01

“Nobody move,” The gunman holds up his gun, before leaving the plane aisle. The flight attendants try to calm down the other passengers. I know I should start panicking like the others, but I know better. I scramble for my pen and paper, brushing the hair out of my face; blocking out the screams of anxious riders. I look out the window, seeing the city come closer, at a faster rate than we has been flying. He’s going to make us crash into the Sydney Tower, but instead of bringing that to anybody’s attention, I stay quiet and write; doing something useful in my last minutes. "Dear Luke,"