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September 7, 2012
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Aeroplane 
A Twitter Ghost Story


* A story by Beau Cyphre *


In the air a lot of things become irrelevant, and I got this plane right in time to enjoy a window seat. 
This ten hours flight is crowded, but I didn't expect any other, and I put my headphones on to shut the noise out.
"Why don't I just give up and do myself a favor? My life is slowly turning grey and losing all its flavor.
Everything the same, again and again and again. Everything the same, again and again and again. Over and over and..."

Oh, I remember this boring yesterdays' tune. Shuffle mode can be really such a pain in the ass sometimes...
"...over, again and again and again: Monoculture. Over and over and over, again and again and again: Monoculture."
...and I push next on my remote, but somehow it doesn't work, and this fuckin' shit even gets louder now!
"No change, the world's gone insane: Monoculture. Everything that's old is new again: Monoculture"
I put down my headphones and stare out of the window. The engines make a humming noise, and we're above the clouds now.
The seat left of me is empty. Thank God! At least a little privacy on board of this packed flight.
I leave my seat and line up for the washrooms. Only three people in front of me, so I'm gonna make it.
Thought I went for the restroom in the waiting area of the airport, but oddly I can't remember the airport anymore. Has it been Frankfurt or Berlin? I'm not so sure. Turning around I see the only empty seat in this part of the plane is next to me. At least I'm lucky in this case!  Nine hours to go, says the captain.

In the washroom I am nauseous for a moment. It's a strange feeling, 'cause I never had airsickness before. I cool my face and open the door to the cabin. Must have slept for a while, 'cause the sun is going down at the horizon. It's burning like a ball red as blood on the edge of the clouds and then in an instant it's gone, leaving complete darkness outside. I startle and hold my breath, because this is impossible.
"Oh, relax!", the guy right beside me says. "Everything's already done. Nothing can do you any harm anymore." 
I look at him, try to remember when he sat down next to me. 
His jet-black hair looks like a storm, his dark blue suit is so en vogue that he normally can't be overlooked.
"It's always this way." He points to the window. "It's hanging there in the sky for a while, slowly going down, and then it drops over the edge of the horizon." 
He smiles and then, with a wink of an eye: "But this part of the show is only for you. It's just because you absolutely don't remember this moment, and you're always trying to leave this plane."
He shakes his head. His blue eyes stare at me, and I'm not sure if he's a young or an old man. A shiver is running down my spine, and I'm sure he is aware of scaring me. And I think that he enjoys it.
I slept for a while, and I shall try to remember, remember...and now I do: There were voices whispering in my head, strange voices telling me stories about strange things, and they all culminated in this one single voice talking loud and clear right beside me and the guy in the seat is the guy from my dream, and somehow he must have escaped the nightmare I saw so clear. 
Now he smiles and nods at me: "Yes, you're almost there now..." And I am, he's right, and though there are no words to describe the horror of my dream, I take a look around now, and I do exactly what he tells me to do: "Just watch them and feel!" 
His voice is hypnotizing, but I know he's telling the truth: "Nobody's here alive, my friend. This ship is sunk. All that is left are memories, and listen, listen! They're gonna tell you their stories for a very long time..."

I take a look around and I try to remember, try to recognize a face I may know from before, from "before" whatever happened or still happens here, and there are children playing, couples joking, friends hugging each other, families watching movies and the machines still roaring in the sky, making just this humming, almost relaxing sound inside. 
"But who are you?", I'm asking now. "Why do you know what will happen...or what already happened?" 
I remember a book I read sometime long ago, a book about dreams forming reality, but I don't remember a book about reality starting to look and to feel like a dream.
The pale guy smiles. "I've been always by your side, right from the beginning, and I'll only leave for a while when you come back." 
He leans over to me, coming so close now.
"This may be your final loop. But you need to remember. You need to let go now, just..."
And he grins now, with eyes so unbelievably cold. "...let them free!"
"But what's happening with these memories when I'm gone? What'll happen with those things that are left of me?"
"Oh, your memories are like immortal birds, flying free wherever they want to go, settling sometimes in the middle of the night, and when they sleep they become nightmares for the ones who are still living down there - those who believe they're alive but who are only waiting for me. I'm so damn hungry, and fear..." His eyes are so deep that I drown in them. "Fear always kills."
The turbine on the right side of the plane explodes, and panic starts immediately. The plane drops and turns and he's still smiling and talking to me: "It can be your last time, the final loop, just remember everything!"
And then after in limbo, just coming back, playing being alive? The skin of the woman in front of me catches fire, and I can't bear the smell, asking myself if there's anyone on earth I'm gonna wish to experience this nightmare. 
She's so in pain now, her shrieks are not ending, her skin and flesh stop not burning and this is a loop, this will be forever, even when I'm drifting into death's big sleep and leave those nightmares behind. So I turn to face him, and he's laughing, growing fat and fatter, eating now and there's a sense of wonder in his eyes when I close my hands around his throat, and I'm gonna leave this plane, that's for sure. Death is just the beginning.
What about a flight to somewhere where you never return from?
What if all that will be left of you are your memories?

If you want to live forever, death is the enemy.


Image: , © Beau Cyphre

Cited words from Soft Cell's tune Monoculture.


The extended version of this story gives you the content in twenty handwritten pages by the author, an original photo and a signature by Beau Cyphre.



In the air: Aeroplane - A Twitter Ghost Story

Written by Beau Cyphre in seven days at the end of August "exclusively" on Twitter and touching down now on deviantART.

My sword called Twitter




Closer: Beau Cyphre @ Facebook


Beau Cyphre / Art & Photography





Love is a drug, I realize that now, and there's no way out of my misery: I have to do what you want me to do, and you don't need to tell. This is automatic, and so I push you against the wall and spread your legs with one single move. We're sealed in a kiss, but I feel out of my body and seem to be a complete stranger now: A stranger's body possessed by my demon making love to you really old school, and this body fucks you like an animal. This body's mine, this body's me, and this body's also the sun, and I feel your reflecting heat in the same way he does, and finally so close to my orgasm I understand what's meant by the holy and the secret divine things, and our ménage à trois becomes trinity. Lust U always and say a prayer...

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