1.11.2006
Atishoo, Atishoo, We're Going Down
http://www.netsaga.is/media/files/TitledUntitled.mp3 My name is Jack Franklin, and I’m one of the actors referred to in the headline. Over the past ten years or so I’ve made quite a name for myself in Hollywood, appearing in no less than six block busting movies. The other gentleman that was in the plane with me when it went down, with the exception of the pilot, was Charles Durrant - an equally successful actor, and treasured friend. The horror took place as we were flying in my private jet, a Piper Seneca 3, from Los Angeles International Airport to Chicago, where we were due to begin shooting our latest movie together - which was an exciting first for us, as we had never appeared in the same film. The pilot, Winston Codran, a kind and exceptionally amusing man, had flown my plane on numerous occasions, all without incident, and I trusted him completely. The flight had progressed smoothly, take off had been perfect, and even turbulence seemed to be having a day off, when, without warning, the aircraft angled into a steep nose dive as we were on approach to Chicago airport runway. Myself and Charles screamed in absolute terror, and believe me when I say that a genuine scream is a far cry from anything in the movies. It makes you realise just how difficult it can be to convey such an emotion effectively to the big screen. The sharp downward motion of the plane threw us both to the floor and we landed in a huddle, holding onto each other in a united embrace. "Winston, what’s happening?" Charles’ had sobbed, but no reply came from the cockpit. And then to me, "We’re going to die Jack, we’re going to die." I could find no words. It seemed an eternity before the plane finally made contact with the ground, and the impact is difficult to describe. Take American Football as an example. Imagine being stripped of all the protective padding that the players wear, and then being tackled by the biggest guy on the park. Painful huh? Now multiply it by a hundred, no, a thousand, and then maybe you’ll begin to get the picture. We had landed slightly to one side of the runway and miraculously, don’t ask me how, we both survived. I must have been knocked unconscious, because I remember nothing of what happened next, and only have Charles’ account to go on. Apparently Charles had been more fortunate than myself, suffering only a nasty gash to his left arm, and he was able to escape through a large tear in the main body of the aircraft, which he also managed to pull me through to safety, God bless him. My gutsy friend even went back to try and rescue Winston, but a fire had rapidly taken hold in the cockpit, and the heat of the flames was too overwhelming for him. The next thing that I actually remember is being in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, and being told how lucky I had been. My only injuries were a broken forearm, and a dislocated shoulder. The following day I was seen by several Doctors, who asked me numerous questions, and performed a few tests on me to make sure that all was in order. They were most attentive, possibly thinking that if anything went inadvertently wrong to a celebrity of my international standing, then their careers would come crashing down faster than my private jet. Or perhaps they were just doing their jobs. They concluded that aside from my broken forearm and dislocated shoulder, that there would be no other physical repercussions. How wrong can you be? Two days after the crash I was discharged from the hospital, only to be greeted outside by a blizzard of paparazzi camera flashes, and ceaseless questions. All I could tell them was what they already knew. I stressed that the pilot should be regarded as a hero, for managing to bring the plane down in something that resembled a landing, and for saving mine and Charles’ lives by preventing it from plunging into a full dive (witnesses had reported how the plane had begun to right itself before final impact). I then simply told them that investigations were taking place as to why the aircraft had crashed, and that an autopsy was being done on the charred remains of Winston’s body to try and determine if anything had happened to him whilst flying the plane. Quickly tiring of their petty questions, I jumped into a waiting car and was whisked off to a hotel on the outskirts of Chicago. Once in my first class hotel room, it occurred to me that it was the first time I had been left alone since the crash. I had no girlfriend or wife to be fussing over me, and my parents had both died years ago. I sat down heavily in one of the room’s plush easy chairs, intending to use this time alone to reflect on the horror of two days ago, when my nostrils started to give that familiar tingling that precedes a sneeze. I attempted to hold it back, but my nose convincingly won the battle..... ARRTCHOOOO. As I opened my eyes after the sneeze I remember thinking, "Jeez, that was a big one", before realising that I was no longer in my hotel room. I was back in my private jet. Charles was there too, and he was busy slagging off some actress that had turned down his advances, just the same as he had done immediately before the flight had started to go so horribly wrong. The next thing I knew and the plane was turning into its murderous dive, and myself and Charles were once more huddled on the floor screaming. "Winston, what’s happening?" Charles’ sobbed, before turning to me, "We’re going to die Jack, we’re going to die." Somehow I was reliving the horror. Everything progressed exactly as I remembered it the first time around. The screams, shouts, tears, fear, everything, all the way up to the impact of the crash, and then....... .......I was back sitting in my hotel room. