On Eagles' Wings

by Lisa Kwan I’ll probably die. We’ll all probably die, never to get out of this alive. The sounds on the aircraft are deafening. I can hear screams, wailing, babies crying, prayers muttered in languages I don’t know, to deities and gods I have never known. A man is yelling at a distraught flight stewardess, arguing about something completely meaningless at this point. The plane is tilted somewhat downwards now; I make an effort to keep my back against the upright seat. I tighten my seatbelt, and then unintentionally allow a chuckle to escape my lips from the absurdity of it all. The plane is about to go down, and I tighten my seatbelt? How helpful. I turn to her, sitting beside me, sobbing hysterically; squeezing my hand so tight it is practically white. I turn to her, but I can only stare helplessly. What do you say, in such circumstances? What do you say, when you know there’s not going to be a tomorrow? I stroke her hand, and she hiccups, tired out. I follow the outlines

by Lisa Kwan Written for: The Writer's Tower Theme: Ostrich Pee (April) Deadline: 2nd May 2014 The phone rang while I was on the toilet, and I cursed under my breath. “Can’t a man take a dump in peace?” I muttered, as I hurriedly sprayed some water on my buttocks with the bidet and pulled my shorts up. I considered for a second whether I should wash my hands or get the phone first, but when the phone rang again, I decided on the latter. “Hello?” I answered, breathless from my short sprint from the toilet to the living room. “Pee, my boy! How’s my favourite nephew doing?” my uncle’s booming voice reverberated even through the phone. And I hated that nickname (Pee for P). Of course, my actual name—Purushothaman—wasn’t that much better, but... “You there, Pee? Can you hear me? Pee? PEE?” I blame my parents. “Yeah, I’m here,” I sighed. “Damn this place, lousy reception, can’t even get a decent signal.” I wondered where my uncle was at that moment. He was a w