The Pilot

The pilot. It was a particularly busy season at the airport, and even though we were all stressed out, my coworker seemed happy at the thought that maybe this airport would get expanded and finally get upgraded. Dayton County's airport was closed and it was the second largest in the area. A snowstorm, they said, But really I think it was from poor management. We've handled snowstorms better than us before. There were lots of things that I didn't like about working with airlines and airports. Aside from the long hours, it had to do with the people that you see during your shifts, mainly the customers. Yes, I understand that travel is stressful for everyone, but come on, yelling at the person who's trying to help you. It does not make things better for anyone. My work friend laughed after an old lady got angry at me for being in the wrong counter and having to wait another ten minutes somewhere else. Clearly her fault, right, but not in her mind. Nancy simply smiled after realizing that it had really bothered me, wanting to tell me that she was almost about to retire, and her advice, as always was that it could always get worse, and with that she was right. I had just started at Hasting Continental and there were lots of things to learn right from the very first day. During one of my shifts, I was assigned to the gate check counters. I was a person checking the tickets, scanning them and calling out the seat sections, just like so many other things with Hastings. Some of our equipment was failing that night, so I got a printed out list to cross check the tickets and allow people to board the old fashioned way. A woman with the stroller came by, smiling right at me as I went up and down the list looking for her name, Collie Bloom, she said with a k. The baby started crying at the gate, as an older gentleman started rolling his eyes and sighing out loud long enough for everyone to hear. The woman with the stroller got her baby to be quiet very quickly, and she acknowledged the man behind her, not in the courteous way, but more in the you're the one being annoying type of way. I was already having a tough night and the time was running out to check everybody in. Thankfully, we got through everything, and that was that. There were two other people that had not arrived at the gate, and from what the list on the computer said, they had not checked in at the counter and had not gone through security. So we were set. I let out a sigh of relief looking at the screen, when I was startled by a man directly across from me. He was dressed in a black suit, as if he was going to a meeting or a funeral. His hair was slicked back, still wet, and the creases of his white shirt were sharp enough to cut his throat. Can I help you, I asked him, preparing myself to take my best guesses, or to direct them to the airport map. I didn't know this airport very well, but I had made a mental note to take pictures of the old paper maps that were still along the two main hallways of it. This airport was old, and it was lined with all sorts of photographs and artifacts from when it was first built. Though artifacts might seem a bit too formal to call them, there were mainly old signage in those maps, plays had not changed in forty years. Apparently I will be boarding this aeroplane, he said, forcing a smile. I asked for his boarding pass, and he simply ignored my question and stared at me. His yellow teeth were beginning to show as his job began to draw, and that in se right before one begins to speak or yell. I asked for his name. Searching for the piece of paper with the list of passengers that I had to go through while trying to catch a glimpse of the computer screen, and once more to see if maybe one of the passengers had checked in for the flight at the last second. The list was on the other side of the monitor, and I took a step toward it. I grabbed it and looked back toward the man, but he was gone. I looked around and then walked in front of the counter, just in case he had fallen, even though he did not look that old, and I could tell that something was off about him. That's when it hit me and heard it many times befoward during the trainings. If something feels off, say something. I picked up the phone of the counter, which thankfully was working, and I asked for the supervisor. In my nervousness, I didn't realize that she was the one that had answered. To begin with. A man in a white shirt, black coat, black pants just was here Janet. The supervisor was probably so confused at the call, I simply put the phone down and ran toward one of the airport's security guys. I explained to him that a man had likely gone past the gate check without permission and described what he looked like. He radioed some assistance and asked me to alert the staff on board about the intruder. I looked up the instructions for that and alerted them. They said that nobody had gone into the plane, that they were all clear to close the doors. I described him again, and an older gentleman with a white shirt black suit. The flight attendant then asked if he looked like a pilot. Yes, I replied. The flight was delayed for a few minutes as they did a search, and one of the other security guards checked the camera footage. What surprised me the most was that there was no man there. There was nobody in the footage when it showed me looking across the counter and then searching for the list of