It was a small plane, a Cessna 406—a bushplane—and the engine was so loud, so roaring and, elevation above sea level or above the earth's surface, He had never flown in a single-engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for, He had never flown in a single engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for altitude, jerking and sliding on the wind, But in five minutes they had leveled off at six thousand feet and headed northwest and from then on the pilot had been silent, staring out the front, and the, pass gradually or leak or as if through small openings, Instead his eyes burned and tears came, the, On the dashboard in front of him Brian saw the dials, switches, meters, knobs, levers, cranks, lights, handles that were wiggling and flickering, all, He leaned over and lifted the headset off his right ear and put it on his temple, yelling to, move obliquely or sideways, usually in an uncontrolled way, a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation, But the pilot had put his headset back on and the, a vast treeless plain where subsoil is permanently frozen, He was working in the oil fields of Canada, up on the tree line where the, uninterrupted in time and indefinitely long continuing, Now there was a constant odor, and Brian took another look at the pilot, found him rubbing the shoulder and down the arm now, the left arm, letting go more gas and, a small ax with a short handle used with one hand, And he would normally have said no, would normally have said no that it looked too, contort the face to indicate a certain mental state, Brian turned again to glance at the pilot who had both hands on his stomach and was, a painful and involuntary muscular contraction, an instrument that measures the height above ground, Down beneath that were dials with lines that seemed to indicate what the winds were doing, tipping or moving, and one dial with a needle pointing to the number 70, which he thought—only thought—might be the, He had seen the pilot use it, had seen him, He felt like a prisoner, kept in a small cell that was, a valve that regulates the supply of fuel to the engine, Pulling until his hands caught at weeds and muck, pulling and screaming until his hands caught at last in grass and brush and he felt his chest on land, felt his face in the, When he opened them again it was evening and some of the sharp pain had, deep and harsh sounding as if from shouting or illness, His forehead felt massively swollen to the touch, almost like a mound out over his eyes, and it was so tender that when his fingers, a small part remaining after the main part no longer exists, With it came some warmth, small bits of it at first, and with the heat came clouds of insects—thick, swarming, intense feelings of suffering; acute mental or physical pain, In the end he sat with the windbreaker pulled up, brushed with his hands and took it, almost crying in frustration and, confusion characterized by lack of clarity, Brian watched them for a time, still in the half-, Created on February 22, 2013 "/>
It was a small plane, a Cessna 406—a bushplane—and the engine was so loud, so roaring and, elevation above sea level or above the earth's surface, He had never flown in a single-engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for, He had never flown in a single engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for altitude, jerking and sliding on the wind, But in five minutes they had leveled off at six thousand feet and headed northwest and from then on the pilot had been silent, staring out the front, and the, pass gradually or leak or as if through small openings, Instead his eyes burned and tears came, the, On the dashboard in front of him Brian saw the dials, switches, meters, knobs, levers, cranks, lights, handles that were wiggling and flickering, all, He leaned over and lifted the headset off his right ear and put it on his temple, yelling to, move obliquely or sideways, usually in an uncontrolled way, a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation, But the pilot had put his headset back on and the, a vast treeless plain where subsoil is permanently frozen, He was working in the oil fields of Canada, up on the tree line where the, uninterrupted in time and indefinitely long continuing, Now there was a constant odor, and Brian took another look at the pilot, found him rubbing the shoulder and down the arm now, the left arm, letting go more gas and, a small ax with a short handle used with one hand, And he would normally have said no, would normally have said no that it looked too, contort the face to indicate a certain mental state, Brian turned again to glance at the pilot who had both hands on his stomach and was, a painful and involuntary muscular contraction, an instrument that measures the height above ground, Down beneath that were dials with lines that seemed to indicate what the winds were doing, tipping or moving, and one dial with a needle pointing to the number 70, which he thought—only thought—might be the, He had seen the pilot use it, had seen him, He felt like a prisoner, kept in a small cell that was, a valve that regulates the supply of fuel to the engine, Pulling until his hands caught at weeds and muck, pulling and screaming until his hands caught at last in grass and brush and he felt his chest on land, felt his face in the, When he opened them again it was evening and some of the sharp pain had, deep and harsh sounding as if from shouting or illness, His forehead felt massively swollen to the touch, almost like a mound out over his eyes, and it was so tender that when his fingers, a small part remaining after the main part no longer exists, With it came some warmth, small bits of it at first, and with the heat came clouds of insects—thick, swarming, intense feelings of suffering; acute mental or physical pain, In the end he sat with the windbreaker pulled up, brushed with his hands and took it, almost crying in frustration and, confusion characterized by lack of clarity, Brian watched them for a time, still in the half-, Created on February 22, 2013 ">
