Richard
Final Approach
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2005
- Messages
- 9,076
- Location
- West Coast Resistance
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Ack...city life
...that's when he saw the hole. It had always been there. Not always, in the sense that it is a permanent thing, a thing to be counted on to be used at leisure, but always there in that it was there when he needed it. And he needed it now...that thing about all things being relative...Einstein was right, relative to his need the hole has always been there. The hole was there now, just as he needed it to be there.
The regs on minimum cloud separation be damned, he's gonna' climb right up through that hole and get on top. Being on top meant he was not below that ragged ass overcast layer, caught between the jagged peaks and the overlying cloud layer, caught in a half daylight filtered down through a semi-opaque cloud. It meant he was not in the bumps getting bruised by the turbulence, it meant he didn't have to worry any longer about the rising terrain which, in a few miles more, would climb right into the clouds. It meant he didn't have to worry about being put into the corner of THE BOX. It also meant he could now enjoy the unbroken panorama of being above the overcast and, being there, he could slow down his thoughts as he enjoyed basking in the glorious sunshine.
That is the thing about being PIC, Pilot in command. It would be his ass on the line to ensure the safety of his flight. No rule could accomplish that. Why the hell is the rule there anyway? It must be the lawyers. Lawyers love this kind of ****. Makes them feel needed, he guessed. Nevermind, he felt good now; the clouds and any rocks they hid were now safely below him. By climbing through that forbidden cloud-hole he had actually improved the safe conduit of his flight, as actual as his busting the regulation about flying too close to clouds.
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The above is excerpted from a rough draft of a short story I am writing. Never mind that, the subject of this post is not for literary critique. However, if from what I have written you can develop a sense of being there, would you do as the story suggests?
The regs on minimum cloud separation be damned, he's gonna' climb right up through that hole and get on top. Being on top meant he was not below that ragged ass overcast layer, caught between the jagged peaks and the overlying cloud layer, caught in a half daylight filtered down through a semi-opaque cloud. It meant he was not in the bumps getting bruised by the turbulence, it meant he didn't have to worry any longer about the rising terrain which, in a few miles more, would climb right into the clouds. It meant he didn't have to worry about being put into the corner of THE BOX. It also meant he could now enjoy the unbroken panorama of being above the overcast and, being there, he could slow down his thoughts as he enjoyed basking in the glorious sunshine.
That is the thing about being PIC, Pilot in command. It would be his ass on the line to ensure the safety of his flight. No rule could accomplish that. Why the hell is the rule there anyway? It must be the lawyers. Lawyers love this kind of ****. Makes them feel needed, he guessed. Nevermind, he felt good now; the clouds and any rocks they hid were now safely below him. By climbing through that forbidden cloud-hole he had actually improved the safe conduit of his flight, as actual as his busting the regulation about flying too close to clouds.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The above is excerpted from a rough draft of a short story I am writing. Never mind that, the subject of this post is not for literary critique. However, if from what I have written you can develop a sense of being there, would you do as the story suggests?