This is the extended version of part one.

One.

A summer’s breeze carved its way through the long grass surrounding a quaint country boarding school and headed towards a sturdy great oak tree that rustled in its reaction to the wind. One particular crinkled, loose leaf was struck by the break of wind and spiraled its way towards the ground, twisting and dancing in the bright midday glare. The leaf landed precariously on the greasy ruffles of a young boy’s brown twisted hair, as he laid against the rugged bark of the tree. Casbian felt the leaf, but decided to let it rest as he was distracted by the departure of his fellow peers for the summer.

Cries of joy and freedom for the holidays ripped their way across the grounds towards him, but he remained emotionless, only staring at those that had paid him very little attention throughout the school year. Distracting himself from his peers, he picked up one of his favorite Wilbur Smith novels and began to flick through the pages for the seventh time that year. It was only through the novels that Casbian could feel the freedom that he desired, the trappings of school life and the obscurity of his family’s home had left Casbian lonesome, and only through books could he really feel at place and sure of what was happening around him.

Bright pictures captured Casbian’s imagination from the adventures of the book, yet he was not completely enticed in the novel as the compression from the Great Oak’s bark rubbing against his back sent pinches of pain through his body. After a few moments, he gave up and tossed the book toward the ground before rising from the grass and stretching out his body to remove the cramp that had built up along his side. He faced the school gates and began to pace his way through the field and out of the school.

Across the street from the school stood an ancient bus stop that Casbian had spent hours sitting under and waiting over the past few days since classes had finished. Graffiti dressed the woodwork of the bus stop and smeared across the bench, but concealed the dust. Casbian took no chances and waited patiently for the bus. He’s wheeled his suitcase across the grass on his way over and it was now splattered with mud – Casbian liked, it felt like home.
The coach pulled up and Casbian onboard, he smiled to the driver and walked down to the back. Falling into on the seat, he closed his eyes and fell deep into his free world of dreams.

It was dark when he woke, the driver shook his shoulder, mentioning something about arriving. With a stretch and a yawn, Casbian grabbed his bags and stumbled down the coach and headed toward the airport. He was one of many figures in the crowd, nothing special about him, no redeeming features. Moving through security swiftly, Casbian rushed for the boarding platform. This had become a custom to him, the consistent travel back and forth was merely a routine by now.

The wheels of the plane lifted the passengers into the air, darting into the night sky, headed toward South America. Still stuck in his own world, Casbian drifted back towards his dreams. Ideas of freedom and nature filled his mind. The smell of the woods drifted through his head. The breeze slammed his face. It was only in his darkest sleep that Casbian felt most alive.

A thud hit plane. His head slammed up in shock. The pilot’s voice yelled over the speaker.

BRACE. BRACE YOURSELF.

A piercing crack ripped along the center. A scream from the seat behind cried out. Casbian clung to his backpack and sat, bracing himself. A force of wind hit into Casbian, the plane was tearing apart.

And then, like that, the world went dark.

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Thank you for taking the time to read. I really enjoy creative writing and I love to hear what you think!

My name is Max. I am a 18 year old student living in Vancouver.