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Supernatural Short Stories


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#16 evad_83647

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 02:25 AM

Just before one A.M. at McChord AFB I received an order to fix an ailing engine on the C-141B Starlifter parked on -- Dog Thirty-One.

The trip to the isolated aircraft, took longer than usual due to the thick fog. This gave several fellow jet engine mechanics, destined to work other jobs, time to retell the Tale of the Haunted Parking Spot.

With big round eyes, and a slow animated voice, the first one started. “Early one morning a young crew chief was in the tail lubricating the jackscrew for the pitch trim actuator. No one is sure whether he was distracted by thoughts of his new wife, the baby on the way, or the fact that he was going to get his own Starlifter in two weeks. Anyhow he didn’t tag the hydraulic pumps, so no one would turn them on; he also neglected to hang the ‘Man in T-Tail’ sign. He probably figured he would be done before anyone came out to the jet. As luck would have it the plane was moved up on the flying schedule and when the crew came out and did their preflight checks, the pitch trim actuator moved slow and made a screeching sound. Imagine everyone’s surprise when they discovered the crew chiefs mutilated corpse. Now-- he crews every plane parked on Dog Thirty-One.”

A second mechanic chimed in. “It always happens around two in the morning.”

“It is normally cold… dark… and foggy…” A third added.

“First come the screams -- and then he jumps from the hayloft to the cargo floor.” The first speaker spoke again.

“I actually saw him once…” Said yet another.

I laughed nervously at the bad acting, and when the bread van stopped I stepped off with my tools. The taillights of the dispatch vehicle disappeared into the gloom abandoning me alone on the Haunted Spot. ‘Positive thoughts’ eluded me observing the surreal scene.

The bone chilling ice fog, absorbed the bright stadium lights, and the diffused energy radiated an ethereal glow. The ice crystals covering the jet reflected a shimmering aura around the visible portion of the swept wings into the thick cloud. It created an illusion of the phantom Starlifter returning from the vast depths of the nether world. Immediately the night seemed even colder and I pulled my green camouflaged jacket tighter and my black stocking cap lower.

The descriptions, fresh in my mind, made this the perfect setting for the crew chief to appear. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but just in case I quietly carried my seventy-five pound tool box to the number two engine and silently opened the cowling. Fortunately the engine only had a minor problem and I’d be finished well before two A.M.

My senses, already heightened, noticed every little anomaly. The aluminum skin continually contracted and popped in the cold night fog. Conjured images appeared in the swirling mist and occasionally the entire plane shivered and shook. My overworked flashlight beam constantly illuminated the latest apparition and I prayed the batteries held out. Then the crew chief’s ghost started watching over my shoulder. Every time I tried to ignore him, his spirit became stronger. When I turned to face him, he darted into the fog. The twenty minute job, with his unwelcome presence, took much longer.

I left the cowling open; my supervisor needed to inspect the job. I hadn’t seen him or my coworkers since they abandoned me so long ago. I started towards the plane, I had to go inside the hallucinogenic bird and sign off the discrepancy in the forms. I shone my light into the blackness through the icicle fanged gaping hole (on any other night, the crew entry door). ‘On the other side the invisible crew chief waited.’ My inner being warned me not to board the aircraft. I hesitated and then hesitated a little longer.

Inside the belly of the gigantic bird the cold dark fog added to my trepidation. The dreamlike murk was a completely foreign world. I had traversed into the realm of the living dead. Translucent silver bullets (coffins) floated above the cargo floor and several had their lids open. Full figured faceless shadows from the thousands of corpses the Starlifter carried from Viet Nam and other incursions roamed freely. Their moans and shrill laughs haunted me from within the impenetrable haze. As one of the shadows passed through me, I had a quick vision of total chaos and then a bomb exploded, the temperature dropped another ten degrees.

The apparitions didn’t disappear this time, but thankfully stayed downstairs, when I went up to the flight deck. The forms sat on the flight engineers table, as expected, and I started signing them off. My hand stopped as I wrote the date… 31 October. Abruptly the number three hydraulic system pumps came on, something that can’t happen without power on the aircraft, and an unearthly, blood curdling, wail came from the back of the already noisy jet. Then the electric pumps mysteriously shut off again and a deathly silence followed… I strained to hear anything for the next several seconds, my eyes looked toward the cargo compartment, and my intuition told me the lesser ghosts had fled, they too were afraid of the more powerful phantom. I turned back to the forms even more determined to sign them off, and get the hell out of here, before he showed up.

I fully expected the loud thump, just not this soon as he jumped from the hayloft to the cargo floor and landed hard enough to make the entire plane quiver. Then he started dragging chains across the metal floor, making his presence known. I aimed my light over the crew rest platform towards the back of the plane. The murk absorbed the light and I cautiously went down the three steps into the cargo area, now empty.

A misshapen figure slowly emerged from the mist. His tattered uniform had dark gray blood oozing from the chest area. The left side of his deformed skull had even blacker blood streaming from it. He continued limping towards me-- a chain in each hand. I froze, thirty feet from the anguished specter.

