Hell S.D.

I’m in the plane from Hong Kong to Paris. It’s the third time this month that I’m aboard one of those frightening mechanical birds.

I’m drunk as fuck.

I remember taking the ferry from Macau to the Hong Kong airport no more than 2 hours ago but the rest is gone, not one ounce of memory.

Again.

What happened?

I remember being in the crowd worrying, hoping everything was fine, as usual. But the truth is, my friend, I felt like in a cage. People. My heart pounding and pounding.

I’ve always felt that way. Alcohol was the only solution, till now. A filthy one, true, but one that works. Or I should say, used to work… Let me take some pills.

But I’m in the plane now. And I want to land in Paris. I really want to. I know she will be waiting for me, pretending that nothing happened.

I really want to, but something is going terribly wrong. I can feel it I can feel the dark energy in the plane rushing through all those seats. The tall woman next to me has fingers so slender that I want to bite in them and she is piercing a piece of carrot with that piece of plastic appliance that is the characteristic of cheap flight companies and she forces me to look at the window in disgust but here I see dancing flames coming out of the engine and it explodes like a burning sun and millions of crows are pouring out of the aisle like baby spiders coming out of their mother stomach and my ears ring so hard that I grab the knife of the tall woman and leave my seat slowly.