“Oh my God!”
Noureddine cried out, his hands instinctively slipping off the controls. His eyes went blank as terror seized his mind, sweeping away all the skills and composure of a seasoned pilot.
The same horrifying sight quickly engulfed the passenger cabin, spreading fear across the faces that had only just awakened from peaceful slumber.
Now, they wished they had never opened their eyes.
Outside the tiny windows, the world was in chaos—nature’s fury unleashed. And bit by bit, their souls felt torn from their bodies, leaving only empty husks behind.
Everyone froze, speechless before the sheer horror.
But that dreadful silence didn’t last long. It shattered, giving way to a frenzied symphony of chaos.
“Ahhh—!!! Someone tell me what the hell is happening to this world!!!”
“Dear God, please let us return in peace!!! Please, I beg You!!!”
“Where’s the flight crew?! Where the hell did they go?! What are they doing?!”
“No! We’re going to die! We’re all going to die here! Please, no!!! Don’t let this happen!!!”
“This is hell! No—this is hell!!! We’ve been banished to hell!!!”
Broken, overlapping voices rose like discordant notes, creating a disturbing cacophony that destroyed all sense of order. From the cramped economy class to the luxurious business section, every passenger lost their minds, writhing in panic. The aircraft had become a flying madhouse, hurtling toward an unknown abyss.
The cabin now felt tighter, more suffocating than ever. Screams, arguments, and chaos flared up like wildfire, threatening to consume what little hope remained.
The flight attendants sprang into action, trying their best to soothe the terrified passengers with calm, reassuring words. But all they got in return were suspicious glares, ignored pleas, and angry outbursts. Their voices were nothing more than meaningless echoes lost in a storm.
With no other choice, an emergency report was sent straight to Mosi, the head flight attendant. Having left the cockpit only minutes before, she fully grasped the gravity of the situation. Upon hearing the report, she rushed to the cabin. She knew that gentle words would no longer work—it was time for firm action.
Standing tall in the aisle, Mosi took a deep breath and shouted:
“Silence!!! Everyone, shut up and listen to me!!!”
Her voice tore through the chaos like a blade. The screaming began to die down, a chain reaction spreading through the crowd. The heavy atmosphere returned to silence—except for panicked breathing and eyes filled with fear, all fixed on her.
Without wasting a second, Mosi continued in a loud, clear voice:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm! Our aircraft is built to withstand lightning strikes without endangering passengers or crew. The cabin’s shell is electrically insulated and safely grounded. There is nothing to be afraid of!”
But those words weren’t enough to soothe the fear deeply embedded in everyone’s hearts.
“Then why won’t my phone work?!” a passenger shouted from the back.
“Yeah! My watch is dead too! How do you explain that?!”
Questions shot at her like arrows. Sweat formed on Mosi’s back, but her gaze remained firm. She knew she had to stay composed—she was their only anchor right now.
“T-this…” Mosi faltered for a moment. She knew lightning sometimes struck planes mid-flight, but it rarely disrupted electronics. Yet now, every single device had shut down—a phenomenon even she couldn’t explain.
Suddenly, a passenger whispered just loud enough for all to hear:
“I think… we’re stuck in another dimension. A place where time doesn’t exist.”
That strange idea was like a spark thrown into oil. Some passengers began nodding, desperately latching onto the theory as a psychological lifeline.
Seizing the moment, Mosi raised her voice again:
“Then the only thing that matters now is that everyone returns to their seats and fastens their seatbelts. Be ready for anything. Please follow my instructions!”
Though fear still lingered, no one dared object. Slowly, passengers began retreating to their seats, casting anxious glances out the windows. Trembling fingers fumbled for seatbelts, while lips whispered desperate prayers.
Time crawled like torture. Each second stretched into eternity as their eyes remained fixed on the terrifying scene outside. Bolts of lightning slashed through the sky like death’s blades stabbing into the night.
Would they be trapped here forever?
The lightning—though terrifying—was not the true enemy. The greater fear was running out of fuel before finding a way out. That was the nightmare that loomed larger than death.
