Similarities

*Similarities

I was catching a flight to O'Hare Airport to see some of my estranged brothers and sisters. It's been over three years since I've had contact with any of them and I was excited at the prospects of spending some time with them to more closely bond our relationships. I needed to settle a specific disagreement with a particular family member, a very long-standing disagreement that has negatively affected my relationships with everyone else within the family. With my new optimism I was hopeful we could strengthen family bonds that would endure.

After arriving at the waiting area, I immediately began looking for a seat. As usual it was filled with a wide variety of travelers. Not an empty seat was visible until I finally spotted one in the far corner, so off I went in that direction. As I got nearer I noticed a gentleman about my age had the seat next to the one I was going to use. He appeared to be preoccupied and I thought this was a good thing.

After taking my seat I let out a huge sigh of relief. It felt great to get off my feet. At my age it felt wonderful to sit down to give my legs a rest. After all, I wasn't a spring chicken anymore.

Seated directly across from me was a dark skinned man dressed in a white full-length khaddar wearing brown leather sandals. In looking like he was from India, he was also reading a paperback titled, The Biography of Indira Gandhi he had opened in his extended right hand. His fingers were exceptionally long and thin, and they easily wrapped around three-quarters of the front of the book to hold it firmly in place.

To his right sat an older woman of Spanish decent dressed in a two-piece pink pantsuit. It was decorated in multi-color rhinestones practically from her head down to her toes. I couldn't help but notice her heavy makeup. Her bright glossy pink lipstick was definitely an eye catcher. She wore a baseball cap that read Las Vegas or Bust. By the expression on her face, she’s probably already been to Vegas and now regrets it.

A Caucasian business looking type gentleman was seated next to her. He was probably in his early thirties. His laptop computer was open and sitting upon his lap, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was doing. Nowadays, these types of individuals with their laptops seemingly attached to their person are everywhere at airports and are too numerous to mention. I wish half of them would leave their computer at home. Better yet, those types of people can all stay at home. Good grief, take a real vacation!

Then I noticed the gentleman immediately to my right. He was the person that I first noticed before I took my seat. He had his head still slightly turned downward so his face wasn't all that noticeable. I didn't want to get caught looking at him too long so I quickly looked away.

Since I had plenty of time on my hands, I unfolded the newspaper I was carrying and began reading more about the disaster in New Orleans. What an awful time all those people were having in trying to cope with everything. Katrina, that disastrous hurricane that came up from The Gulf, left total devastation in its entire path. My heart went out to those people. Although my wife and I donated some money for the relief efforts that were going on, it is obvious that a lot more money and time was needed to get those poor people and the city back on their feet, if at all. It's going to take years before that city even begins to see results of any kind of a recovery. That part of the country reminded me of the pictures I've seen of Hiroshima after it was just bombed in August of 1945. What horrible devastation.

I continued reading when suddenly I overheard the gentleman next to me begin to quietly sob. Out of curiosity I gave him a quick look to see if he was all right. His position hadn't changed any, as he was still looking downward. I began to notice a tear slowly running down over his cheekbone, past the corner of his mouth and then momentarily stopping at his chin. There the tear kept gathering moisture until it could no longer hang on, falling to the floor in a silent splatter. I must have looked at him several seconds before realizing that I was doing so, so I hurriedly looked away before he noticed me. I've always tried to be self-conscious about the things I do, which again includes looking at other people too long thus they might think me a bit strange.

Then I heard another sob. Now, I'm not one to bother people but this guy seemed to be very distraught over something. It was becoming very obvious. I was trying to decide if I should say something to him or not. But for the moment I declined to do so.

As the minutes ticked by he began to get a little noisier when his emotions seem to intensify, drawing the attention of some of the other surrounding people as well. I'm sure they were thinking the same as I, in what's up with this guy?

Then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed he sat up in his seat. His movement caused me to inconspicuously turn my head to get a better look at him. Using a handkerchief he retrieved from the back pocket of his tattered brown slacks, he began to gently dry his wet face caused from all those tears. By this time the man was beginning to look pretty pitiful in keeping to himself and not saying a word to anyone. When he was through wiping his face he placed the handkerchief back into his pocket.

However when he sat up to retrieve his handkerchief he raised his face, and in doing so I caught a glimpse of his long and drawn out expression. It was obvious he was having some sort of serious emotional problem.

I could stand it no longer so I asked him, “Sir, are you all right?”

He methodically turned toward me to reveal extremely sad eyes. With them bloodshot from the obvious emotional turmoil within, he then began to speak in barely above a whisper.

“My brother just died in a plane crash last night. I should've mended my broken fences with him. Now he's gone forever and I'll never have the chance to do that.” As soon as he was through speaking he quietly looked away seemingly not caring if I even responded.

