The storm had come out of nowhere, pouring rain quickly turned to hail. Hal and I could barely keep the plane under control.

Our radar and sensors were shot, static filled the radio. The plane rattled about horribly, turbulence rough as the waters below us.

Lydia, one of the stewardesses, walked into the cockpit right before a strong tempest hit us hard. The plane dipped, nose down towards the sea.

I learned later she hit her head as we fell and didn’t make it out.

We didn’t have time to pull up, the storm fought us. The plane hit the water nose first.

Glass shattered instantly on impact and water flooded in. It was so cold, I sucked it in before I was able to prepare myself.

You know, they tell you that when you know you’re dying, your life flashes before your eyes. That a wave of peace settles over you.

Not in my experience, it was cold, and dark, and I was scared. Water in your lungs hurts, drowning hurts.

I remember my eyes fluttering shut, or it could of been the water getting deeper and darker. My body burning and thrashing as I swallowed the sea. The terrifying thumping in my head knowing I was going to die, that I was dying.

And then light, a face, and I was spitting up water.

Two freaking years later on fishing boat, a mere twenty clicks from where the plane crashed. I don’t remember anything in between, what felt like a moment, had been years.

They don’t believe me, and I understand, how could they. It’s unbelievable, maybe I blocked it out. But I know they searched long and hard for me, and there was never was a glimpse.

Perhaps the secret lies where that plane dipped into the sea, right smack middle in the Bermuda Triangle.