passengers. My co workers, including Nancy, teased me for a while after that, though Nancy was a little nicer about it. She said that she believed me because it wasn't the first time that someone had talked about the man in the black suit at that airport, stories of a pilot whose plane crashed during a take off attempt at that very place. I still think about that night. It's tough to forget what he looks like, especially after passing by his black and white photograph down the main corridor at the start of every shift. Cousin Daniel, I ran away from the yellowy pile of Pooh by my doorway. If it weren't for my younger cousin being unable to hold his laughter from behind the bushes, I probably would have cried at the thought of having it stained my new welcome Matt. We both came out from the yard, my cousin Eric holding his phone recording the whole thing, while my other cousin, his older brother, smacked him behind the head for ruining the prank. Daniel walked right past me into the refrigerator and then asked if my mom was home. I ignored him too, picking up the plastic Pooh toy thing and throwing it at his back. He laughed as he opened a can of doctor pepper and then walked over to the couch. It was just how we got along there are too many pranks to count with him, and even though I'm not that big of a prankster, my jokes on him were pretty good. Some of them even made him cry. There were several times when I got in trouble for taking things too far. One time I scared him during a sleepover, and I swear it was the best prank ever. They were still kids and we didn't have phones to record it, so he explains it a certain way. Well, I explained it, but what actually happened it was easy too. I waited for him to fall asleep and woke them up by wearing a white bed sheet. Literally, that was it. He screamed and cried and then had a tough time going back to sleep. I couldn't hold in my laughter. Even when my aunt talked to me about never doing that again. She never told me why. I could always count on his younger brother to tell me what the truth was. But it took longer than I thought it would for him to finally spill the beans. And when he told me what the real problem was, honestly I couldn't believe him. My mom used to say to leave the topic up to their family, but did confirm some strange rumors around the family that Daniel was born after his dead twin brother, and that when he was growing up it would take him to the doctor to talk about what he was experiencing, mainly nightmares of his dead twin brother trying to communicate with him. When I finally got Daniel to talk about it, he said that yeah, that he could see him sometimes, that his dead brother had saved him out of some serious trouble as he got older, that he would show up as a shadow sometimes, but most of the time it was through a voice that he would hear at random times of the night. It would tell him things that happened, or would settle some of his doubts about what was about to occur. I don't know how true that was. All I know is that now I believe him. He had agreed to go out one night and that he was going to dry but I got off of work early and I decided to go over to his place and hang out there for a bit before leaving. This was the perfect opportunity for a prank. I know that he would normally leave the door to his kitchen open, and all I would have to do was to sneak in there and mess with him a little bit, maybe take his phone or something. I don't know. There was still the chance that I would come in there and he would be sitting on the couch doing nothing. But there was also a slight chance that he was in his room and wouldn't see me come in. It was around seven pm and the sun had already set. I parked the car at the front curve and creeped around to the side of the house and then went inside. I could hear the shower going to the bathroom door. This was going to be too easy. But as I stepped past the kitchen and into the living room and every single light of the house started turning on and off, the TV buzzed from channel to channel, and suddenly started hearing a voice worrying all around me. That's when I heard an angry voice coming from the bathroom. Mannie, that's enough. Stop. It was Daniel's voice, calling out to a person named Mannie. The lights and everything suddenly stopped acting strange, and a dead silence filled the room once more. Only the shower could be heard coming from the bathroom door in the hallway. Chills ran down my back and faded quickly replaced by the brush of cold blood filling up my face. I ran outside through the same door I came in through, and waited in the car until my cousin answered my text. I never brought it up to anybody but Mannie. The spirit that Daniel was talking to, was the name given to his twin brother Mikey in his tricycle continues. Right after this, I came back home for the holidays, and I had to deal with the exact same awkwardness that I had experienced every single time that I did that, with Mom treating me as if I had never left, demanding that I take off the trash, that I go grab stuff that she forgot from the supermarkets, and to clean the bathroom. How I hated doing that when I was still living there. Honestly, I think the weirdest thing for me was bumping into people that I knew from high school while I was out at the store or other places. Everyone wanted to know what I was up to, and they all, and I mean every single