His comments caught me off guard. How was I to respond to a statement like that? The poor man was publicly grieving. The only thing I did was to look at him for a few seconds before slowly looking away myself. I didn’t know what else to do. I went back to reading my newspaper, but now with a sudden reflection of my own life. Sad people will have that affect on me sometimes.

Ten more minutes went by before the gentleman spoke to me once more.

He said, “Hey look, I'm sorry for sounding so distraught. You must have thought me to be a mental case for saying something so troublesome to a complete stranger.”

By the time he finished speaking I was already returning his attention with some of my own.

“That's alright, my friend. I'm very sorry to hear about your brother. ”Then I abruptly stopped speaking. I didn't know what else to say.

Then, in a sociable way he asked me, “Do you have family?”

“Ah, yes I do,” I answered. The man seemed to be trying to get out of his funk by changing the subject matter. This time his words were a little quicker paced. To be polite I thought I would try to accommodate him.

I extended out my right hand in a friendly gesture to shake his. He did likewise. He told me his name was Phil and he was flying home for his brother's funeral.

I informed him my name was Stan, which immediately afterward he gave me a quick quirky glance. For the moment I thought nothing of it.

“This is the saddest day of my life, ever,” he said in a very low-keyed manner, suddenly reverting back to barely speaking above a whisper in his approach toward me. “There isn't anything good coming out of this trip. I sure wish it wasn't necessary.” After speaking, he abruptly looked away once again to resume his private grieving, again appearing as if he didn’t care if I even said a word.

Now, I’m not one to normally listen so intently to strangers, but this guy seemed understandably depressed. I couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for him. I think it was because it was something about his pathetic expression that was familiar to me. Past experiences in life have told me that we've all had similar experiences that have gotten us depressed to varying degrees in with somewhat how this guy was feeling. I wanted to continue our conversation just to try and uplift his spirits.

So I asked him, “Do you have any more family?”

He sat up straight again and turned his head toward me before answering, “Yes, I do. I have ten brothers and sisters. Oh, I'm sorry. I meant to say I have nine brothers and sisters.” He took in a deep breath seemingly as an effort to remind him that one brother is now deceased. Then he slowly exhaled before saying, “One brother is now gone forever. His passing hasn't totally sunk in yet.”

What he just informed me of mildly stunned me. I also have a fair share of brothers and sisters, surprisingly the same number. But I'm fortunate they're all still breathing.

Then I politely asked, “Do you mind if I asked how old your brother was? If I'm being too personal, Phil, just tell me it's none of my business and I'll go back to reading my newspaper. I was thinking that it might help if you talked about it.”

He replied by saying, “You seem like a kind person. Do you have the time to listen to a short story that I would love to get off my chest?” His voice was a little more audible again.

I looked at my watch and noticed I had plenty of time before I had to board my plane.

So I said, “Sure. I’ve got about forty-five minutes. I'll listen if it’ll gave you some comfort.”

“It would make me feel a whole lot better to get a few things spoken so I don't have to keep it all pent up inside. Thank you for being so thoughtful and willing to listen to me for a little while,” the gentleman appreciatively responded. His expression remained so pathetic that I remained compelled to help him deal with his grief in some compassionate way.

I complied with the stranger’s wishes by folding my newspaper and placing it on my lap.

Then I answered him, “Like I said, I have some time on my hands. You look like you could use a friend. So tell me, Phil, what's on your mind?”

The gentleman sat up again from his continual slouching. He began rubbing his hands on his face rather harshly, probably to wake himself up a little. I noticed during our short conversation so far that he seemed to be lacking full awareness. When his hands came down to rest upon his lap, his face was bright red from the hard message he just gave it. Already pot-marked and now flushed in color, the texture of his skin had become very irritated. He seemed to be getting ready to say something important.

“My brother died without knowing I loved him. Haven't told him in years.” His words remained softly spoken and I found myself having to lean in closer to hear him speak. Then he paused for a few moments to seemingly collect his thoughts before continuing. “I've never understood his position on a very serious matter and probably never will. My brother meant the world to me and now he's gone forever. As I said before, we haven't gotten along in years. It’s been very depressing.”

He continued, “It all began after my mother had her stroke. It severely crippled her. Most of her mind left her and she suddenly had to depend on others for her very livelihood. God, I loved her so much! I cried so much that I didn't know if I'd ever get past the trauma of it. But eventually I did.”

Then he asked, “Is your mother still alive?”

I couldn’t immediately answer him. Again I was caught off guard but this time by the gentleman’s statements concerning his mother. His words hit me like a hard thrown brick.

My mother too, you see, had a severe stroke that left her incapacitated. Never mind the fact that it was family that I, as well, was going to see to try and mend broken fences with, concerning specifically my brother, Phil, which coincidently is the same name as this guy. So, his words caused me to be more attentive.

