All the World Drops Dead

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Camille!"

I realize I've been mumbling Sylvia Plath. I take a deep breath and look around. It's all dark and fuzzy at first but soon I begin to see.

Around me are evidence of a plane crash. Pieces of metal still steaming with heat. Luggage. Severed limbs. Blood.

It's beautiful beyond the grounds that are dirtied by signs of the crash. Blue ocean. White sand. Coconut trees. Fruit waiting to be picked.

The voice again, "Camille!"

I ignore it and start to search for survivors but find nothing but limbs that don't have bodies, bodies that don't have faces and soon I scream from frustration.

I scream until the voice comes again. Urgently this time, "Camille!"

I try to locate its source as all world drops dead.