r33hash
07-05-2006, 04:11 PM
My mind is racing. Thoughts hit me each turning second like bullets from a semi-automatic weapon. I try to grasp them catch them in my hands like Superman. But they bounce off me, mostly, like rain drops on a raincoat. Yet, occasionally, one sharp armor piercing round from my mind will pierce through this raincoat and provoke me to drive into something that I know I must try and do.
One of those ricochet shots provoked me to the place I am now. In this cockpit with this other man, whom I met only a few hours ago. As I stare out the window at the voluptuous clouds, I remember the reason I am where I am. I see my children and my wife as their faces form in the mixture of air and condensation. I see them in pain, and I see them hurting. I am reminded of my goal.
I look down at my hands to play with my wedding band, as a tear streams from my cheek like another raindrop thought that has been lost from my mind. I attempt to catch the thought, and as it pools in my hand, the curdled blood liquefies once again. Blood doesnt stain skin, but it does taint the heart.
I grasp my hand shut, as Im reminded of my actions. I pray to my God once again for guidance, and a remote forgiveness which I know is more than necessary. Prayer is the key to my day of all days. Guidance is the light that shall show me the way. And forgiveness is the one thing that I must have for myself, for the things I must do, and the dismissing of Hell.
Courage hm Courage is nothing special. Bravery is a mythical feeling that people attempt to convey when they sense fear not only in others, but also within themselves. Bravery is something that gets a man killed. I do not call myself brave for flying this plane when the pilot lies face down in a pool of blood and spit and God knows what else. I fly this plane out of respect for my family. I enter in coordinates and check all the dials and turn off the radio because I see my family every time I look at those clouds.
I hear the passengers, screaming and moaning and yelling and doing whatever else they deem necessary for the situation at hand. The overhead breathing apparatus release button glows at me like a giant neon light. But we all know where neon lights lead to. Neon lights lead to sin and desperation and greed and guilt. Neon lights lead to death and destitution. Neon lights lead to Hell.
I refrain from hitting the button. I stay my course as my copilot sweats and fidgets and turns to yell at the occasional overly loud woman or child. I stopped attempting to calm him about an hour ago, and decidedly began to ignore him as much as possible. I pray again.
Prayer is my source of calm. I sweat only because its in my nature to sweat. My mind is racing, only because I am worried about missing something. My hands are shaking only because of my elevated heartbeat and heavily streaming blood. I am calm, on the inside, even if I look as nervous as the man next to me.
As I begin to fall deep into my dreams and my praises to my God, the screaming and roaring and noises and beeps all begin to fade out. I can see Heaven now, with its gates open to me wide and inviting. I can see my family beyond those gates, arms outstretched and welcoming. But the most important thing is the fact that the gates are open. Open for me.
The silence is deafening. I cant hear a single noise, not because of my deep sense of thought, but because no noises were being made. I turn to look down the long corridor and notice every single person staring in awe out the left side windows. I know what they see. My copilot sat still as a statue, staring out the same side window at something horrible and awesome, both at once.
Suddenly the clouds seem to disappear with a gust of wind from God himself. My God, not yours. I can see for miles and miles on end, and I stare in awe at the amazing sight. I scan the horizon and see a city. The greatest city on earth. My heart jumps as I see the buildings of downtown New York. My mind is at ease. No more raindrops of emotion or tension or death or despair. All I feel now is a peace of mind that Ive been dreaming of since before I can remember.
I take the reigns of this huge aircraft and aim it at my target. I see the first engulfed building, smoke barreling into the sky. This is the sight that every passenger on my missile was staring at. I center myself at the second building, with full knowledge that the world is watching.
I am not a terrorist. I am the Hand of God.
One of those ricochet shots provoked me to the place I am now. In this cockpit with this other man, whom I met only a few hours ago. As I stare out the window at the voluptuous clouds, I remember the reason I am where I am. I see my children and my wife as their faces form in the mixture of air and condensation. I see them in pain, and I see them hurting. I am reminded of my goal.
I look down at my hands to play with my wedding band, as a tear streams from my cheek like another raindrop thought that has been lost from my mind. I attempt to catch the thought, and as it pools in my hand, the curdled blood liquefies once again. Blood doesnt stain skin, but it does taint the heart.
I grasp my hand shut, as Im reminded of my actions. I pray to my God once again for guidance, and a remote forgiveness which I know is more than necessary. Prayer is the key to my day of all days. Guidance is the light that shall show me the way. And forgiveness is the one thing that I must have for myself, for the things I must do, and the dismissing of Hell.
Courage hm Courage is nothing special. Bravery is a mythical feeling that people attempt to convey when they sense fear not only in others, but also within themselves. Bravery is something that gets a man killed. I do not call myself brave for flying this plane when the pilot lies face down in a pool of blood and spit and God knows what else. I fly this plane out of respect for my family. I enter in coordinates and check all the dials and turn off the radio because I see my family every time I look at those clouds.
I hear the passengers, screaming and moaning and yelling and doing whatever else they deem necessary for the situation at hand. The overhead breathing apparatus release button glows at me like a giant neon light. But we all know where neon lights lead to. Neon lights lead to sin and desperation and greed and guilt. Neon lights lead to death and destitution. Neon lights lead to Hell.
I refrain from hitting the button. I stay my course as my copilot sweats and fidgets and turns to yell at the occasional overly loud woman or child. I stopped attempting to calm him about an hour ago, and decidedly began to ignore him as much as possible. I pray again.
Prayer is my source of calm. I sweat only because its in my nature to sweat. My mind is racing, only because I am worried about missing something. My hands are shaking only because of my elevated heartbeat and heavily streaming blood. I am calm, on the inside, even if I look as nervous as the man next to me.
As I begin to fall deep into my dreams and my praises to my God, the screaming and roaring and noises and beeps all begin to fade out. I can see Heaven now, with its gates open to me wide and inviting. I can see my family beyond those gates, arms outstretched and welcoming. But the most important thing is the fact that the gates are open. Open for me.
The silence is deafening. I cant hear a single noise, not because of my deep sense of thought, but because no noises were being made. I turn to look down the long corridor and notice every single person staring in awe out the left side windows. I know what they see. My copilot sat still as a statue, staring out the same side window at something horrible and awesome, both at once.
Suddenly the clouds seem to disappear with a gust of wind from God himself. My God, not yours. I can see for miles and miles on end, and I stare in awe at the amazing sight. I scan the horizon and see a city. The greatest city on earth. My heart jumps as I see the buildings of downtown New York. My mind is at ease. No more raindrops of emotion or tension or death or despair. All I feel now is a peace of mind that Ive been dreaming of since before I can remember.
I take the reigns of this huge aircraft and aim it at my target. I see the first engulfed building, smoke barreling into the sky. This is the sight that every passenger on my missile was staring at. I center myself at the second building, with full knowledge that the world is watching.
I am not a terrorist. I am the Hand of God.