Logically speaking it has to be only a coincidence. But the conversation was beginning to go in an odd direction. When it came down to it, I had no choice but to shrug off the strangeness of his words. I didn't want to appear like I was somehow inappropriate if I mention our similarities. So I kept silent about them. However, just to be cautious I placed myself on guard for anything else that might be said.

When I finally realized that he actually spoke to me, I shook my head slightly to clear the thoughts that were lingering. Phil was staring at me with a blank expression as I did so and was probably wondering if I ever was going to answer him.

“Ah, no sir, she's not. She died of a stroke as a result from a severe brain hemorrhage,” I finally answered.

Now it was the gentleman's turn to react with a bit of a shock, giving me a brief intense look that would have frightened a buzzard off a meat wagon. Not only did his about-face expression surprise me, but also it was because it looked dramatically more attentive and focused as if it was because of what I had just said.

Instantly, his face transformed itself from having severe grief to someone who looked entirely different as if he hadn’t grieved for anyone for years. Observing such a fast change of expression of someone in so close a proximity was an odd thing to witness, with it sending a slight chill in my direction. When he spoke, his voice was also different, with the pronunciations of his words crisper, more deliberate and sounding more purposeful.

“Well now, isn’t this strange?” he announced as if it were national headline news. “My mother died for that very reason as well.” His bloodshot eyes were stretched wide as far as they could open in suddenly appearing mentally off his rocker. His wide-eyed expression certainly made his presence more felt.

He continued glaring at me, even strangely gleaming and making it obvious to me that he was definitely a few cards short of a full deck. He remained with his off-the-wall expression probably close to twenty seconds before causing a creepy feeling to sprout beneath my skin, which in turn caused goose bumps to form up and down both arms, which in turn made the hair stand straight out. The chill made me wish I had worn a longer sleeve shirt.

Why was he looking at me so strangely? His behavior was certainly unconventional and was beginning to irritate me a little. Was his constant staring a purposeful attempt to hook me into saying or doing something I didn’t want, as if some unfortunate fish on a line after taking the bait? He continued to not say anything.

Much too odd, I thought.

After my initial impression of him, however inconsequential it was at the time, made me think that he was extremely depressed and needed someone to talk to. So in that regard, I was more than willing to accommodate him. But the suddenness of the change in him had me wondering if something else was going on inside that head of his.

“What? You're kidding, right?” I responded as I tried to remain oblivious to his rudeness. But I couldn’t remain oblivious to our similarities. I gave in to them to emotionally say, “Man, this conversation is getting a little too weird for me. We have so much in common!” Too much similarity with the guy began filling my head with more questions about him, none more than is this guy for real?

In the back of my mind I was becoming suspicious of his motive for even talking to me. Was he actually grieving? Does he even have a brother?

I imagined that he got my name and other personal information off the Internet for reasons only known to him, which would then explain how he knew to say such things that were so similar. I had a quick and fleeting thought that maybe he was attempting to set me up to steal my money, or possibly do something worse. So, I remained a bit baffled by his maligning behavior as I further put myself on guard for the unexpected.

The stranger continued to wide-eye me, as I felt compelled to return his developing posthumous stare.

I kept attempting to logically deduct his reasons for such unethical behavior. He was actually beginning to frighten me a bit as I concluded without a doubt that he’s an obvious mental case. So, I decided it was time to have nothing more to do of him.

But, as the stranger continued to be obnoxious, I immediately discovered something so bizarre and so unfortunate that I was left with a feeling of complete utter shock.

When I attempted to look away from him my ability to do so was surprisingly weak. I have no reason for it, but it startled the daylights out of me. I was only able to move my eyes slightly, leaving me unable to break eye contact. When I immediately attempted it again I felt even weaker, leaving me then to realize that I had no eye movement at all. Then, as if I really needed to be shocked further, I discovered when I tried to turn completely around in my seat to get entirely away from this oddball I wasn’t able to do that as well. This sent a rush of adrenalin down to my beleaguering tailbone.

Irrevocably stunned and now filling with anxiety moment by moment by my own inability to exercise control over my own body, I deducted by the stranger’s odd behavior that through some strange twist he must be the cause of it all, although I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. But I had no other plausible answer for it. His staring was the only thing remotely tangible that had a chance for some kind of explanation, although I had no idea what. In further derailing my sensibilities it gave me great concern for what might happen next.

Automatically my survival instincts kicked in. And I realized that I was fast becoming immobile and was being left to feel helpless as a lamb, possibly to be pounced upon by this hungry wolf, the stranger. I now had no chance of defending myself if this guy had ideas of harming me. This thought alone frightened me big time.

I was still able to barely move my fingers, but I had to realize and accept the possibility that my ability to physically move at all, as it certainly seemed, was strangely leaving me. I was faced with an extremely serious situation as my inner psyche was already racing towards panic mode.

