Conspiracy Or Reality?

A victim from the disappearance of the MH307 in 2014.

The turbulence of the aircraft begins to get pretty intense. As it rises, I press the button on my mp3 player to increase the volume of my music, which engulfs me, shutting out everything happening around me. I shut my eyes, hoping what I believe doesn’t come true. I hear the mumbling of voices from all four corners but refuse to open my eyes afraid my eyeballs might fall out. Reminder-this was my first ever trip alone.

I make an effort to relax my tensed muscles. I lean back resting on the seat, grasping my red boarding pass in my palms. I stared at my name written in bold, Alissa Robinson. I decided to maybe look out the window instead, but oh do I regret that to this very minute. 

I glanced out of the elliptical window expecting to see a dark night sky, as it was 8:09 pm, according to my watch. However, it was a sight to see. Furious lighting struck the navy blue sky, the dark night time swallowing the aircraft, while it sways back and forth losing its balance. The dazzling circular tornadoes seemed unreal. The lighting still blinding me, started forming a shape. Every time they flared, it would glare to form a triangle. The Bermuda Triangle.

I reasoned to myself for an exact 12 minutes that I was having hallucinations, or going insane. Until I remembered, the duration of this flight was intended to be 6 hours. It’s been 8. I looked around me, almost everybody was having the same expression as me. The gorgeous blonde sitting next to me was literally tearing her hair out, yelling “where are we?” An infant across the aisle was as quiet as a mouse, and the old man was holding a locket with Jesus on it, and his wife’s picture inside it. 

That was the moment it really occurred to me. Something is wrong. Something is not right. We aren't where we are supposed to be. I’m a 15-year-old girl traveling alone for the first time in my entire life, and the airplane I’m sitting on, in all probability flew into a haphazard country. 

The mumbling of voices, the frightened faces the constrained and confined place, certainly did not make me feel any better. And as strange as it may seem, the last thing I remember hearing clearly was the nebulous voice of the pilot on the dampen speakers. “We've got a problem, please stay seated and follow the emergency procedure.” Before I could do anything in my capability, I looked across to see the old man with the chain, and he was gone.

Everything happened all of a sudden. I barely remember where I was last. I recall a throbbing headache, children wailing, and the old man shedding tears. The aircraft had reached a dead end. We were in a desolate location, probably under the sea, probably on an ice cap, who would know? 

My hands were trembling, not responding to the signals my brain was passing. I could hear the sound of my pounding heartbeat, sweat dripping from my forehead, perhaps even drops of blood. I was all alone. I thought this was the end, In this pitch-black, rayless aircraft with strangers, or no strangers surrounding me. 

I took a deep breath, struggling to maintain my calm. I managed to puzzle out that I was still sitting in an airplane seat. With a great deal of struggle, I managed to reach under my seat and grab my blue Abercrombie backpack. My body shivering with fear, I fumbled around to find the little zip of the bag. I grappled the chunky jacket which I stuffed right on the top. 

I swiftly put on the jacket and hugged myself, feeling guarded, feeling safer. I shut my eyelids gently, tender tears touching my face. I brushed my scorched and tangled chestnut brown hair out of my face and tapped my feet on the ground of the aircraft, creating a rhythm. Lost in the moment, my sneakers started getting damp. Damp in the impression of water. There was water underneath the surface. 

I jumped out of the seat, my legs numb, feeling paralyzed. But I still continued. I was going to make it out. I felt my way around, running into a food cart and seats, I put my hand against the wall and felt around the aircraft. My hand drifted past a bump on the wall. It was the emergency door. I grasped the handle and turned it with all the strength left in me.

The door fell open downward. A rush of angry water waves made its way in the aircraft, flooding it. I was in the water. My face turned cherry red, as I did not gasp for my last breath of air. I swam out of the door, into a wild sea, with nothing to see but darkness around me. I swam upward. Not knowing where I was going, more into the deep sea, or to the shore. My jacket floating behind me, my backpack’s weight putting me down, I used my set aside power to swim upward. My hands pushing aside the choppy current, my legs kicking behind me, my lungs failing, I focused on the top, seeing moonlight, seeing flashes of thunder. The end was near.

My arms reached the top, feeling the sharp cold air. Then me. My body gasped for air vigorously, as though breathing for the first time. My legs still peddling under the water, I gazed around. To the right side of me was the shore. It was near, and I could make it.

I kicked with the tiny bit of energy left from my set aside power and gasped and moaned as I swam. I spoke to myself;

“Just a bit more.”

“We’re getting there.”

And so was it. My body touched land, and nothing mattered more at that hour of my existence. I flipped myself around, taking off my jacket and my backpack, leaving myself trembling in the crisp air while it hit me. My delicate ears listening for any voice around me, getting startled by the whistling of the wind, I hear a voice speak out silently;

“Save, O Lord; May the King answer us on the day we call. That your beloved may be delivered, Save with your right hand, and answer us!”

It was the old man from the plane. He was standing near the shore, holding his chain, staring at the sky, speaking to the lord. My croaky voice managed to speak out, “Who are you, how did you escape?”

The old man said “The moment I felt this was going to go wrong, I noticed you, Alissa Robinson. We are the only two who survived. You swam, and oh, let's keep my ways a mystery. It's everywhere darling. MH307 has “disappeared.” According to all news sources, our families have given up. The world is trying”

My shivers got intense. My legs trembling, I fell onto the soft sand. I was drowning in my own tears. So this is it? 

“Where are we?” I yelled. 

My question was answered. The lightning blaring, the shape forming. Getting closer, the triangle forming around the aircraft’s last spot. It was Bermuda. The Bermuda Triangle. And a 15 and 70-year-old just escaped it.