Knock Knock

The seatbelt light flickered on with a ding as the plane rumbled through an unexpected pocket of turbulence. Meg's fingers clenched the armrests, knuckles white against the tan leather. The low hum of the engines, steady and reassuring only moments ago, felt suddenly ominous.

She glanced at the man in the aisle seat beside her. He looked unbothered, scrolling idly through his phone as if the world couldn’t touch him. She envied that.

“Not a fan of flying?” he asked without looking up.

Meg exhaled sharply, willing herself to relax. “Not really.”

He finally met her gaze and smiled. “Well, statistically, it’s safer than driving. You’re more likely to get struck by lightning than be in a plane crash.”

She let out a dry chuckle. “Doesn’t really help when you’re in the air, does it?”

“Fair point.” He extended a hand. “Matt.”

“Meg.” She shook his hand, noting the firm, warm grip.

The plane jolted again. She felt her stomach drop as she gritted her teeth. Matt, unfazed, tucked his phone away and leaned back. “We’ll be fine,” he said, as if he knew something she didn’t.

Meg wished she had his confidence. “How often do you fly?”

Matt shrugged. “Enough that I don’t even notice turbulence anymore.”

Lucky him. She envied frequent flyers — people who could stare at their phones, read books, or nap without worrying about the metal tube carrying them at thirty-five thousand feet.

A ding signaled an announcement. The captain’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some unexpected weather ahead. Nothing to worry about, but we’ll be keeping the seatbelt sign on for the duration.”

Meg inhaled deeply, eyes shut. She counted her breaths, willing her nerves to settle.

“Where you headed?” Matt asked, shifting the conversation.

She hesitated. “Seattle.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Neither.” She paused, then added, “A funeral.”

Matt's easy demeanor sobered slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at him. “What about you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess you could say I’m going home.”

She nodded, accepting the vague answer. Sometimes people weren’t ready to share their stories. She understood that better than most.

The turbulence grew stronger. The plane dipped, then steadied, and Meg's heart slammed into her ribs. Murmurs filled the cabin. Flight attendants remained composed, but Meg knew better than to take comfort in that. They were trained to look calm even when the worst was happening.

The overhead bins rattled, and an oxygen mask popped loose from the compartment above the row in front of them. A collective gasp echoed through the cabin before the mask dangled harmlessly, unused.

Meg's breath hitched. “That’s not a good sign.”

Matt followed her gaze, then shrugged. “It happens.”

“Does it?”

He grinned. “Okay, no, not really. But hey, no one’s screaming yet.”

She let out a weak laugh. “That’s the bar for a safe flight?”

“Pretty much.”

The pilot’s voice returned. “We’re making an emergency landing at the nearest airport due to mechanical issues. Please remain calm.”

A collective hush fell over the passengers, then hushed whispers. Meg's blood turned to ice.

Mechanical issues.

Matt turned to her, still calm. “Hey, look at me.”

She forced her gaze to meet his.

“Breathe,” he said, as if he were guiding her through a meditation session.

She inhaled, then exhaled slowly. It didn’t help much, but it was something.

The plane started descending. Too soon, she thought. Too fast.

A baby wailed a few rows ahead. Someone whispered a prayer. The flight attendants moved swiftly, securing carts, checking passengers, their smiles just slightly tighter now.

Meg closed her eyes. She thought of her mother, of the funeral waiting for her in Seattle. She thought of the last words they exchanged, how they’d left things unresolved.

The descent continued, the plane shuddering against the wind. Then, a sudden drop. People gasped. Someone screamed. Meg's grip on the armrest turned her fingers numb.

Matt reached over, placing his hand over hers. It was warm, grounding.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

She wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

The wheels hit the tarmac harder than they should have. A violent jolt rattled the cabin. People braced. A moment later, the plane slowed. The engines whined, the force pushing them forward before everything finally — mercifully — stilled.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, a burst of relieved laughter, nervous chatter, a few quiet sobs. Meg realized she’d been holding her breath.