Just what the hell do you think you’re doing would be a question I would certainly ask, followed immediately by a healthy knuckle sandwich to his jaw! That would be my remedy for the situation to end, that is, if I could just move. My fifty-seven-year-old heart was by now pumping blood so fast that I had to worry about having some kind of doggone aneurysm. It felt like the darn thing might explode! I was fast becoming fearful like I’ve never been.

The bare thought of being helpless in front of this goof forced me to rivet my full attention upon him. I couldn’t help but noticed his eyes were hypnotic, mysterious and full of mischief, unlike in the beginning of our conversation when they appeared sad and depressed. They electrifyingly danced back and forth with such truly amazing speed that I thought they might dance themselves right out of their own sockets.

Then as if on command from someone or something, my heart’s rhythm began to forcibly slow down, underhandedly supplanting a fear of unknown origin in me. This caught me completely unaware as I gasped from the swift suddenness of the change. It continued to slow down so much that each new heartbeat became louder and more pronounced as the spasmodic muscle began to echo in my eardrums.

Oh my God! Oh shit! Immediately I thought I might be having a heart attack, but I un- assuredly dismissed that idea because I felt no chest pain associated with one.

In shifting my thoughts to the stranger as I glared into his eyes, an ever darker and more sinister appeal seemed to suddenly latch upon his face.

Even though he made me wonder if he could mentally cause a heart attack upon someone using telepathy, such an unheard of power caused me to freak at the idea.

Just who or what are you? I realized by now that I was suddenly dealing with something that was much more powerful than I could imagine. His baleful expression omitted great uneasiness for me.

I knew my brain was functioning normally when I realized I still had the ability to reason. But that was a small blessing, for if I weren’t able to move after thinking about ways to defend myself; it would still render me totally helpless.

Besieged by a cacophony of impressions and emotion of just who this guy is and what he was doing, frightful desperation became my modus operandi to survive.

My mind franticly searched for what to do. I must confess with my heart being forced into a much slower rhythm, the thought of possibly dying got greater by the second, sending a profound fear to encroach the outer boundaries of my mind. My stretched-out emotions allowed logic and common sense to be overshadowed by that fear within.

Another unbelievable thing that was very strange that I sensed happening was the people seated around me in the boarding area seemed oblivious to my fast developing predicament. I couldn’t understand it. It was like this stuff wasn’t even taking place in front of them, cementing even further those feelings of helplessness that were rapidly swirling impetuously inside of me.

But in fast approaching that point of total incapacitation, I knew it had unfortunately arrived when an archaic feeling of a forced surrender swallowed me entirely. In feeling the last of my energy and ability to resist the stranger flow out of me, it felt like I was rapidly dying and that my life would soon be over. Fast reducing blood pressure left me stultified from the sudden lack of oxygen my body needed to function properly. I could only pray that no harm would come to me, especially from the fast transition of the sudden chemical imbalance I was experiencing.

After only about fifteen or twenty seconds this unknown sensation abruptly ceased, leaving me with an extremely slowed heartbeat (probably less than thirty beats per minute), a maligning stillness and a body temperature dangerously dropping lower with each passing second. For me to tell you it was disturbingly unsettling would be a complete misdiagnosis. This was scaring me like the dickens. Scared shitless would be a better way to describe it. With now knowing the stranger’s intent upon me was anything but good, the situation had become frightfully alarming.

As my body temperature continued to drop, the ensuing cold was intensely numbing and became my most immediate threat. Breathing became cumbersome, raspy and damn difficult, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. I wasn’t even allowed to shiver, as my body temperature felt like it was approaching freezing. As I tried to use my brain that by this time felt half-frozen to its surrounding skull, I needed to quickly understand what was going on and why, so hopefully a solution could be found to end it all. Freezing to death was becoming a real possibility.

Filling my mind with thoughts was becoming a challenge only because of a continuing diminishing capacity to think. I frantically attempted to exert all focus to my brain to try and execute nerve impulses for stimulation and warmth, if that was possible. I did not want to die today.

My mental exertion was so great that it unhinged a usually propitious brain while being in this extreme and frightful emotional state. It became extended in ways I’ve never imagined, as I desperately and frantically fought to resist what was happening to me just to stay alive.

As a result, bizarre images, silhouetted by the face of the stranger, suddenly began filling my now precarious mind, weird stuff that I’ve only seen either at the movies or on the sci-fi channel. Assorted demons with twisted faces were now rapidly flashing in and out of my head. It made me wonder if the damn Devil was coming to get me and that eternal damnation was just around the corner.

Painful twisted smiles on disfigured demonic faces fore- fronted mammoth piles of human corpses. It reminded of the savagery of Adolph Hitler during World War II, but only on a much grander scale. I could sense the smell of the stench from the rotting flesh.

