Ritchie Valens Plane Crash Novels & Stories

And that was worth everything. Worth eleven lives. Worth our souls. Worth becoming the villains of someone else's story. For family. Always for family. No matter the cost. My phone buzzed one final time. News alert: BREAKING: Small aircraft crashes off California coast. No survivors expected. "It's on the news already," I told Marissa. "Christopher Jr.'s plane." "Good. Let the world know. Let anyone else thinking about coming for us see what happens to our enemies." She picked up Michael carefully, started carrying him to bed. "I'm going to put him down, feed the girls, then sleep for about twelve hours."

Then Jax remembered that scorched, half-burned passport. He opened his eyes, pulled out his phone, and opened a search engine, deciding to start with the most straightforward approach. He typed in “Keith” and “plane crash,” then hit enter. A few news articles popped up instantly. He clicked on one and carefully read the contents. It had been an international flight returning to Elfhedge. Shortly after takeoff, the plane had suddenly lost power and nosedived into a mountain ravine. The crash killed all 63 passengers and crew members onboard. Keith had been one of them.

I am going to die. "We going to die... Did we crash into something?" I whisper out "It’s just turbulence" someone says "The hell it is... When a plane is crashing do you think they would tell us?" I ask "Did you know Orville Wright was the first person to crash a powered aircraft in 1908. He injured himself, a co-inventor and the passenger?" I ask “I did not know that, no…” I hear a man say Too scared to open my eyes I ignore the pull my body has to look at him.

"Shocking news tonight. A private jet belonging to the CEO of Vance Group, Ryder Vance, reported lost contact and exploded over the Atlantic Ocean a few hours ago. International search and rescue teams state that there are no signs of life or survivors found among the wreckage..." CRASH! The glass of water on the nightstand that my mother had just filled fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. "W-what..." My chest felt as if it had been struck by a giant sledgehammer. The three of us stared in sheer horror at the screen, which showed amateur footage from afar; the burning, destroyed wreckage of the plane floating in the middle of the dark ocean. "Dad... am I hearing things?" I whispered,

“You’ve been a distraction long enough.” Tears burned in my eyes as the weight of his words settled over me. I was being cast aside, discarded like I meant nothing. And maybe, to them, I didn’t. Reed reentered the cabin, his expression conflicted as he glanced between me and Pedro. “The plane's ready,” he said quietly. “But only for one passenger.” Pedro’s gaze bore into mine, unyielding and final. “Go, Valentina. Leave this world behind before it destroys you.”

he said and dragged me again. All my life I have only tried first class plane rides, I never thought that riding first class and riding a private plane had so much difference. I slept like a baby the entire flight and felt so refreshed. The moment we arrived at their house in Ireland, Valerius and some of the men immediately left to save Salvy and Enzo. I did not insist on joining them because I know that our skills are not yet good enough to be useful to them. The four of us agreed to train more after this ordeal so that we can be useful in the future.

> “Elijah Vale is dead.” That was what they said. That was what the news screamed. All over the country, people heard it. Rich boy. Private jet. No survivors. The whole plane burned in the sky. Gone. Just like that. And I stood there, in my black suit, under the gray clouds, holding a black umbrella that couldn’t stop the rain or my hands from shaking. I didn’t cry. I wanted to. I wanted to fall to the ground and scream. But my body didn’t move. My face stayed still, like stone. People came up to me, whispering sorry, hugging me like I was breakable.

It was discovered that the plane was operating as a Mile High Club service, a flying orgy for wealthy businessmen. One member of the gentleman's club hadn't been on the flight. Larry Wilson, a psychologist with a fear of flying in small planes had backed out at the last minute when he saw the converted party jet. He watched it crash from the back seat of the waiting limo where one of the ladies had stayed behind with him to give him his own special party. The young woman lost her best friend that night. Having been abducted herself and forced to work as a prostitute by the men who ran the parties, she was sufficiently paranoid about her own limited life expectancy she used the chaos to slip

She had not even gotten a hold of her own emotions when she suddenly heard the female anchor report regretfully, “As of 9 PM last night, a flight to Glendale airport fell into F Country’s waters due to an unknown issue ten minutes after take-off. Of the 112 flight attendants, pilots, and passengers, 111 have been confirmed dead while one is still missing. Investigation shows that the missing passenger is the young master of the number one family, Jeremy Whitman…” Madeline’s mind blanked the moment she heard Jeremy’s name. Madeline was deaf to anything else the female anchor spoke. All she knew was that the flight Jeremy took had fallen into the water and everyone had died while he was still

The Curse on his arm flared, the red veins turning white hot. Jack screamed. He pushed. He became the bridge between the falling prison and the fleeing bird. With a final, explosive shove, the Valkyrie shot forward. It smashed through the jammed hangar doors, shredding metal like paper. Jack was thrown backward by the recoil, tumbling inside the cargo hold just as the ramp closed. The jet plummeted. "Pull up!" everyone screamed. Finch pulled the stick back. The Valkyrie skimmed the surface of the Pacific Ocean, the wheels dipping into the waves, creating a spray of white foam.