Matt released her hand with a small, reassuring squeeze. “Told you we’d be fine.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

The plane, however, did not begin taxiing toward a gate. Instead, the intercom crackled to life once more. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re assessing a secondary issue with the aircraft. We ask that you remain seated with your seatbelts fastened as we await further instructions.”

A murmur spread through the cabin. Meg exchanged a glance with Matt.

“This doesn’t sound good,” she whispered.

Matt nodded slowly. “No, it doesn’t.”

The plane remained still on the runway, engines humming low. The rain outside had intensified, streaking the windows with frantic patterns. A flight attendant passed through the aisle, her expression carefully composed, but her pace slightly quicker than before.

Minutes passed. Then more. The passengers were getting restless.

Matt shifted in his seat. “Whatever’s wrong, they should be telling us something by now.”

Meg's hands curled into fists. “What if we can’t take off again? What if—”

The cabin lights flickered. The intercom crackled once more, but this time, it cut off before the captain could speak. A hush fell over the plane.

Then, the engines let out a low, unnatural groan.

A sharp thud echoed from beneath them, vibrating through the floor. The oxygen masks above their heads dropped down suddenly, setting off a fresh wave of gasps and cries. Meg's pulse skyrocketed as she fumbled for the mask in front of her, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gulps.

Matt grabbed his own, pulling it over his face. “Stay calm,” he said through the muffling material. “Just breathe.”

Meg did as he said, her heart hammering. The emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie glow through the cabin. Somewhere toward the front, a flight attendant was trying to make an announcement, but her voice was drowned out by the rising panic.

Then, a new sound.

A rhythmic knocking. Slow. Deliberate.

It was coming from the outside of the plane.

Meg's grip on Matt's hand tightened.

They weren’t safe yet.

The rhythmic knocking continued, slow and deliberate, sending a fresh wave of unease through the passengers. The oxygen masks still dangled uselessly above them, some swinging slightly as the plane rocked from an unseen force. Meg's breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing.

Matt's grip on her hand tightened. “That’s not normal,” he muttered.

“No kidding,” Meg whispered back, her pulse hammering in her ears.

A voice came over the intercom, crackling with static. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. We are—” The voice cut out. Silence. Then the knocking returned, this time from multiple points along the fuselage. It was rhythmic, measured, as though something — or someone — was testing the plane’s exterior.

Someone further back in the cabin let out a whimper. A child began crying. The flight attendants, usually the picture of calm, were whispering hurriedly among themselves.

Matt released Sarah’s hand and unbuckled his seatbelt. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I need to see,” he murmured. He stood up, glancing toward the nearest window. Meg followed his gaze and immediately wished she hadn’t.

A shadow moved along the outside of the plane.

It wasn’t human. The shape was elongated, unnatural, its movements fluid yet jarring. It pressed against the window for a fleeting second, revealing a featureless, dark face before slithering away.

Meg felt her stomach turn to ice. “What the hell was that?”

Matt sat back down, his face pale. “I don’t know.”

The intercom buzzed again. This time, the captain’s voice came through, but it sounded distorted, distant. “Ladies and gentlemen… please… remain… inside.” The last word stretched unnaturally, as if something had hijacked the transmission.

The cabin lights flickered again, casting long shadows along the walls. The rhythmic knocking turned to scratching, dragging, like nails against metal. The air inside the plane felt heavier, suffocating.

A loud bang came from the emergency exit at the rear of the plane. Several passengers screamed.

One of the flight attendants, a young woman with wide eyes, stumbled forward. “Please! Everyone stay seated! Do not—”

The emergency door burst open.

Wind roared through the cabin, yanking loose papers and personal belongings into the night. Oxygen masks flailed wildly, passengers screaming as the air pressure plummeted. A man standing too close to the exit was sucked backward, his terrified shout cutting off as he vanished into the darkness.