one of my friends wanted to show off their new baby photos, as if Instagram hadn't been flooded by their pictures already and their accounts muted by me. Also, Mom forgot to get a can of cranberry sauce from the store, and I was out driving her minivan around once again, down those wide streets. Things weren't the same in Los Angeles, with traffic and cars lighting up the curbs and sides of the streets wherever possible. Here, parking lots were abundant. I missed that about this area of Sycamore. Even the boring nights with my friends just hanging out in someone's porch or driving around to the creek didn't seem so boring anymore. I drove past Oak Lane on my way back from the store, and no, I didn't see or recognize anybody at that hour, Thank goodness. I made a mental note to only go out to the store right when they were about to close in order to not bump into anyone I knew. I pulled over to the side thanks to one of those waves of memories. Do you ever get those when the whole environment, to the music, or even just an action that you used to do back in the day brings back absolutely every feeling rushing back to you. Well, that happened right as it passed Oak Lane. I pulled over and then made a U turn, stopping right before turning into that dark street. There was a reason why I hesitated, and it had to do with Mikey. Back when I was little, my family used to live on Oak Lane on some apartment building that had since been torn down, but it had lots of nice memories attached to it. As I grew up, I realized that the apartment was far from ideal, but to me at the time, it was home and I loved it. One of the experiences that will never leave me happened right along those streets. Buildings were being purchased for the land in order to put in the series of warehouses or businesses like that. Supposedly the railroad track was about to go back in operation. Businesses from other counties were purchasing them up fast. There was one small apartment building that was on the list to be torn down and was completely empty at the time. The entire places had no doors or windows, and some of us kids from the surrounding apartment buildings used them as a playground. Sometimes one of them had a dried up pool and we used to use it to ride around and our scooters in there. It was during one of these times when I met a little boy named Mike He pulled up on a tricycle, asking if he could play with us. I looked up at him from the empty pool and asked him to come down, but instead he just circled around the pool area on his tricycle, laughing, just laughing. It was like that for most of the time that we lived there. Going back to that place and a few others, I remember writing our scooters since none of us could write skateboards yet, and I remember Mikey circling around us with this tricycle the whole time, never saying anything, just laughing. Eventually that place was torn down, and then our building was also. Then we moved to where my parents have lived ever since. Just to think of how much that place had changed and how long I had been gone makes me feel this strange sense of peace inside. I couldn't help it. I drove past that street and pulled the windows all the way down. The warehouses were never built and the railroad track never went back into operation, but the street was still kept clean by the city, and it seemed pretty well lit in certain areas, with patches of pitch black darkness in between. Off the music of the radio as I rolled by with my foot so only on the brake pedal. As I looked for the spot where we used to live. I remember chasing after the ice creamn down the street and talking to my first crush, Isabelle, the girl who lived in the building across the street. We used to talk out on the curb. I figured I would just go all the way to the end of it until I got to the cul de sac, and then turned back around when I spotted the place where the old building used to be, the one with the empty pool. Staring into the old barren lot, I noticed that the hole where the pool used to be was still there. Strange feelings surrounded me even more this time. That's when I heard the squeaks like rats coming outside the car. I snapped back into it and looked up ahead in the road when I noticed a tiny silhouette moving in the lot. Squeaks were coming closer. It went around in circles until the whispers flowing through the air turned into laughter. I let out a gasp as I realized what I was looking at, and Little Mikey noticed his tricycle turned toward me as he pedaled faster and faster he approached. As I panicked in deciding whether to roll up the window or stepped on the gas first. I chose a gas. My tires screeched as I went full speed ahead. I looked behind me through the mirror and was able to see the tricycle creeping up toward the middle of the street and disappearing into the dark patches of road. I turned my head back to over the front windshield, slowing down. This time, I almost came to a complete stop, trying to catch my breath. That's when I saw his eyes. I saw his smile. Scary Story Podcast is written and produced by me Edwin Kovarus. You can find me on Instagram at Edwin Cove. That's e d w I n c o V. You can also find the podcast accounts over on Scary Story podcast dot com. Thank you for leaving a review and following the show. For more creepy stuff, check out True Scary Story and a Dark Memory for a completely different experience. See you soon.