Altitude: Over 10,000 meters.
An invisible boundary separating the mundane world from the vast expanse of the sky. Up here, airplanes are freed from the shackles of the earth, gliding through the air like shuttles weaving across the universe. He knew that at this height, planes not only traveled faster and consumed less fuel, but also avoided the wrath of nature—the fierce storm clouds and congested aerial traffic.
This altitude also served as a quiet reminder of human fragility. Should any mishap occur, there would be only a few precious minutes to salvage the situation.
After reaching the desired altitude and speed, the aircraft gradually stabilized. The tense atmosphere inside the cabin eased somewhat.
As expected, a familiar female voice broke the silence:
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You are now free to move about the cabin. However, for your safety, we recommend keeping your seatbelt fastened throughout the flight in case of unexpected turbulence.”
John Lennon slowly turned his head toward the lavatory, his gaze wandering idly before rising from his seat. He smoothed out his tailored suit with practiced ease, maintaining an air of calm dignity, and made his way toward the rear.
Now alone, the old man leaned slightly, his gaze drifting out toward the vast sky beyond the window.
“Humanity is truly the finest creation.”
His voice echoed softly in the quiet cabin, a monologue spoken as though to no one, or perhaps, to the universe itself. A subtle smirk flickered across his lips—a fleeting expression of satisfaction, as though he viewed the world from a place far beyond time.
Not long after, John Lennon returned to his seat. Just as he was about to resume their previous conversation, he noticed the old Russian man had already dozed off. His glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, and his breathing was slow and steady, like a gentle lullaby.
“…Guess I’ll leave him be.”
John sighed and pulled a football magazine from his coat pocket, flipping it open in silence as the flight drifted on in stillness.
---
00:37 A.M.
Northern Atlantic Skies — Bermuda Triangle Airspace.
Outside, the night sky was pitch black, like an endless curtain of velvet shrouding the world. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the darkness. Its brilliant flash seemed to freeze the atmosphere itself. In that instant, a strange tremor rippled through the air—an invisible wave spreading like the rings formed by a stone tossed into water. But unlike gentle ripples, these were sinister, like a deathly serpent slithering, waiting for its moment to strike.
He jolted awake. His eyes opened wide, scanning the cabin, dimly lit in the late night.
How long had he been asleep?
But the more immediate concern was his bladder, demanding urgent attention. He rose quietly, carefully stepping past the dozing John Lennon, whose head leaned against the window.
At the rear of the cabin, he removed his glasses and wiped them casually on his sleeve. The steady hum of the engines merged with his soft footsteps, deepening the quiet ambiance. Standing before the lavatory door, he glanced at the cheap wristwatch on his arm—its minute hand ticking slowly. It was nearly 1:00 A.M.
Click.
The latch turned softly as he entered the restroom.
Meanwhile, in stark contrast to the passenger cabin’s serenity, the cockpit was growing tenser by the second. Captain Noureddine slowly put down his pen, eyes locked onto the monitor in front of him. Something strange had flickered across the screen—a brief anomaly, gone in an instant—but it left behind a gnawing unease.
“Just a minor glitch. Signal interference, quickly stabilized. Must be the weather,” said First Officer Butrus, breaking the silence with a forced smile.
Captain Noureddine didn’t reply. His face tightened briefly, then he let out a dry chuckle.
“Let’s hope that’s all it is, Butrus. Otherwise, we might be meeting our Maker sooner than expected.”
He flipped to the next page in his logbook and resumed writing. But Butrus didn’t find the joke funny. He frowned slightly. Words like that—if overheard—could stir unnecessary panic.
“Shall I get you something to drink, Captain?” Butrus offered, attempting to dispel the lingering tension.
“Yes, bring me a cup of coffee,” Noureddine nodded, waving him off.
After double-checking the instrument panels—everything still unnaturally stable—Butrus stepped out of the cockpit. The confined space was now filled with the soft rustle of the captain’s pen and the consistent drone of the engines, a rhythm like a heartbeat echoing into the boundless void.
But the fragile peace wouldn’t last.
Moments after Butrus disappeared from view, the worst struck—sudden, brutal, and beyond imagination.
Yrii——!!!
A scream tore through the air.
All electronics went dead.
Every signal vanished without a trace.
Autopilot disengaged. The flight path erased from the monitor as if deleted by an unseen force.
Alarms wailed in a maddening chorus.
