Note: I was inspired to write this story from a writing prompt in my seventh grade English class. Keep your eyes and ears open, writers!
P.S.: Comments and criticisms are very welcome!
Five planes soared over the barren landscape. Part of the elite Blue Angel squadron, this mission was no ordinary event. They had been ordered to make a reconnaissance flight over the ice-scarred landscape of Greenland. Then it was Danish territory, and one that they wanted to keep, for obvious reasons.
The excursion had been . . . uneventful, to say the least. They had expected to encounter one or two German U-boats, at least, while they were traversing the Atlantic. But, to their disbelief, they had not.
Just as they were about to complete their rotation and circle back a crack echoed over the snow. Suddenly, one plane went down. Another followed. The pilots struggled to avoid the mysterious adversaries they now faced.
The third of the group went down, gliding down until it hit the water with a small explosion, then disappeared into the dark depths. The plane to the pilot’s right was riddled with small bullet holes, and soon began to descend rapidly into the ocean, never satisfied.
Finally, he felt himself going down. Too many times had the craft been hit, and now it began to nose dive toward the deep, and soon all five of the aircraft had plunged into the black-tinted ocean.
And then, all was silent.