Endless Loop

Evelyn’s breath quickened, the air in the cabin suffocating, as though the world around her had thinned. Her fingers dug into the armrests, feeling the worn fabric with its subtle roughness beneath her fingertips, but the pressure couldn’t anchor her. The hum of the airplane engines sounded distant, like the world had slipped into another dimension. The faint scent of recycled air, tinged with a hint of coffee and sanitizer, filled her nostrils. It should’ve felt routine, but everything felt off, like she’d been here before, caught in this moment of rising panic.

The flight had started like any other ,smooth takeoff, calm altitude, the flight attendants offering drinks and small talk. Then came the silence. Not a lull, but an absolute stillness that seemed to press into every corner of the cabin. No rustle of fabric, no clink of ice in cups, no soft whispers of conversation, only the hum of the engines penetrating the strange quiet.

Evelyn turned to the man beside her. Moments ago, he’d been typing away on his laptop, the rhythmic tapping a comforting background noise. Now, his hands hovered above the keyboard, frozen, his eyes wide and empty. A cold dread swept through her, and her stomach churned. The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth.

She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against his wrist. Nothing. No pulse, no warmth radiating from his skin, just an unnatural coolness that made her recoil.

A strangled gasp caught in her throat, but she fought it down, forcing herself to breathe. This isn’t real, she told herself, the words coming out in a whisper. She shook her head, as if the simple motion could reset the world. “It’s just a dream. Just a dream,” she said, trying to convince herself. Her voice trembled, but she whispered the words as if speaking to them aloud could make it all vanish.

The advice her grandmother had always given her resurfaced in her mind, faint but certain: “You’re never truly alone, Evelyn. Just listen. The answers are always there, waiting for you to hear them.” It was the same advice that had guided her through childhood nightmares and adult anxieties alike.

She twisted in her seat, eyes scanning the cabin. The mother in 14A cradled her baby against her chest, both unnervingly still. The elderly couple across the aisle sat hand in hand, their faces peaceful, their eyes closed. The businessman three rows ahead remained suspended mid-sip, his coffee neither spilling nor moving.

I’m dreaming. It’s not real. I’m just dreaming. The words echoed in her mind, yet carried a hollow ring, like she’d chanted this mantra before.

The passengers, every last one of them, were frozen. Except for her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, the frantic rhythm making it harder to focus. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the seatbelt, struggling with the buckle, the cold metal slipping against her trembling fingers. Dizziness swam through her, but she fought it down, forcing herself to stand, to move. She had to stay in control. She walked down the aisle, her boots tapping against the carpet, the only sound in the entire cabin, each step echoing in the unnatural silence.

Another whisper. Her grandmother’s voice again, faint but clear: “Don’t fear the silence. It’s only a place for you to hear your own thoughts, your own truth.”

She touched the shoulders of passengers, shook arms, pressed fingers to cool skin. Nothing. There was nothing but the hollow silence and stillness. The overhead lights cast strange shadows across their frozen faces, making them appear almost like wax figures rather than people.

This isn’t real. It can’t be. But it was real, wasn’t it? The cabin was empty, save for her. There was no one to explain what had happened, no one to reassure her. No pilots. No flight attendants. No answers. Just the gentle sway of the plane as it continued on its predetermined path to...where? She couldn’t even remember the destination anymore.

The intercom crackled to life. Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. The static came first, followed by distorted words, broken and incomprehensible at first, like a radio caught between stations.

“…sit down…”

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She glanced at the timer on the instrument panel, red digits flickering, counting down.

00:14

Her chest tightened. What was she supposed to do with fourteen seconds? What did it mean? A flash of déjà vu swept over her. She’d seen these numbers before, felt this same confusion.

A sudden flash of clarity washed over her, her grandmother’s voice sharper this time: “Time’s a teacher, Evelyn. When the moment comes, you’ll know what to do. Don’t doubt yourself.”

00:09

It’s not real. It’s not real. She turned and bolted back into the cabin, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She couldn’t think. Her thoughts spiraled, her mind desperate for a way out. The confined space of the airplane suddenly felt like a trap, the rows of seats an obstacle course she needed to navigate. Then another voice cut through, sharp and cold.