Was this a glimpse of my afterlife? Would it be damnation? Did these images have any meaning at all? I wondered if I had a one-way ticket to meet the Devil. In the background, I heard dogs hysterically yipping.

I have no idea how long they lasted, but at one point all those hellish images abruptly stopped and were supplanted by an image of a child. It was of a small boy, probably five or six. He was naked and seated in a metal chair much too large for him. It was so large that his knees didn’t extend past the front of it. A subliminal expression punctuated the boy’s sunken and darkened eyes. A ghostly white complexion made him seem ghoulish. His wrists and ankles were restrained with a heavy rope to that very chair. He appeared to be a lost in a place unearthly and evil.

But, the image really made my nuts churn when I saw the face of the boy. He disturbingly resembled me; further jettisoning my soul into darker territory. And, as I stared into his abhorred face, his dark creepy eyes suddenly spun up to touch mine, startling me and scaring me to death! The entire scene was way too intense for a predisposed human disposition such as mine.

The gentleman, no longer can I describe him as such, was no doubt someone with a much-maligning character. I was totally convinced that he was evil in the absolute worst way and that he was an actual instrument of Satan himself.

I could no longer afford to second-guess him. As I continued to hypnotically return his odd stare, in my mind he took on the appearance of a street-wise two-bit hustler, someone who was very confident and self-assured with whatever he was doing. The corners of mouth began to have an occasional slight upward twitch, like the nerve endings were being electrically jolted to purposely reveal a slight bothersome and haunting smile underneath. His expression was malicious and extremely bothersome.

I thought, is he some kind of damn satanic sociopath?

Suddenly, as I continued to be in this near death-like state of mind, he smiled at me in a demeaning and contemptuous way to say, “Why do you say that? Did I say something to upset you?” all the while fully knowing that he had me by my non-sensuous balls. His sudden words yanked me away from those absorbed hellish images to remind me of my last words spoken, which were ‘man; this conversation is getting a little too weird for me.’ Unbelievably, he was still trying to make himself appear naïve about everything he was doing.

Then in what appeared in my vision to be a complete blur, much like an image created when fast-forwarding on a video player, he dramatically reposition himself squarely in his seat to look down toward the floor in front of him once again.

When his eyes darted away, the physical entrapment of his perverse telepathy suddenly stopped, allowing me to exhaustedly collapse into my seat gasping for each new breath! In automatically embracing the release of his psychological stranglehold, it sent my blood rushing through me, gorging me and forcing me to hold onto my seat from the sudden swiftness of it. The adrenalin rush was actively emphatic and could have easily done me more harm than good. But, in continually having to catch my breath, it was all I could do just to stay glued in my seat as my body was rapidly adjusting itself back to normal chemical levels.

After a few minutes of being jolted back to reality, the quick transformation began to level off as it got nearer to completing. I remained in my seat to calm myself and to gather in some composure. With the odd stares I was now getting from travelers seated next to me, I now feared I might be carted off somewhere to be questioned for behaving strangely if I didn’t gather in some decorum.

But, as I willingly (thank you very much) sat there, I still remained puzzled by the fact that while I was under the spell of the stranger, my situation remained unnoticed. Could someone not see our odd behavior of the two of us staring at each other? They acted as if I was still seated decorously in my seat reading my newspaper. I could only look upon them confusingly.

I began to wonder why did the stranger target me to perform such mental theatrics on? Why put me through such a twisted affair when he doesn’t know me or I of him? Even though I deduced he used the Internet to obtain my personal information, I didn’t know for sure. To question him about anything might stir him to act on impulse to start all over. I definitely didn’t want to experience those awful and sadistic images again, so I decided to ask him nothing.

After several minutes when I finally got strong enough to muster up enough courage just to glance at him, he appeared like a wandering soul, homeless perhaps. With control of my faculties back, I reasoned maybe he has a prescribed medical condition that causes him to act out such maligning behavior.

Regardless, I now undoubtedly knew he has a powerful mind. When he placed those decadent images in my mind and had me at the doorway of Hell, I knew I couldn’t challenge such strength and expect to win.

But, just to let him know that I wasn’t intimidated by his odd behavior, I gave him a long, firm and leering look before speaking to him in an upbeat and gleeful way, “Hey buddy, I got to tell you that I have ten brothers and sisters just like you. Thank goodness all of mine are still alive!”

I wanted my calculated comment to sting a little and make him think twice before opening his seemingly discerning mouth next time. I wanted to let him know that I was on to him and the possible cruel game he was playing. He didn’t need to know that I actually did have ten brothers and sisters. That was weird enough.

I waited to see what kind of reaction he was going to give me with the sudden change in my tone of voice.

He remained, however, mysteriously motionless. As I glared at him, I dared him to say anything so I could verbally knock him down.

