The floor shook beneath her. She was being thrown from side to side, slamming into the walls with a blunt force. She used her hands as a barrier between the wall and her head. Stumbling forward, she reached for the door. Where’s her family? What the hell is going on? The ship rocked tumultuously again, this time stronger.
She finally staggered out of her cabin. She peered down the hallway, people were panicking, being tossed around like a rag doll. Possessions were scattered everywhere. Nothing was safe from the chaos. The first thing she thought of was the Titanic.
We’ve hit an iceberg.
She believed it for a second before realizing how stupid that sounded. Her family was on a cruise ship to the Bermuda, not setting sail in the middle of the Atlantic in April. It was summertime and the water was warm, no icebergs in sight. Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts at once. One second she was laying in her cabin bed, drifting off to sleep. The next, she was hurled off onto the floor. A loud thud sounded, appearing like it was right outside those walls. Her chest tightened, then she ran.
Up the stairs, grabbing onto anything for support as the ship violently protested her movements. She made it up four flights, up into the grand dining room. All the tables were standing, every chair still in place. But the glass plates and chalets were shattered everywhere. The wall to her right was all mirrors. She stared into it, watching her reflection vibrate in the midst of this soon to be tragedy. In the corner of her eye, she spots a waitress.
The waitress did not move, or scream, or even look worried. Her uniform was spotless, not a single blonde hair out of place in her bun. The white button up was crisp under her black vest, revealing a small freckle on her neck just before her shirt. “You should go Sarah.” she spoke to her with a raspy voice.
“I know, so should you.” Sarah replied.
The waitress smiled, the kind of smile that was hidden by sad eyes. “I will.”
With that, the waitress vanished. Sarah went to look into the mirror again, but it had been destroyed within the minute it took to speak with the waitress. She caught a glimpse of herself from a broken shard on the floor. Unlike the waitress, Sarah was dirty, messy, scared. She forced her legs to move against the strength of the boat. Because it was either move and maybe live, or stay and die. Sarah still didn’t know what was happening, but she knew-somehow she just knew- that it would only result in death.
She made it outside, her body flung against the railing of the stern. The impact took the breath out of her stomach. The night sky above was black, not a star in sight. The waves below were even blacker. People were screaming, running.
This really is the Titanic, Sarah thought.
She felt helpless, nothing would save her. This sinking ship was exactly that; it was going down, fast and hard. There was only one thing Sarah had control over. She stepped over the railing, looked down at the churning water beneath her, and she jumped.
***
Sarah woke up with a start, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her breathing was erratic, she clutched the side of her bed tightly. She looked to her right, to the mirror on her wall. Looking back at her was herself, perfectly fine, in her bed in her room. The suitcase on the floor was almost full, only a few items left to put in.
“Sarah, hurry up we need to leave, we’re going to miss our flight!” her mom yelled from downstairs.
Sarah quickly packed the rest of her things, grabbed her purse, and met her mom downstairs. She smiled as her mother burnt the bread in the toaster. She scraped off the char and replaced it with some butter, then handed it to Sarah. Sarah gladly took the food and ate it fervently. Once breakfast was over, she and the rest of her family packed the car and made their way to airport. Sarah began to drift off in the car.
***
She was in an elevator. The walls were shaking, the metal making an ear splitting noise.
No, not this again, Sarah thought.
The elevator doors opened, water seeped into her sneakers. The image produced by the quivering water barely even looked like her. She ran out of the elevator, into the grand dining hall. The mirror on the right was untouched, perfectly intact. Everything was exactly the same; in the corner stood the waitress. She wore the same outfit, had the same coiffed hair.
Sarah spun around, looked at her, and whispered “This can’t happen again. Not again.”
The waitress smiled the same sad eyed smile as before and responded, “But it is.”
***
When Sarah woke up, they were just arriving at the airport. She no longer felt tired, only ready to board the plane. She was restless, jittering her hands against her thigh while going through security. The guards probably thought she was smuggling something in her carry-on from the looks of her fidgeting hands. Her nerves were calmed by the thought of the vacation that awaits her; soft sand and cool waters available to refresh from the smoldering sun, maybe a pina colada or two on the beach. Aboard the plane, Sarah tried to get as comfortable as possible in the small economy seat she had by the window. She always loved to have the window seat, watching the plane take off was one of her favorite festivities when she was young. It was safe to say that it still was, she was enthralled by the gradual ascent into the clouds.
An hour into the flight, Sarah felt the consequence of drinking a large coffee before boarding. She pardoned herself for stepping over her neighbor to reach the aisle and headed toward the back of the plan to the bathroom. The bathroom, equally as small as her seat, shook and rattled her and she attempted to steady herself while washing her hands. She stepped out and accidentally bumped into a flight attendant.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see-”
Sarah’s voice caught in her throat. She was eye level with a dark brown freckle above the attendant’s white button up. She looked up and only saw familiar wisps of blonde hair, neatly tucked up and away from her face. Sarah didn’t need to see her face to know who this woman was. It wasn’t a waitress she was seeing in her dreams, it was a flight attendant.
“But, but how… ?” Sarah stuttered, shaking.
The woman smiled that classic smile that Sarah had seen one too many times. “You should go.” she said.
As soon as she uttered those words, what sounded like an explosion came from the inner working of the plane. It began to shake; shaking harder than the ship from Sarah’s dream. Then, without warning, the plane began to down, sinking faster than any boat in existence.