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had I been dreaming, or imagined it? Maybe the trauma of the past few days had caused me to have such a vivid flashback, or perhaps a hallucination. I was still upset, I reasoned, that must have been it. Boy, I needed a drink. I made my way to the room’s drink cabinet, and poured myself a generous measure of whisky. It was just the shock, that was all. The drink would help to steady my nerves. Then, around two hours later, I was taking a shower when my nose started tingling once more.... ARRTCHOOOO. It happened again. I was in my plane, Charles was slagging of the actress, and then we were hurtling towards the ground at an incredible speed. And once more, after impact, I found myself back in the hotel, standing in the shower. Well, I couldn’t have been dreaming, not standing up and in the shower. What was going on? Was I going mad? Over the next few days, this happened time and time again. Every time I sneezed, I found myself on Flight 666 to hell. Someone once told me that the force of a sneeze is so powerful, that should you manage to keep your eyelids open, then your eyeballs would pop right out of their sockets, like tiny jack-in-the-boxes. True? I don’t know, but I sure began to believe in the strength of a sneeze. Maybe the incredible impact of the landing set off some sort of reaction in my body that altered it in unseen ways. Unbelievable? Tell me about it. But there are many strange things in the world, some a lot closer to home than you might imagine. If someone had told my grandmother, when she was a child, that a whole library of information would one day be stored on something the size of a computer chip, or that man would be walking on the moon, she would have laughed her socks off. So, if the amazing things that we simply take for granted are so unbelievable, doesn’t it stand to reason that the things we don’t understand are quite possible as well? I’ve heard tales of people involved in accidents, where peculiar things have happened to them; from someone whose hair changed from black to bright white, to another who seemed to gain the power to see the future. These are the sort of fantasy lives that I’ve been used to portraying in incredible movies, but now I seemed to be suffering a role reversal. What could I do, I wondered. I couldn’t risk seeing a doctor for fear of being referred to a psychiatrist. That would do wonders for my movie career that would. Who would want to cast me in their lead role if I was a known nut-case? No-one, that’s who. Starring Jack ‘the sneezing time traveller’ Franklin. I don’t think so. Imagine if the papers got wind of it, I would have been ruined. Then the idea struck me. If I was physically reliving the crash, didn’t it stand to reason that I could maybe do something about it? If Winston was unable to land the plane then why didn’t I give it a go, after all he’d given me a few brief flying lessons. The idea set in my head I began to will myself to sneeze, and when that tingling sensation eventually began, I felt excitement instead of fear...... ARRTCHOOOO. I was in the plane. Charles was slagging off the actress, but instead of listening to him I made my way to the cockpit. As I entered, Winston suddenly slumped over at the controls, and fell from his seat, grabbing his chest, a heart attack having taken hold of him. Quickly I stepped over him as the plane began to dive, and assumed the controls, at the same time calling to Charles, who staggered into the cockpit, his face as white as the clouds that the plane was intent on plunging through. "What the....." he began. "No time," I said. "Get him out of here." Charles duly complied, and began dragging Winston out of my way. I returned my attention to the dials, switches and controls in front of me, and tried to remember what little I had been taught - but to no avail. Although I had steadied it some, the plane continued to plunge downwards. I simply didn’t know enough, I realised as the ground loomed closer and closer. Then, CRASH, and that all too familiar impact. Now I stand here watching as the coffin is lowered slowly into the ground. Charles is crying uncontrollably, probably thinking that it could so easily have been him. Sitting in a wheelchair next to him is Winston, also crying, but at least alive, having survived a heart attack and plane crash. He owes his life to Charles who pulled him from the wreckage of the plane. Charles couldn’t get to me. The heat of the flames overwhelmed him. I glance once more at the headline of the newspaper that is held in my ethereal grip. It reads, ‘Jack Franklin Dies in Plane Crash Horror.’ The End
‘Actors Survive Plane Crash Horror - Pilot Dies’, the newspaper’s headline had proclaimed.
Since the accident my life had undergone a dramatic and unbelievable transformation. I guess that after being involved in a plane crash it would be foolish to believe that everything would ever seem exactly the same again, but the changes that I experienced go beyond anything that anyone could ever have foreseen.