Paul Price was excited. A recently discharged fighter pilot, he did not expect to be employed so soon. And who would hire him, but the business tycoon, Lance Turner? His first duty was to fly Mr Turner, his family and secretary to Rome in a private jet. After a slow take-off, Paul was bored. The empty sky, silence and lack of action depressed him. Then, he realized that somebody was flying beside him. Ah! It was a huge eagle. He flew a little low, but the eagle quickly caught on. Then, Paul moved higher up and flew in a zigzag manner. The eagle looked impressed, but still followed him. Then, the flight embarked on a series of somersaults. At last, the eagle was nowhere to be found.
They had to land in Charlotte for fuel. So, Paul came out to inform his passengers. Lance Turner’s mother was fervently murmuring something, her hand on the rosary. Turner’s teenage son was looking ecstatic and his daughter was crying. The secretary, her spectacles on the floor, clutched her front seat with a glassy expression. Mr Turner was the only calm passenger. Now he addressed Paul with a cold precision.
“Mr Price, a word with you.”
The above was written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.