I’m not sure how long it’s been since my first time posting my dilemma, but in case it has been a while, here’s a link to my first explanation.
I wish I could say things have gotten better, but they (rather unfortunately) have not. Instead, the lights have come back on. And you know, usually I’d say that’s a good thing, but this time is certainly not one of those moments. That would be because of the wretched smell coming from, ohidunno - everywhere? I literally cannot pinpoint where. Beyond that, there are incoherent whispers and violent scratching sounds coming from every-which-way.
I honestly can’t for the life of me remember how it even happened. One moment it was hissing and hysterically laughing, the next minute I’m here. How long has it been? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Who knows? I’m not even sure that this will post.
Anyway, I hope to God whatever this thing is will go away soon. My phone is at 6%, I think it’s going to die soon. I have no charger and no food, either.
Someone just tapped me on the shoulder.
There is literally no one here. I mean literally no one. And, what’s worse, it came from the side of me facing the window.
It was a few minutes and the tapping got aggressive. Almost like I was being punched. And, just when I thought it had stopped, it punched me square in the face.
“Fuck!”
I recoiled back, but I could already feel my face getting warm and my nose running, almost certainly with blood.
I decided I would walk around the plane because, frankly, I don’t like getting punched in the face by an invisible force. And, oh boy, what I found in that plane will scar me for life.
I walked to the back, praying this plane of death at least brought food - even if it was stale.
But instead, I found the dead bodies of the crew. Gruesomely murdered. I guess it never thought I’d go looking. But these were probably where the putrid smell was coming from. I mean, seriously, the bodies had no eyes, and their jaws had been cut out, throats slit, horrible things I wouldn’t even wish on my boss.
The next conversation I had with it went a little like this:
“Oh, I see you found my friends!” it hissed in my ear.
“Wh-why did you kill them - or uh why are they dead like this?”
“Well why did you get up? That just seems like a stupid decision a tired movie writer makes. You’re not a character, are you?”
It laughed, and it felt so personal for a reason I can’t even explain.
“Well, I have free will, don’t I?”
“I don’t know, do you?”
“Of course I do! Uh- I just didn’t wanna get punched in the face again. That hurt, by the way!”
“If you say so! And, sorry, I wanted you to meet my friends, and that was the easiest way! They’re pretty nice, don’t you think”
“No, I don’t think so. They’re fucking dead, why would I think that’s nice?”
“You’re sour, aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m stuck on this goddamn plane, trying to see my girlfriend, staring at dead bodies, with that incessant scratching on the walls! It’s practically torture here!”
“Oh, poor Vincent”
It was at that moment; I was done there. I went up to the front of the plane, and I was either going to fly this plane to the airport or die trying. The cockpit was (surprisingly) unlocked, and for the matter it was wide open. No one was in the cockpit. Like, I would have expected the dead bodies of pilots, but not even that was there.
I work in a car factory in Texas. I know how mechanics work on some vehicles, but I felt overwhelmed at the plane. It was no longer dark outside, though, so I could at least see. But for god’s sake, this plane needs to have its windows washed.
There was a cupholder next to my seat. I wish it wasn’t there, because inside it was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
See, when I was a dumb teenager, I smoked. A lot. My mom had died, and I needed a way to cope. I put them down when I started dating my girlfriend 3 years ago, though. I haven’t even looked at a pack since, but right now it felt like it was calling to me.
I don’t like to smoke. It’s gross. But right there I picked up a cigarette and lit it. I felt horrible, but it was eerily relaxing. I smoked for a little bit, but by the time I was done, I couldn’t even see through the window.
I tried clearing the smoke out, but it just came back even stronger, so I gave up. I’m going to have to fly this plane with all this junk. I threw on the headset and started calling out for help. No reply, of course.
How the fuck am I supposed to land this plane?
And, right when I thought that a familiar voice yelled at me from behind.
“Honey, why did you smoke? I never would have let you do that!”
“Mom?”
“Why don’t you come here and hug me? It’s been so long!”
If you’ve been paying attention, my mom is dead. She’s been dead since I was 14. Literally 13 years ago. I really, really wish I could hug her, but I don’t think it’s actually her.
“Mom, you’re dead.”
“Oh? Says who? I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I? Come on, sweetheart, just turn around and look at me”
“You left me. Why the fuck would I wanna look at you?”
I could feel the hot tears silently streaming down my face.
“I never left, I’ve been watching you every day, now turn around and come here.”
“Bull shit.”
I slammed the door behind me, making sure not to look back. I locked it immediately. I broke down and fell to the ground. my face burning and completely wet from tears.
Whatever that thing is, it’s banging on the door begging me to open it. It barely even resembles my mother’s voice anymore. It’s husky and aggressive. But it still has her intonation. It’s creepy and I’m scared. I miss my mother, and that thing knows it.
I’m trapped on flight 227, and it’s using my own trauma against me. My phone is going to die soon, and the scratching hasn’t stopped. Please help me.