Flying snakes

Bolts of lightning streak and crackle through the darkening sky. I check my instruments and decide to climb. Hopefully it won’t get too rough.

From above the clouds, I see the flashes of light appear and fade away. Up ahead a swirl points to the centre of the storm. I resist temptation for about 1.5 seconds before pointing the nose to the edge of the eye and head straight in.

200 feet from the vortex, the shaking in the steering wheel tells me I’m losing control. A smile breaks on to my face. I love these things.

My ship starts vibrating roughly as the screen goes black. The wind is sucking me further and further in to the maelstrom. I haven’t done this in a while so I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this properly.

My altimeter says 700 feet left before splat. Which at this rate is about 8 seconds.

I burst through the clouds in the middle of a lightning strike. Beautiful. But something else catches my eye. What the hell is it? A prison camp?

I have to pull up. Damn!

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