The intercom crackled again.

“…you have to remember…”

00:05

The walls closed around her. The air thickened, the pressure rising, as if something unseen was trying to crush her. She stumbled, fighting the urge to retreat. The overhead compartments seemed to lower, the ceiling pressing down. But she wouldn’t let fear win. Not again. The word “again” echoed in her mind like a revelation.

A sudden realization gripped her.

I’ve been here before.

This wasn’t the first time. The fear, the silence, the countdown, it was all part of the same loop. The airplane wasn’t just a place, it was a recurring nightmare she’d experienced countless times. But this time, Evelyn knew better.

The voice continued, crackling and distorting through the plane’s speakers.

“…sit down.”

No.

The walls trembled, the lights above flickering. The frozen passengers’ eyes followed her now, their pupils empty and hollow, but somehow...aware. Their heads turned in unison, tracking her movements down the aisle. Their mouths opened too wide, stretching beyond what should be physically possible, and the voice that issued forth was not their own.

“SIT. DOWN.”

The countdown reset.

00:14

Evelyn clenched her fists, her whole body trembling with defiance. “I remember now,” she said to the surrounding air. “I know what you are.” The airplane shuddered in response, as if her words were physical weight.

00:09

The voice howled in anger, the cabin warping as shadows stretched and flickered. The passengers’ mouths opened wider, grotesque and silent. The plane’s walls seemed to bend and twist as if reality itself were unraveling. The overhead bins popped open, oxygen masks dropping but hanging perfectly still, suspended in time like everything else.

00:05

The fear gripped her, the instinct to obey, to sit, to submit. The seatbelts across the aisle unclasped themselves, slithering like snakes, inviting her back. But Evelyn didn’t move. She stood tall, feet rooted to the floor of the plane, and with one final breath, she let go.

She released the fear.

She released the illusion.

The plane shattered.

The walls crumbled into darkness. The passengers dissolved into mist. The lights blinked out, and the hum of the engines fell silent. Evelyn was falling. No awakening.

Her eyes snapped open.

She was back in her seat, the leather cool against her arms.

The businessman beside her adjusted his tie, his fingers tapping on the keyboard, oblivious to her. The baby in 14A whimpered softly, the mother soothing it with a gentle murmur. The elderly couple across the aisle whispered softly to one another, their conversation fluid, unaffected. The flight attendant pushed the beverage cart forward, the wheels squeaking slightly on the carpet.

The cabin was normal. The plane was normal. The gentle vibration of flight, the subtle changes in cabin pressure against her eardrums, the soft whirr of the air conditioning vents, all perfectly ordinary.

But Evelyn’s hands trembled as they gripped the armrests. Her heart was still pounding, the memory of what she had just lived through hanging heavily on her chest. She swallowed, her breath shallow.

The overhead chime sounded. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly. Thank you for flying with us.” The captain’s voice was cheerful, mundane, a stark contrast to the distorted commands she’d heard moments before.

She glanced at her watch.

00:00

She looked out the window, the clouds parting to reveal glimpses of the city below. But beyond the clouds, something watched her. A presence, waiting, watching. The glass reflected her face, but behind her reflection, in the vast expanse of sky, she sensed it, the thing that had trapped her in this loop, time and again.

This time, Evelyn didn’t look away.

She met its gaze, unflinching, steady.

She was no longer afraid.

The world had changed. And so did she.

As the plane began its descent, banking gently to align with the runway, Evelyn felt a strange peace settled over her. The airplane cabin, once a prison of repeating nightmares, now felt different. She ran her fingers along the window frame, feeling the cool plastic grounding herself at the moment.

“First time flying?” the businessman beside her asked, noticing her white-knuckled grip on the armrest.

Evelyn smiled, the irony not lost on her. “No,” she replied. “But I think it’s the first time I’ve been awake for it.”

He gave her a puzzled look before returning to his laptop.

The plane continued its descent, the ground growing closer, more detailed. But Evelyn knew that somewhere, in another reality perhaps, a countdown was resetting.

And this time, she’d be ready.