Ohohohohohohohohohohohohohoh… Thump, his good right leg hopped forward… Scrape, he pulled his broken leg behind him… Rattle, his chains accentuated the jerky movements… Twenty feet away, I saw his left eye dangling from the socket.

I panicked, jumped into the cockpit, grabbed the forms and raced outside.

At the fire bottle in front of the aircraft, with the flashlight trained at the crew entry door, I finished signing off the ‘Corrected By’s’. I again approached the portal, reached in, and tossed the forms on the galley. A cold hand grabbed my wrist; I twisted free and ran back to the fire bottle. I had dropped the flashlight during the encounter, and while still shining, it lay useless on the ground. Thump… Scrape… Rattle…

I inched my way along the fuselage, retrieved the light and retreated back to my fire bottle sanctuary. I kept expecting the dead crew chief to come outside-- he didn’t.

After another several minutes listening to the crew chief, now in the cockpit, I walked to the C-141 next door (at least it was quiet). I waited there for my supervisor to return with the blue bread truck. When he did, hours (minutes) later, he drove past me. Cautiously I returned to Dog Thirty-One.

Safely on the truck, I told my tale.

Sgt. Storm and the other mechanics laughed.

“The forms are on the galley and someone needs to close the cowling.” I stated firmly, while my fellow mechanics mimicked ghost sounds and rattled the chains securing the toolboxes. My coworkers, still giggling, disappeared into the fog and brought the airplane to life. They turned on all the interior and exterior lights and searched the empty jet. Back on the truck they discussed the tags on the hydraulic pump switches, the ‘Man in T-Tail’ sign on the flap handle, and the forms on the engineers table.

“There were no signs, and I left the forms on the galley!” I exclaimed.

Then Sgt. Storm chastised me for signing the Red X’s. I stayed on the truck and he brought the forms, to show me, after my denials. The documents sent eerie chills down my spine flipping to the page with my signature. The Red X’s were still open-- but small splatters of black blood dotted the white page. The same instant I showed my boss the ‘Inspected By’ blocks were still open, both the C-141 and the truck went dark. Sgt. Storm tried to restart the truck; the battery was dead. Neither he nor my coworkers mocked me now, and their wide eyes looked at each other for reassurance in the dim light.

I felt no gratification or relief, when I grinned and said. “I told you so!”
Once I get there, there is somewhere else.Is it the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning?

#17 MoonChild

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 02:32 AM

:wave: whoa, this is getting better!
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#18 evad_83647

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 02:40 AM

Moon there is some truth in that but I had to embellish to make it into a story. Read earth spirits "Phantom Crew Cheif" post. I was the mechanic working on dog 31 that night. The true story was I heard something that sounded like someone jumping from the hayloft to the cargo floor when I went onboard to sign off the forms. It was foggy and cold and the stories that I'd heard alot were quoted to me before I was dropped off alone. So I did see alot of faces in the fog and the planes natuarlly settle and shudder in the cold. But It definately enhanced my imagination. lol
Once I get there, there is somewhere else.Is it the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning?

#19 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 02:45 AM

excellent, no other words to describe it!!!

#20 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 03:07 AM

The rain was really coming down, that dark summer night. I had been on this stretch of road for some time now. If I didn't get to a gas station soon, I knew, I would surely be walking in this. I decided to speed up, in hopes of getting to a station faster. But, that was a mistake on my part. I was going so fast, I didn't have enough time to stop before I hit the downed tree.

My car was totaled, and worst of all, I had to walk. There hadn't been a house for miles, and only God knows how much longer it would be to the next station. I started to walk in the blistering rain and didn't have to walk far before I noticed what looked like an abandoned house, although there was a glow coming from the window.

I ran to the front door and was about to knock when I noticed the door was already open, as if to welcome me in. The house was dark on the inside and had a really musty smell. I could barely stand it much longer.

I walked through the long, dark hallway and came to a room with a fire going in the fireplace. There was a woman sitting in a chair facing the fire.

"Excuse me, miss?" I said to her...she didn't respond.

"Hello? Miss, are you--." Before I could finish my sentence she had gotten up and started shuffling towards me. Her head facing down, and her black, stringy hair covering her face. Her dress was beat-up and torn everywhere and was very dirty.

I felt compelled to just turn around and run away, but instead I took a few steps toward her. She lifted her head and revealed to me her fleshy, decomposing face and her deep hollow eyes which seemed to stare right into my soul.

She let out an ear shattering screech that sent me running in the opposite direction. She followed after me. I made it through the hallway and to the front door and frantically pulled at the knob and it fell off. I turned and looked into the hallway and saw her standing there, staring at me with those hollow eyes. I think at this point, I had already BAD_WORD myself.

I ran up the stairs, luckily located next to me. I found a closet which I could hide in, which was the best I could do at the time. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, thinking, maybe she forgot about me.