What if he was an actual escapee from some mental institution? Unlikely, but one never knows for sure about these kinds of things. Should I continue to think that he’s being malevolent at my expense? This stranger had me questioning my own validity of past proven abilities to exercise better judgment.

To be quite frank, I wasn’t quite sure what to think of him.

With him totally ignoring me, again I came to the conclusion that there was only one thing left to do. It was again time to try and end this meeting, hopefully with a little self-preservation intact.

So, I said to him in a sympathetic sounding voice to try and respectfully end our conversation, “Hey look, Phil, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just we have so much in common. I'm almost afraid to talk to you any more. Our conversation has become extremely weird, that's all.”

After a slight upward twist of his neck, his foreboding ominous eyes damn frightful I must tell you, quickly shot up from the floor with a poignant glaze to them to firmly rest upon me. Unbelievably, he looked even more crazed, like some damn psycho or killer perhaps. Again he thoroughly scared me so bad that I thought I might actually wet my pants. His eyes were not just bloodshot anymore. They were entirely red, bloodlike as if belonging to an actual demon. I even had a fleeting thought that the damn Devil was lurking behind them.

His frightful face, beginning to glisten from forming beads of sweat, had a twisted perverseness to it like it had just exited Hell. Ice-cold chills raced through me as I instantly became more submerged in my overwhelming fear.

I was totally convinced during those ten or so seconds when he revealed to me such a devastating looking face that he was actually Satan himself. He looked pure evil and I really thought he had me marked for death. I was never so afraid of anything before.

Then if acting in some play, in dramatic fashion he turned away from me, throwing his hands up to cover his nightmarish face to seemingly wanting to hide it. It was like he knew what he had become and now for some unknown reason was ashamed of it. He began to sob as if on cue from some playwright’s script.

I began screaming in my mind that all of this crap is way too bizarre for reality! I questioned that very thought - is this really happening to me? Was I dreaming this shit? I could hear the rusty screws squeaking as they loosened my sanity. His continuing strange behavior made me feel like I was being sucked into some unknown darkness where the damn Devil waited to welcome me. At will, he certainly seemed to be provoking me into thinking self-abnegation.

Then, as I leered at him while he was still covering that horrible face, a mumble began to emit itself from in-between his fingers.

He said, “If only I would've told Stan that I loved him before he died.”

His words were so seemingly prophetic, quickly icing-over every pore of my skin. To shockingly now discover that his dead brother has the same name as me, the title of my own obituary instantly flashed before me saying, Mysterious Man Dies A Horrible Death As A Result Of Plane Crash!

The pilot of this ill-fated plane would be this guy. I clearly could see him laughing the entire time the plane was going down and then crashing into the ground. He seemed that crazed.

Why couldn’t it happen? What’s to stop me from dying this way? In having the same name as his dead brother, it just parallels with so many other things that were similar with him. I was just one snap of a stretched thread away from emotionally losing it.

Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know you! By this time, however, my emotions had become so exhaustingly extended that I don’t think I could have spoken with any kind of resemblance of someone with an education.

Then he suddenly sat up in his seat and lowered his hands to shockingly reveal his initial former self, the same charismatic individual who was so emotionally distraught at the onset of our conversation.

I thought, man, you are just too fucking weird! Just how in the hell do you do that? He had me so confused I didn’t know what to think.

Then he surprisingly spoke, “You know, Stan, maybe we should just end our conversation right here.” And without any more said, he got up to walk over to the other side of the waiting area to lean against the wall.

And just like that our conversation was over.

My eyes remained firmly attached to him as he walked away. The bastard! With the back of his clothing wrinkled and wet from sweat, and with his slow walk and hunched shoulders, he appeared pathetic and even destitute. Regardless, I was damn happy to be rid of him.

Then, a sudden announcement came blasting across the P.A. to say, Flight 119 to Chicago will be boarding in ten minutes. Please have your tickets and a picture ID available at the gate. Thank you.

I was certainly glad to hear that, or was I? I must now decide if I still wanted to board that plane to Chicago. The prospect of dying at all, especially in such a violent way, had me shimmering in my shoes.

Would getting on that plane seal my doom, my own death as I certainly thought only a few moments ago when the stranger had me in his grip? He had me so paranoid about my own existence that I would have sworn by up and down to my grandmother that my own death was prominent.

As I continued to look at him and now that I was almost again my logical thinking self, I tried to understand and reason why he did this. Why me? However, I remained mystified as to his behavior.

I despised him for what he put me through, but I also have to have respect for such a power, unnerving as it was. With both hands in his pants’ pockets and with one foot propped up against the wall for support, the stranger appeared to be scanning others to exercise his mind control on. I looked away in disgust.

