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Stranded

Will help come in a matter of time?

By Denzel BeauchampPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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Photo by Jahoo Clouseau from Pexels

“Wake up!” I shouted, shoving the pilot.

He didn’t move.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and got up, fighting against the branches that had broken through the windshield.

“Hey!” I called.

But he still didn’t respond. That’s when I realized what had happened: One of the branches had impaled the pilot through the chest. If he was still alive, he wouldn’t exactly be happy about his current circumstances.

I turned away. The glass window beside me was shattered, but, of course, these kinds of aircraft had special glass that kept the pieces together, so they don’t end up hurting the people inside.

I had to get out.

“This is the last time I take a recreational flight,” I muttered. I kicked at the glass as hard as I could and dislodged the window, then climbed out of the light aircraft.

All I could see was vegetation. The plane had hit a tree that had been so angry that it stabbed the plane, killing my pilot. I was in a grassy plain with some trees scattered around. There was no sign of civilization except for the crashed plane.

I didn’t have my phone with me. I’d left it with my stuff at the hangar. But maybe I could use the plane equipment to contact…

No, definitely not. Just then, the plane burst into flame. I stumbled back, staring at my last hope.

I’d stayed as close to the burning wreckage as I could for hours, hoping the fire would signal somebody, anybody. But there was no rescue helicopter in sight. So, I left the plane and my poor pilot behind.

It was raining as I trudged along with no idea where I was going. I had to find some food. There was nothing but grass and trees around, though. None of the trees I checked had any fruit, though they did have some caterpillars. (And I wasn’t that hungry just yet.)

There must have been small animals that I could eat. If I could catch them. I heard them walking around the grass, saw the grass part for them, even in this rain. But I wasn’t about to kid myself into thinking I could catch anything. Or that I could figure out how to light a fire to cook something even if I did catch it.

I looked back in the direction of the wreckage. I couldn’t see any smoke. The rain must have doused the fire. I should have tried to find shelter, but I just had to keep going. At least I was still wearing my helmet, though.

Just then, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was a huge, round pig with dark fur. Its ears were pricked up, pointing directly at me.

I swallowed, dreaming of what the pig would look like on a plate. Glazed ham… baked in an oven for Christmas dinner… Maybe a bit of coleslaw on the side. Would I ever get to taste that again?

Have you ever had a thought and then looked around in embarrassment, hoping no one overheard your thoughts somehow? Well, Mr. Pig apparently had. Because it roared and squealed and started straight toward me at full speed.

I was frozen in place for at least five seconds, watching it gallop like a, well, a wild boar. Then, I finally snapped myself out of it and ran.

It was hard getting a footing in the rain. I felt like every step I took brought me closer to slipping on the wet grass. Every time I turned around, the pig looked like it was getting closer. That pig was a Bull! Oh was I scared for my life.

There were trees around. Should I steer towards one and try to climb it? Could Bulls climb? No. Of course not! But it was almost on me now. There was no time!

I suddenly burst through a wall of bushes and found myself stomping on wet pavement.

A road!

I ground to a stop as something else called my attention. A car. Headed straight for me.

I covered my face, expecting the worst. The car slid (spun, really) right past me, though, coming to a slow stop.

Panting heavily, I turned back to the wall of bushes. The Bull wasn’t following me, anymore.

“What the hell, man?!” the driver shouted at me, after winding down her window.

“I’m sorry!” I answered. “I just survived a plane crash. I… Please, help me.”

She narrowed her eyes at me through the rain. She must have seen the flying helmet, if not my disheveled wet clothes.

“Alright,” she said, finally. “Hop in.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and jogged over to her car. I hoped she would forgive me for getting her seat wet.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Denzel Beauchamp

Content Creator & Multi-ECOM Business Owner Known for posting YouTube videos and showing people Legitimate ways of making a sufficient amount of income online.

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