December 24, 1997
“If we’re going to make it back in time for Christmas, we have to!” Jack Knight answered, sitting in the pilot’s zitplaats, stoel of his boss’s Lear jet. He flew his boss everywhere around the world; his reward was use of the plane once a jaar for a vacation. This jaar it was Osaka, Japan. He, his wife Karen – eight and a half months pregnant with their seconde child – and their 17-month-old baby boy, Edgar, had just left the island country behind after eleven days in the Orient.
Jack was just turning 23, with light brown hair, an average build, and a thin mustache. He wore tinted glasses on his head, mostly for looks and shade from the sun glare when he flew. Karen leaned over his shoulder.
Karen was quite a catch for the slightly nerdy Jack. She was 21, in her senior jaar at West Virginia State College, where she was majoring in sports medicine. She was homecoming queen at Poca High School four years ago. Five foot eight and 120 pounds of beautiful curves with glowing red hair and bright green eyes, she had been the ugliest girl in middle school. That’s when she and Jack had started their childhood romance, but tenth grade transformed the tall, dangerously skinny little kid into a knockout with the addition of perfectly round, curvy features, making her sleek and sexy beyond her years. All the guys wanted her then, but she had grown up with the dream of marrying the only guy who would even talk to the curly-headed, freckled, brace-faced, four-eyed anorexic freak she used to be. She remained faithful and devoted to him despite every jock competing for her attention, and Jack stayed true to her despite every jock beating him up on a regular basis and humiliating him constantly.
They lived in kruis Lanes, just four miles from the school, in a trailer park. They were hoping to buy a house after Karen completed her schooling, living on what Jack made as a pilot and the tips Karen made three nights a week at the local pizza Hut.
“Edgar is not even two years old, he won’t know what dag Christmas is on, Jack. Besides, didn’t u say this Bermuda driehoek is deadly?” Karen continued, nervously.
“It’s called the Devil’s Triangle; the Bermuda driehoek is in the Atlantic Ocean, near Bermuda, hence the name, the Bermuda Triangle. We’re in the Pacific at about the same latitude,” he explained, almost too scientifically for her.
“But u zei thousands of ships and planes disappeared here—”
“Yes, dear, many times meer than the Bermuda Triangle. But the fact remains that it’s just as veilig as any other area of the ocean, except, like in the Atlantic, tropical weather is generally worse here, cyclones pop up and grow in hours and—”
“You’re not making me feel any better, Jack.”
Jack laughed, “Go back and sit with Edgar, honey, take a nap of something, watch a movie. We’ll be fine...”
“Ok, honey, you’re the pilot,” Karen zei shakily, kissing her husband then walking back to the passenger area where Edgar lay sound asleep, fastened in his zitplaats, stoel snuggly.
The lights suddenly went out, the engines stopped, and eerie silence took over. “What’s going on, Jack?” she shrieked.
“I don’t know, Karen! Everything just...quit!” he called back, in a panic.
Karen stared down at her baby boy as soon as the emergency lights flickered on in the aisles, his eyes were wide open and he had a resigned look of understanding. Karen was awestruck at the boy’s expression, she continued to stand there, transfixed, as Jack screamed in absolute terror that they were going down and she should buckle in. He was going to try to land on the choppy water surface, but he knew that was no safer than diving straight in.
They were going to die. Karen still stood as they hit the water minuten later, totally oblivious to the passage of time. It had taken eight minutes, she noticed none of it, it was all a blur, all of Jack’s explanations, cries of “I love you”, cursing, begging, pleading. She only registered it all subconsciously, staring at Edgar’s blissful visage. Then, blackness.
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“If we’re going to make it back in time for Christmas, we have to!” Jack Knight answered, sitting in the pilot’s zitplaats, stoel of his boss’s Lear jet. He flew his boss everywhere around the world; his reward was use of the plane once a jaar for a vacation. This jaar it was Osaka, Japan. He, his wife Karen – eight and a half months pregnant with their seconde child – and their 17-month-old baby boy, Edgar, had just left the island country behind after eleven days in the Orient.
Jack was just turning 23, with light brown hair, an average build, and a thin mustache. He wore tinted glasses on his head, mostly for looks and shade from the sun glare when he flew. Karen leaned over his shoulder.
Karen was quite a catch for the slightly nerdy Jack. She was 21, in her senior jaar at West Virginia State College, where she was majoring in sports medicine. She was homecoming queen at Poca High School four years ago. Five foot eight and 120 pounds of beautiful curves with glowing red hair and bright green eyes, she had been the ugliest girl in middle school. That’s when she and Jack had started their childhood romance, but tenth grade transformed the tall, dangerously skinny little kid into a knockout with the addition of perfectly round, curvy features, making her sleek and sexy beyond her years. All the guys wanted her then, but she had grown up with the dream of marrying the only guy who would even talk to the curly-headed, freckled, brace-faced, four-eyed anorexic freak she used to be. She remained faithful and devoted to him despite every jock competing for her attention, and Jack stayed true to her despite every jock beating him up on a regular basis and humiliating him constantly.
They lived in kruis Lanes, just four miles from the school, in a trailer park. They were hoping to buy a house after Karen completed her schooling, living on what Jack made as a pilot and the tips Karen made three nights a week at the local pizza Hut.
“Edgar is not even two years old, he won’t know what dag Christmas is on, Jack. Besides, didn’t u say this Bermuda driehoek is deadly?” Karen continued, nervously.
“It’s called the Devil’s Triangle; the Bermuda driehoek is in the Atlantic Ocean, near Bermuda, hence the name, the Bermuda Triangle. We’re in the Pacific at about the same latitude,” he explained, almost too scientifically for her.
“But u zei thousands of ships and planes disappeared here—”
“Yes, dear, many times meer than the Bermuda Triangle. But the fact remains that it’s just as veilig as any other area of the ocean, except, like in the Atlantic, tropical weather is generally worse here, cyclones pop up and grow in hours and—”
“You’re not making me feel any better, Jack.”
Jack laughed, “Go back and sit with Edgar, honey, take a nap of something, watch a movie. We’ll be fine...”
“Ok, honey, you’re the pilot,” Karen zei shakily, kissing her husband then walking back to the passenger area where Edgar lay sound asleep, fastened in his zitplaats, stoel snuggly.
The lights suddenly went out, the engines stopped, and eerie silence took over. “What’s going on, Jack?” she shrieked.
“I don’t know, Karen! Everything just...quit!” he called back, in a panic.
Karen stared down at her baby boy as soon as the emergency lights flickered on in the aisles, his eyes were wide open and he had a resigned look of understanding. Karen was awestruck at the boy’s expression, she continued to stand there, transfixed, as Jack screamed in absolute terror that they were going down and she should buckle in. He was going to try to land on the choppy water surface, but he knew that was no safer than diving straight in.
They were going to die. Karen still stood as they hit the water minuten later, totally oblivious to the passage of time. It had taken eight minutes, she noticed none of it, it was all a blur, all of Jack’s explanations, cries of “I love you”, cursing, begging, pleading. She only registered it all subconsciously, staring at Edgar’s blissful visage. Then, blackness.
if u like this, check out other stuff from me at: link