As my transformation back to my former self was near completion, along with the return of my strength, it permitted me to come to the inevitable conclusion that it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I’ll allow someone to sway me again in a direction that I didn’t want to go.

Even though the experience will remain lodged in my head for a very long time, I cannot allow myself to give it much credence. Afterall, those nightmarish images took place only in my head and not in the real world. I was the victim of a twisted individual who wanted to amuse himself.

And so, after accepting these thoughts as sound and true, I decided to board my scheduled flight to Chicago.


…After getting on the plane and locating my assigned seat, I reached into my shirt pocket to remove a stick of gum as I sat down. I always like to be chewing gum as the plane pressurizes, it’s easier on the eardrums. I also could relax more and enjoy my flight now that I began to push the nightmarish experience of the stranger further behind me.

As the plane rolled down the runway, the engines increasing rpm’s caused the noise level to increase as usual, momentarily making me paranoid of possible engine trouble. But I quickly realized that it was only I having the jitters that caused me to think that way. And soon the plane was off the ground and in the air to begin it’s ascent to its pre-programmed flight altitude. It felt fantastic to finally be on my way.

As the plane soared higher and higher, I kept breathing sighs of relief. So far, so good I thought.

I’ve always enjoyed flying. Looking out my window to view the Earth below is always a scintillating experience. Mountain peaks, rivers, lakes and the clouds below remind me of godly things, making me appreciate them and feel the way God must have felt after he created them. It’s absolutely astounding to see such beauty. And when the plane is either taking off from an airport or approaching to land somewhere, the city with all its tall buildings and cars look so tiny and insignificant. It’s always a pleasure to fly the friendly skies.

Plus, the stewardesses are always gorgeous and courteous of your every need. Strangers who could care less of who you are, are lost in their own world just like me. They sit next to you living similar lives and having similar needs, but yet are totally different.

In now having a fresh perspective of my life (near death-like experiences will do that), I wouldn’t change anything I got going for myself. It just makes me appreciate that much more of who I am and what I have.

Suddenly the pilot was heard saying, the altitude we will be flying at on our trip to Chicago will be at 35,000 feet. Please keep your seatbelt fastened until you see the lighted sign directly in front of you go off. Thank you and enjoy your flight.

Since I was very tired from all the brouhaha I just experienced, I decided it would be nice to take a short nap, if I could, so I would be more fresh and alert when the plane touched down at O’Hare Airport. So, I leaned back my seat as far as it would go, stretched out as far as I could and closed my eyes. The soft hum of the engines had a seducing affect on me and soon I was in a deep sleep, almost coma-like my wife likes to tell me.


…I have no idea how long I was asleep before I felt a gentle tap on my arm. Since I wanted to sleep more, I dismissed it.

Then, moments later I heard a faint voice sounding a long distance away. Again I chose to ignore it. Sleep first, talk later was the order of things for the moment.

Then, “Hey buddy, wake up! You better wake up, mister!” an unknown voice was abruptly heard screaming and sounding like a banshee! I forcibly cracked an eyelid open to see a stranger’s face no further away than six inches from my own, startling the stuffing out of me. This time I knew I unfortunately was awake to stay.

He kept wildly screaming and saying, “Wake up! Save your soul! The plane's going down! The plane’s going down!”

Instantaneously, his words shot through me like a prophecy from Hell!

I sprang out of my seat to notice terrified screaming people amid mass hysteria! Oxygen masks hung everywhere! Then I spotted a busted out window three rows up, hence the reason for no cabin pressure.

Then it dawned on me…”Oh shit! No! Oh God! No! This can’t be happening! Right away my thoughts turned to the stranger at the airport.

“Could the stranger…no, impossible! I dare not think that!”

The frantic individual warning me of what was ahead interrupted me again.

“Save your soul, man! WE’RE ALL GOING DIE!” he wildly screamed to me before turning away to run back to his own seat and strap himself into it. The man’s face was totally absorbed in fear. I watched him fumbling with the belt buckle because of nerves shot to hell. He finally gave up on it, probably realizing it wasn’t going to help him anyway.

I quickly realized I had no time either, for anything! Terrified passengers and they’re expressions of absolute sheer horror quickly propelled me to act, to do something!

I lunged toward the aisle, throwing myself up and over the laps of passengers next to me wearing frightful expressions. I crawled over them in my frantic rush to reach the aisle and then the cockpit. I had to know what seemed to be happening. In my haste I fell to the aisle floor banging my head hard on something but not feeling a thing, reason being my adrenalin was pumping fast like there was no tomorrow. I had to know if the stranger was there…

In struggling to get to my feet, I knock down other passengers who were in the aisle and in my way. Now running toward the cockpit door as fast as I could, I slammed my right shoulder into it causing it to fly wildly open!

Then I saw him, sitting behind the controls steering the plane -the stranger sitting with his back toward me!