I peeked my head out, a foolish mistake, and there she was, just waiting for me. I tried to run past her, but she grabbed me and threw me to the ground. Her long, broken fingernails were peeling my flesh. Her yellow, rotten teeth were digging into my peeled skin. Her grip was so strong, it felt like my bones were shattering into a million little pieces. Then everything went black.

Now I sit here, in front of this fireplace, with her next to me. Waiting, just waiting, for the next stranded traveller.

--ugh, not the best, but itll do for something off the top of my head. No way this competes with the others.

Edited by bonedaddy15, 20 February 2006 - 03:10 AM.


#21 evad_83647

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 03:30 AM

Sounds good to me Bone. I had the luxury of having a lot of time to compile mine. There is a revised version of it somewhere if only I could remember where I put it....

I've found through my experiences you see what you expect to see, I remember this one time I was out hunting for bigfoot and the noises in the familiar woods suddelnly became strange and foreign, the tracks that would have been bear tracks a week before were suddenly bigfoot tracks... The sticks cracking as bigfoot shadowed us were also very unerving. It didn't help that we had problems getting to the area and the shadows were already getting long. We made some plaster casts of the footprints we found, while he watched us...
Once I get there, there is somewhere else.Is it the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning?

#22 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 04:37 AM

i forgot to tell people that it doesnt have to be just ghosts, it can be anything unexplainable. You can even make monsters and creatures up. Get creative, have fun with it, keep this post alive.

#23 spooksareus

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 11:24 AM

im not good with grammar or proofreading, so please ignore all that when you read mine, even though its not the best.


I'll ignore yours if you ignore mine. :)
Love the stories by the way kiddo :hug:
Spooks


thanks jody, i cant believe nobody has ever made this kind of topic before. I hope someone actually makes a scary one, all we have had so far were sad ones.


It must be the signature you have.
Emily's spirit is creating a sad ambiance :hug:

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." -Oscar Wilde “The Picture of Dorian Gray”


#24 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 03:09 PM

It was supposed to be a short flight, one hour, two tops. But, there had been engine trouble, and the whole time the plane was spiraling out of control towards the ground, all John could think of was his new bride waiting for him at their new home.

John could see the people hanging on for dear life as the plane fell to the earth. He could hear the screams, the cries for parents, and the praying of the passengers on board. It's weird, seems like this plane had been falling for hours, but it was only taking place in less than a few minutes. He glanced at the watch his wife had given him and said his final good-bye to her. Then....silence....

About an hour later, Sarah was just finishing her shower when she heard someone open the door.

"Honey? Youre home early." She yelled through the bathroom door. No answer came. Sarah stepped out of the bathroom, afraid there may be a theif afoot. She walked to the front door, but it was locked tight...she checked the back, locked. She checked the windows and any other opening into the house, all locked.

She walked into her bedroom to check the window, when she noticed something on the bed.

It was John's watch, it read 2:37, exactly one hour before...next to it was a crumpled note that simply read:

Sarah, I will love you always......

Sarah didn't know how the watch had gotten there and was sure that John had it when he got on the plane to go to his parents house.

She called John's parents to see if he had left anything there before he made his return flight. The parents seemed shocked.

"Sarah, haven't you heard?" John's mother said over the phone. "John's plane went down, about an hour ago...there were no survivors."

Sarah could hear his mother crying over the phone and soon started to cry herself, trying to get over the fact that her husband was now dead.

When she was called in to i.d. the body, she confirmed and was handed his possesions that was found on him at the site. His wallet, a few pieces of paper, clothes...........but no watch among them.

--I think I like the sad ones better. Yet, another one from the top of my head.

Edited by bonedaddy15, 20 February 2006 - 03:10 PM.


#25 lulaboo

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:09 PM

These are really great you guys!! I'll have to do some digging around but I think I may have one that isn't too graphic (or that I wont have to make too many edits to) to post up in here. :clap:
Is it Peeps season yet?Gallon of citronella oil--$5.95Having said oil blessed by local Catholic priest--FreeThe look on a psychic vampires face after you douse it with blessed oil and call it a psychic mosquito--Priceless!!!There are some things money can't buy...A good imagination is one of them

#26 spooksareus

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:13 PM

Don't worry about the editing Boo.
I just wrote off the cuff first thing in
the morning and I know darned well
it needs editing like crazy... :whee:
We just wanna see what your little
imagination is up to :clap:

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." -Oscar Wilde “The Picture of Dorian Gray”


#27 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:26 PM

yeah, as long as we understand what you meant, then it's perfect. Not like youre getting graded on it

#28 spooksareus

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:27 PM

:Spaz: :) Exactly so!

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." -Oscar Wilde “The Picture of Dorian Gray”


#29 Aireygrey

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:30 PM

i may actually sit down and write a really good one, one that i actually think about and not pull together off the top of my head. something to do at school tomorrow

#30 spooksareus

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Posted 20 February 2006 - 07:35 PM

lord knows you need something to do at school beside twiddle your thumbs, eh B.D?

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." -Oscar Wilde “The Picture of Dorian Gray”





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