insanely curious about what was behind those doors. But something told her it was best to never ever ever step foot in that place again. Her instincts were screaming it, in fact. But another part of her yearned to turn the knobs of those doors, and get lost in those rooms. And something inside herself told her- whispered, even -that she'd definitely going in that building again. Part of her told herself that there was absolutely nothing that could keep her away from those doors. That raw truth scared Sal, as she'd never experienced it before in her life.