The flight attendants are doing their thing. Up ahead, the single runway, visible from miles away. Reassurance from Air Control. Below, the lights of the city. Three hundred passengers fastening seatbelts.
Yesterday’s chemicals still in the system.
Everywhere are lights, all colours, popping, flashing. His eyes focus, refocus, focus. In his headset, voices garbled, high-pitched. His brain somersaulting.
Now, several runways, twisting, shifting, entwining rods of light. Voices incomprehensible.
Behind him, violent creatures, half-man, half-ape. The cockpit fills with water. The windows melt.
He looks out at the ground crews off-loading baggage. His co-pilot relaxed.
Momentarily, he considers rehab.
This was written in response to this week’s Friday Fiction 100 word challenge.