It was a small plane, a Cessna 406—a bushplane—and the engine was so loud, so roaring and, elevation above sea level or above the earth's surface, He had never flown in a single-engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for, He had never flown in a single engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for altitude, jerking and sliding on the wind, But in five minutes they had leveled off at six thousand feet and headed northwest and from then on the pilot had been silent, staring out the front, and the, pass gradually or leak or as if through small openings, Instead his eyes burned and tears came, the, On the dashboard in front of him Brian saw the dials, switches, meters, knobs, levers, cranks, lights, handles that were wiggling and flickering, all, He leaned over and lifted the headset off his right ear and put it on his temple, yelling to, move obliquely or sideways, usually in an uncontrolled way, a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation, But the pilot had put his headset back on and the, a vast treeless plain where subsoil is permanently frozen, He was working in the oil fields of Canada, up on the tree line where the, uninterrupted in time and indefinitely long continuing, Now there was a constant odor, and Brian took another look at the pilot, found him rubbing the shoulder and down the arm now, the left arm, letting go more gas and, a small ax with a short handle used with one hand, And he would normally have said no, would normally have said no that it looked too, contort the face to indicate a certain mental state, Brian turned again to glance at the pilot who had both hands on his stomach and was, a painful and involuntary muscular contraction, an instrument that measures the height above ground, Down beneath that were dials with lines that seemed to indicate what the winds were doing, tipping or moving, and one dial with a needle pointing to the number 70, which he thought—only thought—might be the, He had seen the pilot use it, had seen him, He felt like a prisoner, kept in a small cell that was, a valve that regulates the supply of fuel to the engine, Pulling until his hands caught at weeds and muck, pulling and screaming until his hands caught at last in grass and brush and he felt his chest on land, felt his face in the, When he opened them again it was evening and some of the sharp pain had, deep and harsh sounding as if from shouting or illness, His forehead felt massively swollen to the touch, almost like a mound out over his eyes, and it was so tender that when his fingers, a small part remaining after the main part no longer exists, With it came some warmth, small bits of it at first, and with the heat came clouds of insects—thick, swarming, intense feelings of suffering; acute mental or physical pain, In the end he sat with the windbreaker pulled up, brushed with his hands and took it, almost crying in frustration and, confusion characterized by lack of clarity, Brian watched them for a time, still in the half-, Created on February 22, 2013 ">
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The house began burning, and Thomas returned, causing the teens to flee. Marc Savlov from Austin Chronicle gave the film 3 1/2 out of 5 stars, praising the film's "quippy dialogue", orchestral score, and gore effects. Beat your last streak, or best your overall time.

It was a small plane, a Cessna 406—a bushplane—and the engine was so loud, so roaring and, elevation above sea level or above the earth's surface, He had never flown in a single-engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for, He had never flown in a single engine plane before and to be sitting in the copilot’s seat with all the controls right there in front of him, all the instruments in his face as the plane clawed for altitude, jerking and sliding on the wind, But in five minutes they had leveled off at six thousand feet and headed northwest and from then on the pilot had been silent, staring out the front, and the, pass gradually or leak or as if through small openings, Instead his eyes burned and tears came, the, On the dashboard in front of him Brian saw the dials, switches, meters, knobs, levers, cranks, lights, handles that were wiggling and flickering, all, He leaned over and lifted the headset off his right ear and put it on his temple, yelling to, move obliquely or sideways, usually in an uncontrolled way, a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation, But the pilot had put his headset back on and the, a vast treeless plain where subsoil is permanently frozen, He was working in the oil fields of Canada, up on the tree line where the, uninterrupted in time and indefinitely long continuing, Now there was a constant odor, and Brian took another look at the pilot, found him rubbing the shoulder and down the arm now, the left arm, letting go more gas and, a small ax with a short handle used with one hand, And he would normally have said no, would normally have said no that it looked too, contort the face to indicate a certain mental state, Brian turned again to glance at the pilot who had both hands on his stomach and was, a painful and involuntary muscular contraction, an instrument that measures the height above ground, Down beneath that were dials with lines that seemed to indicate what the winds were doing, tipping or moving, and one dial with a needle pointing to the number 70, which he thought—only thought—might be the, He had seen the pilot use it, had seen him, He felt like a prisoner, kept in a small cell that was, a valve that regulates the supply of fuel to the engine, Pulling until his hands caught at weeds and muck, pulling and screaming until his hands caught at last in grass and brush and he felt his chest on land, felt his face in the, When he opened them again it was evening and some of the sharp pain had, deep and harsh sounding as if from shouting or illness, His forehead felt massively swollen to the touch, almost like a mound out over his eyes, and it was so tender that when his fingers, a small part remaining after the main part no longer exists, With it came some warmth, small bits of it at first, and with the heat came clouds of insects—thick, swarming, intense feelings of suffering; acute mental or physical pain, In the end he sat with the windbreaker pulled up, brushed with his hands and took it, almost crying in frustration and, confusion characterized by lack of clarity, Brian watched them for a time, still in the half-, Created on February 22, 2013

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