The young pilot was taking his first flight that took him out of the area and he decided he was going to leave the snow and harsh weather.  For only 16, he was incredibly experienced, flying before he could walk. His dad was an Air Force pilot, and a heavily decorated one too.  He had flown in Vietnam, patrolling the North Vietnamese skies in a F-4 Phantom.  As dangerous as that job, he always managed to come home to his boy and from an early age taught him how to fly.  The second he turned 14 he got his pilot's license and began flying all over the Northern parts of the midwest. He had flown everywhere and eventually got bored of the area and after a long fight, he finally got approval to fly down south and spend a weekend in Florida. He would refuel in Tennessee, then continue his flight to Pensacola, and then repeat two days later, heading back home. There were some mountains but he could fly over them and they would not present much of a challenge.

     The pilot was fighting the weather and his plane. It was a losing battle. His flight path took him right through a bad storm and it was an uphill battle in the small Cessna. It was a beautiful ship, but too light for a storm of this magnitude.  The radio had been in a dull static ever since the massive storm clouds had snuck up on him. A commercial planes radio could power through, but the Cessna’s was not nearly as powerful. The storm was raging around him. The sky was a dark gray. He could not see much past his c***pit and the wind would whip up and nearly flip the plane over.  The altimeter was dropping fast. If the storm does not calm soon, the pilot would either run out of fuel or be forced into the side of an unseen mountain. The altimeter was spinning fast, the decrease in altitude going to fast to count.

     The boy started to feel the nose dip and he was losing control. He was pulling up with all his strength.   The tail of the plane started to spin as the nose of the plane pointed straight down. The inside of the c***pit started to scream and lights were going off the dash board blinking red. The boy was nearing a black out from the dive and the picture of his dad and his legacy in an F-4 stared into him as he tried to fight the blackness, losing and the darkness tugged him closer and closer as he clawed away.