3
I wheeled the
suitcase across the linoleum floor, which drowned beneath the constant buzz of
announcements reverberating from the ceiling. None of it mattered, though. Not
to me, at least. They were simply noise in the background, the din of a world
in constant transit.
At the check-in
counter, the line pressed forwards, albeit unevenly, each traveller inching
closer to the desk. By the time it was my turn, however, I had already gone
through each motion several times in my head out of habit. Used to have severe
anxiety as a youth, so thinking about what to do, what to say, and how to do
all this put my mind at ease. And that was exactly what I did even now, with
the passport in my hand and the things I was to say fully memorised. Even so, the
clerk barely looked at me. Not even as I placed the suitcase onto the belt and
the weight caused blinking on the digital screen. What happened instead was
that the clerk, a young woman in formal attire, said something under her
breath. It happened so quickly that I barely registered that she was saying
something.
What was taking so
long, anyway?
I let my gaze
wander at that point. Not sure why. Maybe it was the feeling of something watching
me or the constant background noise of announcements, but… I don’t know how to explain
all this. Maybe it was my unsound mind playing tricks or just intuition, if you
will. All I knew was that I felt something that shouldn’t be there. Not really.
But as I looked across the terminal, people of all walks of life came into my line
of sight. Some sat in rows of benches, chatting with fellow travellers, while others
stood with cups of coffee in their hands, relaxing, or entire families walking
briskly to catch their plane. I scanned the place without thinking much. Why
would I? That is, until I turned my head in the opposite direction.
They were staring
at me. All of them.
Dozens of eyes
turned towards me without warning, blank and empty like a shell without soul, like
a room full of mannequins. Motionless. As if the entire airport had stopped
breathing… to watch me. But not just watch me, to keep an eye on me. I think.
Even now, in the comfort of my own skin, I’m not sure how to describe this feeling
that rose in my gut. Only, I… feared. There was nothing but darkness in those
eyes that fixed on me, no reflection, no blinking, no recognition. Only. Vast.
Darkness. Like they were all dead inside or pretty darn good actors trying to
mess with my senses. Maybe it was both.
When I blinked
unwittingly, the world resumed. Those hollow eyes that followed me were no
more. Like it was all in my head. It had to be. So, why did I doubt myself? I
could swear those people looked at me, that they followed me with hostile eyes.
Yet… it all happened so abruptly, so fast, that I couldn’t wrap my head around
what was happening until the moment passed and—
“Here,” the clerk
said, sliding the boarding pass across the counter.
Right. I almost
forgot.
I murmured a brief
thank you, albeit still shaken, took the ticket and got out of the line.
The terminal spanned
ahead in a blur, with people passing by with hurried steps on either side, signs
pointing in every direction. I drifted towards the escalators, which was the
only way I could describe it without sounding completely mad. Like a ghost or
something, not quite myself. Not yet. Each step was weighed down by a heavy
burden, harrowing thoughts that got nowhere the more I thought things over. Was
I slowly losing my sanity?
On the second floor,
the overhead lights washed everything in a pale glow. One even flickered for a few
seconds as I passed by, then stopped completely. Not that I put too much
thought into these strange occurrences. I had no reason to at the time. Had I
known half of what I knew as I was putting all these thoughts into paper, I
might have figured out something wasn’t as it seemed. But I didn’t know.
The air here seemed
thinner, clearer. Even the chatter of the numerous travellers trying to check in
dimmed, replaced by the low rhythm of conveyor belts and the sound of trays
being stacked in the distance. But as I started for the security checkpoint up
ahead, I understood the reason behind this arcane stillness that did not last
as long as I wished it would. In jagged lines stood several stanchions, guiding
travellers like they were all cattle.
I joined the queue
and watched as the people ahead slipped off their shoes, belts, and electronics,
piling them into grey plastic bins. When my turn finally came, I did the same
without thinking, shedding little pieces of myself. The detector did not find
anything unusual, but that detail did not stop the security from thoroughly searching
me, like I were posing a security threat by my mere existence. What I didn’t
know was that things were about to get worse. At the police control, that is.
The officer turned
the pages slowly as I slid over my passport, far too slowly in my humble
opinion, the way someone leafed through a diary instead of a document. His eyes
traced every line, every crease, every ink mark as though it might tell him
something that would allow him to deny my entrance. Then, finally, he looked
up. But the way he looked at me, judging, told me he didn’t like what he was
seeing.