“It’s you! No, it can’t be!” I screamed uncontrollably! Along with being emotionally at wits’ end over the realization that my nightmare was continuing, seething anger quickly inflamed every pore I owned. This whole affair was pushing me to the point of utter madness! I have to do something to save myself, perhaps even kill him to halt this insanity unfolding before me. I didn’t want to take it anymore. My mind can’t handle it any more.

That damned demon, that distributor of devilish images, assuredly he ought to called that by now, continued to be arrogant when he jokingly said while looking straight ahead out through the plane’s viewing window, “I told you I was going to my brother’s funeral! Yours!” An abrupt sarcastic chuckle erupted from his mouth, pushing me closer to the edge of insanity!

As my rage continued to boil within, I screamed, “I’m not your brother, you sick fuck! He’s alive, well and living in Chicago! You’re some creature from Hell!”

Again as if on cue from some scripted play, he methodically turned around in his seat. And what I saw put all the pieces of this torrential nightmare together. And I knew at that very moment, that magnifying split-second of incredible realization, that Eternal Damnation was going to be my destiny as well. That protuberant knot in my gut suddenly snarled itself so tight that I immediately doubled over in pain.

Along with a giddy smile, he shockingly revealed to me the face of my brother, Phil!

“No! It can’t be! You’re not real!” quickly shout from my mouth as the mania continued to teeter toward absolute and complete madness. Totally shocked numb beyond all belief, I could only stand there dumbfounded as I felt my sanity slipping away.

My brother’s face, a personification of pure evil, was sparkling with contempt as he said, “You’re partially correct, Stan. I am from Hell!”

I could only look upon him in sheer horror! My soul, leftovers of mostly missed opportunities gone by, began to have a slight burning sensation to it. Quickly absorbed by the warming darkness, the heat penetrated deep into the last pockets of resistance I had to offer.

Continuing, he said, “I was killed last night, my brother. I was on a flight from Chicago to see you. I wanted to reconcile our past. But the plane was struck by lightening during that tremendous thunderstorm, sending it crashing to the ground into a huge fireball. My body was burned beyond recognition, along with everyone else, of course.”

“And because I never made the time to worship the Other One, you know, the one up there,” he says as he mockingly points a finger skyward, “I soon found out that down there,” he points the same finger downward, “was going to be my new home for all eternity. Now I’ll never again have that chance to try and solve our problems. And I blame you, Stan. You really pissed me off! I’m going to make you pay for your arrogance…for all eternity!”

He paused for a moment to enjoy my misery before continuing, “I requested you as my first assignment from the Great Evil One.”

Smiling, Phil continues, “He’s not that bad, actually. You’ll learn to like him. Although you’ll never get used to the pain he so willing hands out to the ones who end up down there, the food is terrific!”

Then he calmly checks the clock on the instrument panel before further saying, “You’ve got one minute before we crash. Any last requests?” sneering all the while as he toyed with me.

My brother, now a damned servant of the Devil, perverse in the worst way and glistening of sweat, gave me one last sarcastic smile before turning back around in his seat to continue steering the plane. He was obviously enjoying every second. I couldn’t help but notice the roar of the plane’s engines grinding their way through my eardrums, as if clearing a passage to my soul to be swarmed over by the dark.

Upon seeing that my brother was the stranger all along, a different kind of reality suddenly seared through me, burning me like a red-hot branding iron. Now that he’s getting his revenge against me for the pain I caused him for our personal differences, a dimension of resolute magnified horror took shape before my eyes, along with a gut feeling in knowing that this time the horror was going to last for all eternity.

Then those same images of damned demons with disfigured faces wearing twisted smiles running amok atop piles of rotting human flesh returned. The stench emitted from the rot was real this time, entering my senses and instantly causing me to throw up. I knew this time that my mind was his to do with as he pleased and that the horror of it all was never going to leave me. It would remain in my head to haunt me forever, along with a new reality, one that offered no chance for reprieve. When the cold also returned, it caused me to gasp for each new breath, making my breathing raspy and cumbersome.

The stranger, that prognostic fellow who indubitably knew me very well has come back to take me home with him.

His first assignment will soon be completed and stamped as a job well done. His Master, the insatiable Lucifer, will be pleased that he acquired another lost soul. This I have become sure of.

Suddenly Phil looked back at me to sarcastically say before steering the plane into the ground, “Ten seconds to go before we’re blown to bits, Stan! Very soon you’ll know what real pain is like!” pausing just enough to enjoy the fear on my face before turning his head back around.

Then his last words were “See you on the other side, brother!” immediately followed by a mad laugh erupting from his lips, an insane laugh that permeated the entire cockpit.

The burning darkness finally arrived to swallow me, like some last remaining tidbit to savor. And the pain, oh God – that awful pain, began to invade my flesh…

Aahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

The End