Road of barbed wire

The golden watch... somehow things were pushed along by mere suggestions that Sophia couldn't push away from her mind, even if the murmurings, the slight rumblings, the whispers below the surface of the skin... heard as plain as day by one ear resting against a pillow. The watch was a ghost, more than the lump of gold that weighted her left pocket noticeably. Her hand was always on it if she had to use the Little Girl's Room lest someone reach their hand in, searching for Saint Mary's Cathedral and finding a valuable watch instead. Her seat on this Boeing 747 was in coach, because for some reason the notion of... being noticed seemed to be dangerous.

Against the window seat, she sat looking out into the sky seeing a white ocean of clouds. Is this what heaven is like? The cream commercials, and that innocently sinful angel made it appear that it was Heaven. And here she was, a trespasser upon the kingdom of God. Sophia had to smile at that. She lived and yet she saw where the angels ate their bagels. "A little taste of Heaven" Making this long trip seem bearable for the most part. Angels and clouds, and looking at the clouds, Sophia had to wonder where the angels were. Scared by the roaring jet engines most likely. The sun was brightly shining on the clouds leaving the ground below them very dark indeed. But, oddly enough, Sophia did not think about the ground at that point because she could not see it. At the other end of the coin, as it were, things were just the same as they were below. One could not think outside the box and wonder about the nature of the unknown.

Sophia was nearly rocked out of her seat as the plane jerked to the left without warning. Her heart beats increased a few hundred percent. What the hell just--- And then everyone, in their panic as stewardesses fell onto the floor and other frightened and terrified passengers, was broken out of their daydream shells and slammed full-throttle back into their comfortable seatlike coffins with a wailing scream. The scream, was due to the sinking feeling in their chests, as the plane lost atltitude and the pressure of gravity caught up with every object that was not securly nailed down. If Sophia had been bleeding right now, she may have died from blood loss the way her heart was pumping blood through her system. Though, she was in good health, the realities of a heart attack became all too real for her. She had never heard it beating so loudly before and, while there was no sharp pain in her chest, she found it difficult to breathe because her lungs were feeling the intense strain upon her center of gravity.

Sophia's mind raced as fast as her heart and her hands were firmly fastened onto the armrests as well. Unsure of the procedures that she refused to look at earlier, she was tight against her seat pretty sure that any rollercoaster ride was preferable to this experience. If she survived, she made a promise to visit all of them and test drive them for the creators of any new ones as a new hobby. The man beside her put his head betwene his legs and his hands behind his head. Though, all she heard was a scream, made by everyone all at once. It was not just the sinking feeling and the weight that sundered the heart and lungs, it was the sound... the sound of air colliding with the metal structure surrounding the plane. An elevating roar that increased in intensity with every passing second. And, the jet engines made their own noise that drowned out everything else. The thing that got Sophia, and anyone else cognizant enough to listen, was that the plane had a scream all it's own. Sophia just could not stand it being next to the window seat and she put her fingers in her ears then to block out the noise that felt like it was tearing her eardrum apart. Luckily, she did not feel any blood in her ears and that made her heart beat a little slower.

"What the hell was--" and the voice was cut off. A male voice, middle aged that was sitting beside Sophia, to her left wearing a blue business like shirt and dress slacks complimented by leather shoes that reflected the light. He had a mushtash and a face with very defined wrinkles down his cheeks and on his forehead. No doubt years of being a bonafide tyranical CEO. He was grasping the arm rests tightly as the plane did not level out. Earlier on, they spoke about the business world and how much it resembled a jungle all it's own. He was doing most of the talking, and Sophia smiled at all the right moments. She originally asked why he wasn't in first class and he said, "Because, most of the bloodthirsty hounds are up there and they'll die first if the plane crashes." Sophia could agree with that.

Now, the plane was crashing, wasn't it? It was dropping out of the sky, like a stone, right? And, at this moment, unlike any other moment... every human being on the plane readily agree that it was happening to them. A good three hundred passengers and crew aboard all unanimously agreed that their lives, however wonderful or terrible they might have been, was coming to terrifying end. Sophia's life, with her job and a possible friendship with the wicked witch Jing-Ye, all seemed to be coming to a close. Sophia's curtain was set, and there was little she could do. At that moment, with her fingers in her ears, the man beside her probably seeing his life pass in front of his eyes and he says, "I've done it all, Jack. Last call" over and over again.

She saw the image of the boy's face. Just his face, with those desperate eyes of his innocent of the real dangers surrounding him, and only aware of the need to survive and a plea, however silent, giving the world a chance to help. But, no one helped him and Sophia saw the bullet enter the mud beside him stirring up the surrounding rainwater and mixed in dirt. She kept seeing the bullet enter the mud over and over as the image shifted, as if to emphasize the importance of that specific part of the memory. But Sophia could just see the replaying movie in her head, over and over again not making sense of it. The whole thing seemed to innane and random. Sophia also found, as she looked to her left seeing the middle aged man lose his lunch on his shoes, that it wouldn't shake easily. It was then that she noticed everyone was in this position that the middle aged man was in, but her. And she was a seasoned flyer. There were times when she walked around her office imaging herself in that position deciding what to wear if that were to ever occur to her.