Inside the cockpit, Captain Noureddine and First Officer Butrus dared not think of the future. All they could do was keep the plane stable, pushing forward through the storm of death. The pressure on their shoulders was as heavy as a hundred tons of steel. Every ticking second felt like sweat dripping from their backs as their hearts fought against fate.
Hope—fragile and fading—was all that remained.
And while everyone else was drowning in fear, he, the strangest man on the flight, remained bizarrely calm. At some point, he had grabbed a bottle of whisky, sipping it slowly with an unreadable expression. Strangely, in this moment so close to death, he found it the perfect time to enjoy a fine drink.
Screams, lightning, the dance of death outside the window—it all became background music to him. He thought to himself: If only there were piano playing in the background, it would be perfect.
Then a deafening sound ripped through the sky.
BOOM!!!
He flinched. Still holding the whisky bottle, his eyes turned to the window just in time to see the plane’s left wing explode. More precisely, the engine on that wing had erupted, its metal fragments scattering like shrapnel, black smoke billowing into the sky.
It was a moment both horrifying and surreal—like a scene from a movie or a nightmare. But he wasn’t surprised. What he saw was merely the result of the plane being struck by the unnatural lightning outside.
What the passengers didn’t know was that the aircraft had been struck multiple times. Those earlier bolts didn’t miraculously pass over them. They had pierced through the nose, fuselage, and tail before exiting thanks to the aircraft’s Faraday cage-like shell. The flashes they saw were not harmless—they were omens. But this time, the lightning ignored all physical laws, and now the engine had finally given in.
As the left engine exploded, the plane sharply tilted. The whisky bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
Screams erupted throughout the cabin like wild beasts being hunted. Fear reached its peak. Amid the chaos, John Lennon—the man who had once seemed calm and composed—was now a ghost of himself, clutching his head, eyes bloodshot. His face twisted in panic, like a madman on the edge between life and death.
In the cockpit, Captain Noureddine nearly despaired as they lost all thrust on the left side. He strained with every muscle to hold the control yoke, struggling to keep the aircraft from nosediving. But he knew—it was like steering a sinking ship in a hurricane. Altitude dropped from 10,000 meters… to 8,000… then 2,000. Smoke from the burning engine painted a trail of death behind them.
They were going to crash.
Fate had spoken. And the thought that no one would ever find them at the edge of this distorted world only made it worse. But just as despair consumed them all like a shroud, a miracle appeared.
Ahead, through the monstrous storm, another sky emerged.
It was the outside world.
The night sky—calm and starless—waited beyond, with dense forests visible far below. It was the exit, a clear divide between the hell they’d been trapped in and peaceful reality. But hope hadn’t fully bloomed. The plane was still spiraling downward, out of control.
VREEEEEEE—!!!
The aircraft’s shriek tore through the air, blending with the monstrous groaning of engines. The metal beast plummeted from the heavens, creating a hellish roar.
The cockpit shook violently, filled with rattling and grinding. Noureddine locked his arms, pulling back on the controls with all his strength, trying to raise the nose and stop the roll. It was a battle of survival—a brutal tug-of-war between man and destiny.
Altitude kept dropping, meter by meter.
Still, the plane endured—if only barely.
At this point, it was no longer a sophisticated machine. It was a paper bird, hurled from the eye of the storm, desperately clinging to the last thread of existence.
The landing gear dropped, though it felt meaningless.
Then came a thunderous crash.
The impact split the earth, shattering the landing gear into pieces. The plane veered sharply to one side, and a terrifying series of cracks echoed through the night. The wing struck a line of ancient trees and was instantly torn apart—shredded into fragments that flew like deadly blades.
Bloodcurdling screams from the cabin rang out, only to be drowned by the grinding of metal. In that final moment, they may have felt the true cruelty of fate—the helplessness in the face of destruction.
And then… it ended.
A monstrous scar ripped through the forest, trees uprooted, earth flung into the sky—marking the path of the plane’s demise. The fuselage broke into three massive pieces, lying scattered in the ruins.
No cries for help. No resistance.
In an instant, the crushing force of the crash claimed everything.
Not a single soul aboard survived.
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