I'm hit. I have no idea where that came forth now, but it was in any case a winner. the wind blows cold and biting my face into the glass canopy was also swept away as the rudder, the left wing and parts of the fuselage fairing, rudderless is my single seater screaming through the clouds and the earth is accelerating toward me.
I roll over me suggest, try some extent the conditions actually hold, nothing works. ? Off fail indication, my only hope is river that flows through the middle of the town half destroyed, if I strike the right angle and it is deep enough, I have maybe a chance to survive.
share away burst of the engine, sprayed hot oil into my face, it burns and stinks, I rush to the river, split seconds until impact, I close my eyes pinching the ass cheeks together scream my lungs out, I claw with feet and hands in the cockpit set, plop!
it pushes me deep and hard in the seat, the machine makes the water flat on the belly side, half submerged no meter, and then again thrown up, as this was the only waters a trampoline, running.
I open my eyes, jump past the cathedral's twin towers half-destroyed, still ended up in the cockpit abundance, injected into the water.
the burgundy red sky reflected on the calm water, I stay in the floating wreck sitting, drifting slowly and peacefully through the city down the river, it is boiling hot and there is war all around me. I'm sweating.
raise black skyscraper ruins again and again against the light, partly obscured by thick clouds of smoke tremble under occasionally impacting grenades, some crumbling at the sides, others collapse completely.
armed men running through the streets, shooting look, cover, shall not be and shot, die dramatic death in the middle of the road, the body's rear up glow in and bullets, throw guns away and dozens see war photographers from the hotel window, as they the international breakthrough with the picture of the year by the overlap is because they have exchanged their entire photo equipment long ago for prostitution and the cell phone camera does not have a telephoto lens has.
I remain relatively unconcerned, with a crisp "klannnnng!" occasionally durschlägt a ricochet the hull of my machine and I duck then one little deeper into the cockpit, otherwise I still drifting quietly on the water, watching the scenes around me cringe as close to the river an airplane crashes into a building.
I turn off my head, behold, on the other bank of an observed small piles of rubble in the middle of the battle on three elderly men, two in brown and one in white uniform
while the little brown gesticulating violently, the white to fight through binoculars and the reflective instruments in the cockpit, I see my face be bright green, as he takes the glass from the eye and I know Adolf Hitler in the corner of his eye. what's he doing there?
told him no, that this thing is long gone? is not be any war, and why is out here anyway? why he is not shot by the other, not even considered? had he not said to have shot himself long ago?
I drive past him and got him almost out of sight as the squirrel with the huge, glowing fiery red tail, which has tucked all the time already on the roof of the adjacent house, the officer's feet suddenly jumps nimbly his left leg climbs and the biting deep into his acorn. he cries out, a dark red blood stains spread quickly on the white pants, he goes to ground, tried it in the squirrel fall with the binoculars to kill, but missed.
slowly I seem to leave town, it is much cooler, the colored sky increasingly purple, the battles are weaker and I swim on a large delta, where to flow into the sea lead appears before my plane abruptly once stuck .
the water seems to be chocolate icing covered with a thick, I get off the shot-up aircraft fuselage and try to be careful with the toe of the check stand.
I sink actually a not, there must be a solid, not too moist chocolate cake act, since the founding of inexplicable under the glaze fills the river bed and only now I realize how hungry I actually now am.
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