Here she was, wearing dirty blue jeans and a tight t-shirt making her feminen features apparent along with the nylon connected to cotten fabric that supported them in a shape one could drink out of. The t-shirt was a baby blue colour, and it had no smudges or any dirt on it, so far. Except for a dust bunny that just connected to the middle of her back that was kicked up from the floor.

She kept seeing the boys face and the image shift to the bullet that entered the mud. The spray pattern of the mud would enter the boys eyes and cause his face to turn from it as his right hand attempted to wipe the mud away. Though, it may sting if it entered his eyes directly, like raindrops with shampoo in them, and not the baby Shampoo either! But what was it! What was it trying to say! Damnit, if only she could think straight, this would make sense and there would be that small comfort that she pondered and solved another mystery before her life came to an end. This mystery had to be solved before it was all over, before her heart gave out, before the fire consumed her flesh and bones that erupted from the crash of the plane, before she died as a result of any wounds she might have, before she suffocated because she couldn't breathe due to the rushing of gravity to meet the earth... before... she could grasp... her watch! Her WATCH!

She took one of her fingers out of her ears, as the horrible wailing of the plane drove every thought from her mind, though her fingers weren't doing much good and only provided a psychological comfort at the time. She tried to grasp into her pocket afraid that it might have fallen out when the plane jerked violently to the left. Her pants were tight, and really there was little reason to worry about this, but she did anyway because a large part of her cared for the watch very much. Like it was the most dearest thing to her. She had to dig her hand into the pant pocket on her left side. She had already tried her right side and nothing appeared to be there. Panic made her go for her other pocket and with a furious fevor she dug her hand into her pocket. Resisting the urge to scream herself, resisting the paint of the cotten jeans scraping away her skin or the hair that grew on the top of her fingers between each knuckle. She was sure there was skin scraped away by now, and in some places, perhaps blood? There was no time for that now, she had to have her hand on the watch. It was as if, everything depended on it. How silly, the plane, 300 passengers, all depending on a watch?

Sophia, had her hand on it and though the lights of the plane went off, the masks did not come down yet though no one was in a position to make them fall down at all. And so, oxygen was a rare commodity and, as a result, the plane's passengers were in more of a state of panic. Sophia's hand clutched the watch, sending a calming effect over her despite the physical stress she was under. It reminded her of how pure oxygen made everyone doscile during a crisis like this, no wait, during a tragedy? Who can really say...

The image of the boy and the bullet entering the mud became clearer to her now. As the bullet was not directly entering the boy yet. It was beside him, half a foot or so and, merely served to frighten the boy. This was one possibility, cruel as it may seem. Another possibility was that it was a warning shot and that he had better move. But move where? The whole area was a warzone and the soldier's didn't give many people a chance as they tried to escape the carnage. It was inevitable that someone got... left behind. Sophia thought more and then realized, maybe whoever fired had missed. Sophia thought this was too random to be of any use to her, but there was the possibility that in all the chaos someone with too much adrenaline couldn't aim quite right. Then a revelation came to her, perhaps the bullets were meant for her, and the boy took them instead? This seemed a more realistic possibility, as the boy had done nothing, was too young to do anything harmful to anyone. Sophia was the tainted adult there, the target, the journalist who ignored every warning that the army was moving in to secure the rebels.

Sophia realized this then, the image then shifted back to the boys face. His face was resolve and resolute certainty. An odd look for a boy his age, a baby even. But, it was as if all the experience a man could ever have was put on that boy's face. Sophia got lucky, and a baby took the blows that were meant for her. She felt ashamed that a baby saved her life that day and wished it could be the otherway around. But the image faded from her mind leaving her with a guilty feeling of... "It should have been me." But, right then, the roaring jet engine was cooling down and becoming less angry and agitated.

Everyone could hear that the rushing air became less and less with each passing second. Some could hear their prayers being answered as the plane leveled out... finally. And began to be very smooth after a few minutes of turbulance that everyone was very happy they felt. Though, it was likely this airline lost, 300 customers who'll never fly again. But, hey... they may be alive and that was a benefit on the annual report. At that point, the man beside Sophia, still with his head between his legs calmly restated the Lord's prayer as the roaring of the engines died down. Sophia smiled that his heart had survived the ordeal. She tried to take her hand off of the watch, only to find that it hurt at certain points. As she tried to take her hand out of her jeans pocket, there was a slight wetness that may be due to sweat. Though, when Sophia looked, her eyes were... full of shock. There was a red spot that lost it's circumfrance. Blood.... she had been bleeding and might have lost a pint or two. She felt light headed and weak all over her body as she slowly removed her hand from the watch. Though, she felt a throbbing in her hand, there was little resistance taking her hand out of her pocket.

When she did, she heard cheers and shouts of joys from all sides. A lot of people were praising god, or Martha Stewart, which ever way the bread and wine went down. She wasn't cheering though, she was frightened by the whiteness of her hand. The cold clammy feel of it and how she couldn't really use it for very much other than look at it. Perhaps, she cut off circulation because of the tight jean pockets and if she cut herself, all of it came rushing out. Seemed workable at least. But, where did it go? Sophia shook her head and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes sitting back in the seat and rubbed her right hand on the middle aged man's back. Then she held her left hand, and said. "Hey there, your still alive ya know. You all right down there?" He didn't say much for a minute or two, and then turning his head and said, "It's... wonderful... I couldn't be happier. I'M FUCKING ALIVE!" Sophia smiled hiding her left hand between her legs.