Meg barely had time to react before Matt yanked her down between the seats. She pressed against the floor, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

A sharp, unnatural clicking echoed through the cabin — claws against metal.

The thing at the doorway moved deliberately, almost curiously, its elongated limbs stretching into the plane as if testing the space. Its shadowy form rippled, distorting like a living smear of darkness against the dim emergency lights.

Meg couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

The creature hesitated, its head tilting toward the nearest passengers — a middle-aged woman clutching her husband’s arm, a flight attendant whispering frantic prayers under her breath. It seemed to be… studying them.

Then, it lunged.

The woman screamed, scrambling back, but there was nowhere to go. The thing’s clawed fingers curled around her seat, pulling itself forward.

Meg acted without thinking. Her hands closed around a stray water bottle rolling across the aisle, and she threw it as hard as she could.

It struck the creature’s side with a thud.

The thing twitched, its head snapping toward Meg with inhuman speed.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Matt grabbed her wrist. “Run—”

Too late. The creature surged toward them, faster than anything that size should be able to move. Matt shoved Meg sideways just as a clawed hand slashed the space where she’d been a second ago. The seat beside them ripped open, foam and fabric spilling out like entrails.

Passengers screamed. Someone threw a bag. Another hurled a plastic food tray. None of it mattered. The creature barely reacted, its amorphous form absorbing each impact like it was nothing.

Meg’s heart pounded. “That’s not working.”

“No kidding,” Matt shot back, his eyes darting to the galley. A flight attendant had backed against the supply cabinets, eyes wide with terror, hands fumbling for something — anything.

Then Meg saw it.

The emergency axe.

She grabbed Matt’s arm, her voice barely a whisper. “The axe.”

Matt hesitated, his body tense as the creature loomed closer. Its faceless head tilted, as if it were listening to them.

Then, with slow, deliberate movements, it reached out — toward her.

Meg couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Matt made the decision for her.

He lunged, grabbing the nearest service cart and shoving it forward with everything he had. The metal wheels screeched as it slammed into the creature’s torso.

It staggered back — just a step, but enough.

Matt didn’t wait. He grabbed Meg’s wrist and pulled. “Move!”

They scrambled toward the galley. The flight attendant — pale, shaking—seemed frozen in shock. Matt didn’t ask permission. He reached past her, yanking the axe free from its bracket.

The creature recovered fast. Too fast.

It lunged again — just as Matt swung.

The blade connected with something solid this time. A sound like tearing fabric filled the cabin, but deeper, wrong. The creature screeched, its form twisting violently, darkness splintering like shattered glass.

The emergency lights flickered wildly. The plane shook.

Meg grabbed a second service cart and shoved it into the aisle. “Matt!”

He swung again — this time, deeper.

The creature howled, its shape collapsing inward. A vortex of pure darkness spiraled around it, its clawed hands grasping at nothing.

And then—

It was gone.

The emergency door slammed shut on its own. The wind died.

Silence fell over the plane.

Meg gasped for air, her body trembling. The oxygen masks had vanished. The luggage was back in place. The passengers, though visibly shaken, seemed… intact.

Matt still gripped the axe, his breathing heavy. Slowly, he turned to Meg.

Before either of them could speak, the intercom crackled to life.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the captain’s voice came through, eerily calm. “Apologies for the delay. We will be taxiing to the gate shortly.”

Meg stared at Matt.

His fingers tightened around the axe handle. “Did that just—”

The flight attendants moved through the aisles, their expressions blank. Business as usual.

Too usual.

Passengers murmured nervously, but no one spoke of what had happened.

Meg swallowed hard. “We’re not going to talk about this, are we?”

Matt shook his head, his grip loosening on the axe. “I don’t think we should.”

The plane began moving.

Outside, the rain streaked the windows, blurring the bright lights of the terminal.

But as they stepped onto the tarmac, Meg felt it.

Something still watched them from the dark.

And it wasn’t finished.