“Where are you
travelling?”
“Israel, sir.”
He raised his brow.
“And what is the purpose of your visit?”
“A legal matter,” I
said. “Is… there a problem?”
The officer looked
dead in my eyes as I asked this, as if he weighed the options in his head
before choosing to remain silent and extending his hand to return the passport.
I barely nudged the passport when he shot out his hand and wrapped it around my
arm, pulling me close so that no one else could hear him. No one but me. I’d
never felt this scared in my adult life. Never heard words of warning of this
scale before. Like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Be careful or you’ll
face the same fate…”
Then he let go as
if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I was so out of it,
honestly, that it didn’t even occur to me to ask what this was about or why he
was telling me this. Or what he meant by ‘you’ll face the same fate’. The same
fate as who, exactly? I wished I could go back in time and ask him how he knew…
Then again, things had started spiralling out of control the day I received
that letter from the solicitor. Even if I did ask him back then, I might
not have understood it. Not really. Not all of it.
Instead, I snatched
the passport and slipped through the police control without a word. Moving blindly
at first, unable to think straight still, my feet carried me faster than my
thoughts, weaving through the maze of corridors and signs, past travellers in
haste and the constant hum of wheels on the floors.
It wasn’t until I
spotted the gates on the overhead screens that I slowed and drew a shaky, deep
breath. What had just happened to me? And why had the other passengers not said
anything? The guy was literally—a breath. On my neck. So fleeting. Gasping, I
turned around. My chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, the frantic beat like
a drum in my ears. What was that? I knew I… heard something. Like a whisper. Or
maybe just… breathing.
Fuck! What was the
matter with me? It was nothing. There was nothing behind me. Nothing at all.
Nothing could explain what just happened.
The departure
lounge opened up before me as I finally gathered enough courage to keep
advancing. Windows showed the runways outside and made the entire place much
brighter at once. Even the aeroplanes, with their wide wings, seemed like birds
ready to release into the air from where I stood.
The whole lounge
was riddled with benches along the walls, occupied by people slouched under the
harsh light, the majority staring at their phones. Overhead, monitors showed several
flight numbers and destinations, some delayed and blinking red. I sat down on
one of the vacant benches and pulled out a battered paperback from my backpack,
and tried to read despite the noises around me since the boarding was not due
for another ninety minutes. But the words blurred together, turning into
nonsense no matter how many times I tried to focus. With all those people
around me and the constant bellow of children running amok like they owned the
place, it would be a miracle to understand even a single sentence of what I was
reading. Trying to read, that is.
Things didn’t get
any better by the fact that time dragged more slowly here. At least that was
how it felt. For a while. I could swear an hour had passed already, maybe more.
But the clock above the gate disagreed with me, it seemed. But that was hardly
the strangest part of all of this. The world outside had shifted, and the sky
dimmed. I wasn’t an astrologist or a scientist, but I knew that the sun wasn’t
supposed to give way to night until an hour later in this part of the world.
So, what exactly was this ominous feeling swelling in my gut and taking over
every inch of my being?
Restless, I put the
book away and approached the airport staff in a neon vest to ask whether I had
found the wrong gate, or whether my plane had been delayed. But before I could
reach him, something tapped against my feet in the milling crowd, and I lost sight
of the man.
Its face was
unnaturally pale, lips painted dark like crimson. With its glossy, black eyes,
it stared up at me—no, it looked through me. Like it had a soul equal to mine. Its
neatly arranged hair draped down its shoulders, tied sleekly with a white ribbon.
The design was unmistakably vintage, one of those Japanese dolls that had once
been all the rage in the 90s.
Turning it in my
hands, the porcelain was cold and heavier than it looked. I checked the crevices
for a tag, a name – anything that might help me find its owner, thinking maybe
someone had lost it and tucked a number inside. That was when a curl of hair
brushed against my arm, warm to the touch. It wasn’t made of plastic or
whatever it was supposed to be made of. Was it real or—I frowned, almost losing
my grip of it. For the briefest of seconds, its lips moved. A tiny shift,
almost invisible. As though it had read my mind and mocked me with a crooked
grin. Like it were a person, not an inanimate thing.
“Final call for
boarding, Gate 14. Final call.”
The announcement pulled
me back into reality. Hard. It was my gate.