The entire aircraft jolted violently, bucking like a wounded beast.
Captain Noureddine’s face drained of color. He lunged for manual control before the massive plane lost total stability. His hands trembled as he gripped the yoke, fighting the gravitational pull dragging the aircraft downward.
The screech of the alarms shattered any lingering hope of a smooth flight.
Butrus burst back into the cockpit, flinging himself into his seat and grabbing his headset.
“What the hell is going on, Captain?!”
“System failure! Damn it all—the digital systems are dead… completely unresponsive!” Noureddine shouted, straining to keep control.
“Butrus, try to contact air traffic control. Do it now!”
“Sir… the radio is silent! No signal!” Butrus stammered, fear spreading through every fiber of his being.
“Doesn’t matter! Engines are still running. I’ll keep her airborne. First, shut off that goddamn alarm!”
“Y-Yes, sir!” Butrus fumbled with the controls, silencing the blaring noise. But silence brought no comfort—only dread.
No coordinates. No direction.
The plane was now a lost bird floundering in the boundless sky.
If this continued, an emergency landing—risky and possibly fatal—was inevitable.
“Butrus, restart the whole system. I’m not letting this flight end at the bottom of the ocean.”
Noureddine’s voice grew low, grim determination sharpening every syllable. He pushed fear aside, focusing solely on survival. Now, more than ever, he couldn’t afford to falter.
Since leaving the ground, the aircraft had flown above treacherous waters—right over the Bermuda Triangle, infamous for swallowing ships and planes without a trace.
Unless absolutely necessary—like engine failure—Noureddine refused to land this plane on the ocean.
A water landing was the ultimate nightmare.
The survival rate was near zero.
The plane would likely shatter upon impact, possibly igniting into a fiery explosion.
Water crushed everything.
In ten emergency sea landings, eight or nine ended with the aircraft torn apart before passengers could reach the exits.
Either sinking like an iron coffin or bursting into flames.
Even if they miraculously landed intact, they'd only have a faint hope. Perhaps in one or two days, rescue teams might find them with limited rations and life rafts.
But if they landed in the sea, just minutes after impact, everything would be swallowed by eternal darkness. That’s why flight attendants had to sever the rafts from the plane immediately—if not, it would drag everyone down.
As Butrus fought with dead wires and inert panels, trying to restart the lifeless systems tied to radar and radio, Chief Flight Attendant Mosi burst into the cockpit, her face pale with panic.
“Captain, the passengers are in a state of chaos! They want to know why the plane is shaking so violently!”
Not just the passengers—she herself longed for an answer.
“Mosi,” Noureddine spoke without turning, eyes glued to the soulless numbers on the screen. “I’m afraid you won’t like what you’re about to hear. Brace yourself for the worst.”
His back was drenched in sweat—cold and sharp like ice.
All he could do now was pray for even the weakest signal to break through the silence.
“Should I… Should I inform the passengers, Captain?” Mosi asked, voice trembling.
“Yes. They deserve to know the truth. We’ve lost contact with control. The navigation system is down. If this continues, we may be forced to land on the ocean. Help me ensure everyone is prepared.”
“Y-Yes… right away…” Mosi stammered, her heart squeezed by fear.
She wanted to say something more—but her throat closed up, body frozen in place.
Because the space around the three of them had begun to warp—twisting and distorting in unnatural ways.
From that moment on, even the slim chance of a sea landing was slipping from their grasp.
Fate was descending upon them—swift and merciless, more terrifying than any storm.
In that moment, reality itself unraveled.
The world shattered like fragile glass, giving way to a strange, alien darkness.
No longer was it the familiar scene.
The ocean that should’ve been beneath them had vanished.
All that remained was a void—eerily silent, suffocating, as though it were breathing.
Above, where the sky should be, lightning slithered in all directions—forming a monstrous web.
It flickered with a ghostly silver light, like blades of death dancing across a monstrous sky.
Each strike fell into the blackness below, like a heartbeat of doom, sending chills down the spine despite the absence of cold.
Every passing second echoed with some distant, invisible roar—drowning their senses.
They shivered, unable to stop.
The only sound left was the ear-splitting roar of destruction, a thunder that shattered the very fabric of existence.
It all felt like a dream.
No…
In their hearts, they desperately wished it was a nightmare.
A nightmare they would soon wake from.
But alas…
The nightmare had become reality.
And there was no escape.
Please log in to leave a comment.