Eight to Gabhan

Part One

Sorcsha Gabhan’s body always stirred before her mind did when waking. And this time was no exception. She stretched her toes one by one, as usual. Yet this time they felt oddly restricted, also her feet hurt, as they had in the marathon the past year. Though, her groggy brain was still too tired to be bothered with this, until she fully awoke. She winced at a surprise pain in her right arm, as she stretched it in an attempt to rally. Deciding that she must have slept on her arm wrong, she tried turning over. But that too felt difficult. Squirming about, Sorcsha realized that she was not laying down at all, but her body was only reclining slightly.
For some people, waking up in a reclining position, would not be a worrisome thought. But to those who do not own a recliner, a hammock, or even a chez lounge, waking up in such a way would be a little disorienting. Sorcsha was the latter, and waking up this way was indeed very disorienting. Enough so that, her brain snapped to, much the way a drunk sobers at the moment of an emergency. She opened glassy eyes to the sight of rows of blue seats. As her vision sharpened blurry outlines of tops of heads, hats and random arms became clear. “I must still be dreaming” she thought trying to make sense of what she couldn’t. Many voices that once sounded like a roaring engine, now departed company into many different conversations.
Pressure around her waist grew as she tried to sit up. Looking down she saw a safety belt fastened in her lap. A nail of pain drove itself into Sorscha’s head as her brain tried to resolve the amount of information it had received in very few seconds. Why couldn’t she think? What was this pain she felt over her whole body? “And why are you on a plane?” her brain finally chimed in. Terror gripped her stomach as confusion racked her mind. “A plane…?”, echoed.
Sorcsha Examined the belt around her waist with a heavy left hand, she pulled back on the clip and heard a click as the belt unfastened. Her body felt as if it were tied to sand bags. She turned chin first to her right, coming nose to nose with a strange snoring man. She leaned her head away, as she tried to find any thing familiar in this mans face. His clear, sun weathered skin still held its youthful charm, while a scar interrupted freckles on his left cheek. His pale brown eyelashes fluttered as he snored through is nose. She looked down at the hand on the arm rest, the white scars that littered his knuckles, were made more evident by the contrasting charcoal sleeve of his suit. There was nothing familiar about this man not his face not his suit, nothing. As she stared at this man in confusion, he grimaced and threw his right hand towards her as he clasped hard onto her wrist. Pain sprouted in many places along her arm. She watched, too scared to move as the man writhed in his seat still holding her wrist.
The stranger settled with a sigh and resumed snoring once more. His grip loosened on Sorcsha, and she took the chance to slowly free her wrist. While gently letting his hand back down to the arm rest, she caught a glance of the dial of his watch, where near the top she read MON.