Hammock Snapshots are short flash fiction pieces, accompanied by an original illustration that aim to capture a moment, a feeling or a fragment of something without the pressures of longform writing. The series began on Instagram and now also features on our site.

The seatbelt sign dings on again. An announcement asks people not to leave their seats because of turbulence. Then, a sudden dip as though the plane is falling, a collective gasp and a few muffled shouts.

You keep your head pushed back in the seat, letting the sudden motion of the plane wreak havoc with your insides. You are struck by a sudden fear that you will never see your family again, that this job will take everything away from you, that you will be remembered only as a statistic. You see a woman a few rows ahead clutching some sort of idol and reciting a prayer. Further forward, the bony hand of an old lady is being held tightly by her husband from across the aisle. You realize that this is nothing more than a huge aluminium tin, that everyday there are thousands of these journeys where anything could go wrong. that every month you make too many. 

You close your eyes for a second or a minute and the dip suddenly stops. Seconds later, the captain announces that the plane has passed through the turbulence and stabilised, and apologises as the lights come on again. A few cheers, and the cabin crew gradually begin to walk around the plane again. Again you lay your head back on the seat and breathe as deeply as you can, the image of the old couple holding hands imprinted in your mind, somehow beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.