I woke up to blood on my face. My head hurt and I could barely get up. I got up and I looked around; the plane crashed. I was flying back home from college to visit my family and now I couldn’t because of what is happening right now. I immediately start crying because no one else that was on the plane was alive. Except me.

Minutes later, I scream for help. I don’t know what to do, or what to think. “Help! Help!” a low voice screams.

I run over. The wing of the plane covers both of his legs. Maybe I wasn’t the only one alive after all. I go over to lift up the wing, and I help him up. “Are you okay? There’s blood on your face,” he says.

“Umm I can’t really feel it but I’m okay,” I reply.

“I’m Brandon by the way,” he says.

“I’m Calli.”

He goes over to the other side of the demolished plane. He runs over to the radio, but it’s completely destroyed. “Hey,” I say, “what’s that over there? There’s a house!”

“We must get there before dark. That’s the only way we’ll get out of here alive,” he says. I didn’t even admire the nature near me. There was a giant mountain, nothing like I have seen before. It was so pretty, and I wish I had my phone to take pictures.

Nearly an hour later, we arrive at the house. “Looks like we’re staying here until we get back home,” Brandon states. He had dark brown hair similar to mine, but he had green eyes.

“So where are you from?” I ask.

“Connecticut.”

“Oh, me too!” I say. He just shrugs. It soon turns dark and I sleep in the upstairs bed and he sleeps on the couch. It was a small house, so there wasn’t really any room.

It was probably 1:00 in the morning. I heard a banging. I sprinted downstairs and someone stood there. He was holding Brandon like his hands were handcuffed. “What are you doing?” I ask.

The man replies. “This is my house!” He yells. He takes us outside and he closes his door. What are we going to do now?

Finish the rest of the story in the comments! Be creative and be descriptive!