The Alphabet Project, part 1: "Airport"

Remember I mentioned this a while ago? Well the first story is finished and the second is almost done, so here's the first one.

Before I start, the rules were as follows:
* The title of each story must start with a different letter of the alphabet, but in sequence (so A, B, C...)
* No minimum or maximum length.
* No specific genre or style, so anything goes.
* Everything must be first draft, so no editing or tweaking allowed - what is published is the very first version, exactly as it was written.

So here we are: "Airport":

***

They silently stared through the glass, watching the planes as they descended, wingtips twitching as the wheels touched the tarmac. Bursts of spray rose from the tyres, shrouding the fuselages from view until their speed reduced and taxiing began.

Some sat and stared, distracted only by their children or the thought of duty-free shopping, whilst others wandered and smiled, holding hands, already on holiday in their minds’ eyes. From time to time a tortured expression revealed inner torment: have I packed everything; did I cancel the milk; will the cat be alright; have I packed my underpants?

Susan nodded towards the window as a jet touched down. “That’s a big one.”

Brian returned the nod. “Jumbo. Virgin. Probably come from America.”

“Oh.” And with that they returned to silence.

Susan and Brian were both forty-three years old and looking forward to a two-week holiday in Corfu. Seasoned travellers, they knew exactly what to expect at the airport and so the novelty and excitement of the place had been eroded by time. Now they just wanted to check in, board the plane, and fly, everything else being an annoyance.

A roar from outside as another jet fought the forces of gravity and rose into the sky. Brian watched its ascent as he pushed another Pringle into his mouth.

“There’s another one coming in,” Susan offered, tipping her brow in the direction of a bright light in the sky a few miles from the end of the runway.

“They really queue ‘em up at this time of day,” Brian replied.

The light grew brighter and seemed to split into two, then four, and gradually the form of the aircraft grew clearer, two lights either side of the cabin, one blinking at the tip of each wing. The nose lifted slightly, then twitched, and suddenly the ‘plane flipped onto its side and landed on its back, sliding down the runway, sparks becoming flames becoming smoke becoming panic becoming screams.

Susan tutted. “Will this mean we’re delayed again? We were delayed an hour last year, remember?”

Brian sighed, nodding sagely. “Two hours the year before that too.” He stared impassively at the unfolding scene outside. “I shouldn’t think so, love – the fire engines are on their way, and they’ve got another runway besides.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I hate it when we’re late.”

Outside, the jets of foam began to spray.

(Edinburgh – 28th October 2008)
(C) Peter Lee 2008 / A Nasal Hair Production

***

All comments gratefully received.

The next story is rude. It is called "Bondage"...