I shoved the doll
into my backpack and started jogging, then broke into a full sprint as I saw
the gate attendants glance at their watches. Fumbling in my pocket for a short
while, catching my breath, I handed over the passport for inspection, and then tried
to calm my racing heart before a final nod from the lead attendant signalled I
could proceed.
I lunged through
the sliding doors and onto the jet bridge, which was unusually narrow for some
reason and vacant now that every other passenger beside me had already passed through.
I wasn’t claustrophobic by any means, never had been, but something about the
feeling of being trapped got hold of me and disturbed my senses. It felt like
the bloody walls were closing in, suffocating me. Thankfully, it didn’t last
for too long.
At the cabin door,
the stewards greeted me with wide smiles as they welcomed me aboard.
“Sorry,” I said,
feeling apologetic for causing the delay, even though I had technically not
been late. Only, time seemed to have… shifted. Somehow. Unnaturally. How? I don’t
know. I just knew.
As I was walking down the aisle, head dropped
low, still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing, it hit me that the shadows
moved erratically, pivoting in my direction as I passed by. Like the passengers
were all turning their heads towards me. Not in the casual, fleeting way
strangers glance at someone passing, but with some kind of intensity, as though
I had entered a place uninvited. When I looked up, however, the shadows
returned to normal. No one was looking at me. No one…
I hurried to my
seat near the emergency exit, beside the wings. The woman already seated there
pulled her daughter close as she noticed me, probably out of habit. Apologetically,
I took off my jacket and was about to place my backpack on the overhead compartment,
when I noticed the girl staring at something with curious eyes. The doll. It
poked out of the backpack I had failed to zip in my haste to reach the plane.
She shifted her
gaze to mine as she saw me hesitate, so I pulled it free. I mean, the doll wasn’t
even mine to begin with. Neither did I have any use for it. Better it stay with
someone who wants it, right?
“Ma’am? Uhm, do you
mind if I… gave this to your daughter?” I said, probing carefully not to sound
like a darn predator. “I found it at the airport and I thought… that maybe…”
The child’s mother,
who had been occupied with her phone at the time, now flickered between me and
the doll, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to tell me, before giving the ‘go ahead’
sign.
The girl’s face lit
up as I handed it over. “Here, take it.”
Believe me when I
say the kid didn’t once let go of the doll, not even once. She kept playing
with it, turning to show me now and then that she had a blast and was grateful.
It reminded me of my daughter and our bond, of all the memories we shared back
when life wasn’t this cruel and miserable. Then I caught myself smiling subtly.
But not for too long. It moved. Or rather, its head tilted. The doll’s head. Looking
at me, trying to. Seeing that, my smile faded, and something twisted in my gut.
Feeling unsettled, I was about to ask the girl to give the doll back when the
intercom buzzed without warning.
“Cabin crew,
prepare for take-off.”
The stewards started
moving down the aisle, reminding passengers to stay seated and fasten their
seatbelts. A few passengers were still standing, adjusting carry-ons or
stretching their legs before the final roll. The stewards guided them gently back
to their seats, as professionally as they were trained to.
A few minutes
later, seatbelts clicked shut across the cabin, and the plane took off. Lights
out. No other sound present but that of the engines spurting to life and
picking up. Faster. The world slipping away, becoming nothing but a speck in
the sky…
My eyes drifted to
the doll unbeknownst to myself, like in a trace or a bad dream of which there
was no escape. My eyes narrowed as I took in the sight before me, trying to
make sense of it. Huh? Its mouth. It was wider now, like it was smiling.
Grinning? Or perhaps… laughing?
Then it faded.
The smile.
When I took my eyes
off it, the girl was staring at me. Inside her sockets were no eyes, only empty
holes overflowed with crimson blood. I flinched, tried to stand up, but the
seatbelt tethered me back in place.
A hand fell on my
shoulder.
I flinched.
“Sir, please remain
seated.”
I blinked,
wheezing. My eyes settled on the girl again, but she wasn’t looking at me anymore.
Just playing with that… thing.
“Sir? Is everything
okay?”
The child and her
mother now turned to face me, like they were expecting a reply too. Or perhaps gauging
my response, assessing how far gone I was, what kind of answer I would give.
“…Yeah. I’m… I’m
fine, thank you. I just—” I wetted my lips, feeling my throat become dry. “—something
to drink.” I faced the stewardess now, white as a sheet, completely out of it. “Please.”
To be continued...
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