Airborne Terror and Dreams
The Flight
The atmosphere inside the custom Gulfstream jet was expensive but strained. Tara Woodfield, Marcus Trent, Dr. Raymond Chen, Selene Park, and Tomas Vega were settled in the plush leather seating, along with four nervous-looking junior assistants—Allen, Paul, Doris, and Sara—and a chef, Edith, preparing lunch in the galley. The team was heading south, bypassing commercial flights for speed and privacy.
Tara kept the mood light, discussing commission percentages with no one in particular, as if everyone could benefit from her expertise. Marcus and Dr. Chen quietly reviewed the bizarre wall documentation. But the tension mostly radiated from Selene. She sat rigid, staring out the window, unable to forget the sobbing voice in the restroom.
Tomas, sitting across the aisle, caught her eye. He subtly tapped his jacket pocket where the silver crucifix lay, a silent signal of shared fear.
She ignored him. This had nothing to do with religion; she didn't know what it was about, but she knew his crucifix would not bring her any comfort. She did not want a companion in this; she wanted to exit the ride all together.
Two hours into the flight, while cruising smoothly over a layer of pristine white clouds, the jet hit something massive.
There was a violent, gut-wrenching shudder. The cabin lights flickered off, plunging the space into momentary darkness. Alarms chimed sharply, and every loose object—papers, a half-full glass, a laptop—flew upward before crashing down.
More unnerving than the jolt itself was the accompanying flash: a brilliant, silent surge of sparkling blue light that flooded the cabin, illuminating the frozen, terrified faces of everyone inside.
The power stabilized, the alarms silenced, and the cabin lights flickered back on. Everyone looked wide-eyed at each other, past the oxygen masks that had fallen from overhead. Quite a few of them gripped their armrests tightly as they tried not to look out the windows.
"Attention, passengers," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, sounding jarringly casual and causing quite a few to jump. "We just experienced a brief pocket of extreme air density. Nothing to worry about—likely a result of natural climate change and a micro-burst event. We are adjusting our course. Resume normal activities."
The explanation was too fast, too smooth. Tara immediately dismissed it, demanding a flight attendant clean up her spilled champagne. Neither Marcus nor Ray even acknowledged it, both returning to their reading.
But Selene saw Tomas staring at his reflection in the dark window—and saw the faint, unsettling flicker of blue still dancing on the glass.
The Dream
Selene couldn't shake the dread. She took a strong sleeping pill, desperate to shut down her awareness. She needed rest before facing the property, but her mind refused to power down.
She fell into a sleep that felt less like rest and more like possession.
She found herself in a pristine apple orchard. The trees perfectly trimmed, apples seemed to hang at perfect angles, with the perfect hues of red. Selene looked at them with growing dread, an odd sense creeping over her skin.
She found her way out of the orchard and saw a large, sprawling house before her, but the ring of willow trees surrounding a sparkling, faintly glowing, blue pond truly caught her attention.
A young woman rushed out of the large house and down the wide stairs, her long, layered dress trailing behind her.
Selene frowned as she whispered, "Margret? Margret Morrison? Willen?" She was sure that this woman was a Morrison, she was sure she was Margret, and she was sure that she was the one she kept seeing, even though the dress was not exactly the same.
Margret fell to the ground before the largest willow. Selene felt her desperation and pain as if it were hers, and she found herself listening intently.
"Elias! Elias! I am so sorry! They are coming. They know. Edwin told me he knows everything and he will protect you."
She stood, the front of her dress covered in dark earth. Everything stilled; the air around Selene seemed to thicken.
"I will set things right, Elias. You will be happy, beloved. You will be happy forever."
The woman walked between the willows and onto the water, the water only slightly rippling under her feet.
Her lips moved, but Selene couldn't hear anything. A child began to cry, and then the pond exploded with light that reached high into the sky.
Margret was consumed by light, but Selene still saw her. She saw something change about her, and her dress became heavy, velvet, the satin from it bursting into brilliant sparkling light and scattering over the entire estate and neighborhood.
She smiled. "Be happy, my precious boy."
Blue light flashed outward from the pond in all directions, stopping at the property line and the low wall around it, then it quickly returned to the pond.
Selene stood there, frozen, watching the light of the pond pulse like a beating heart, Margret gone but her legacy woven into the fabric of Willow Shore.
A wind suddenly roared around her, and Margret whispered in her ear.
"He will be happy."
Selene's eyes sprang open, her gasp audible and wrenching. The plane sat in silence. Tomas and Ray both rose from their seats, not sure if she needed help.
She licked her lips and took a slow, cleansing breath. What could she say? What could she do?
"Sorry, everyone, guess I am a little wound up."
Tara frowned, but she didn't say anything. Tomas moved to her, curiosity plain on his face.
"You called out a name, Elias. Who is that?"
She looked at him a long moment and finally shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I ate something bad today. I've been trying a new diet."
Tomas looked at her as if he were waiting for her to change her story. He shrugged and moved back to his seat.
Selene pulled the blanket around her, her mind racing as she decided she no longer wanted to sleep. She waved over the stewardess and asked for a cup of black coffee, ignoring Tara's scoff, and she worked hard to forget.
Forget, Margaret, forget her son, and forget what they were all about to walk into.