A New World

Human beings; fascinating creatures they are. Their history is shrouded in mystery, and their actions as well as their path through history has left many wondering the same question: How did we do it?

How did they get from faceless useless brutes that use their fists and hands to break apart whatever scraps of food they happened across to the mass production of automated machinery that produces food on demand? How did they get from climbing trees to leveling forests? How did they get from perishing along their quests for a natural shelter in the form of caves and tight rock formations to boldly erecting hundreds of floors to challenge the sky’s authority?

Some might say it’s the brain that they have been bestowed by some divine being that long gave up on this world. Others argue that it’s a natural gift that helps them evolve and adapt to their surroundings, and that the progress that they have achieved was just a matter of time. Others call into question interdimensional and interstellar beings who once got in contact with this silly race of apes, gave them the tools needed, then turned around and disappeared just as quickly as they appeared after being exposed to the true horror of the human nature.

And a few think that it is but one power. One ability. One vice so despicable, so vile, and so unfathomably destructive, that those who hold it end up engulfing whatever is in their immediate surroundings. And when all is said and done, and there are no more resources to be claimed, no more wars to be fought, no more souls to be tormented, they engulf even themselves. That one vice that has resonated through history and has followed this cursed creature since the day its eyes met the light of the sun, and the day their skin felt the heat of life brush against them, is none other than greed.

Now. What is greed? It is simple, greed is but a want for more. Even more so, it is the need to consume. It is an empty void, self-consuming and ever expanding, that latches on to the heart of every human on this earth, and the more they grow and the more they take in their environment, the bigger that gaping hole gets.

Why is greed to blame? Well, it is quite simple indeed. Humans have no Gods, they never bow to any higher power, and they never fear any consequences from some morally perfect being that has yet to be seen. That is quite the statement, and some clarification might be needed. Whether God, or Gods, or deities in general exist, that is a discussion to be had in another universe, for such divine beings have no place in this world. This world is one dominated by humans and their ugly nature. Divinity has no place simply because it has forsaken this land deemed too foul and too evil for any good to shine through the clouds trapping everyone in a never-ending cycle of hatred and self-glorification at costs far too great to be processed by puny human minds.

When there’s an entire universe, a literal limitless expansion that grows exponentially by the second (as far as modern science can tell), what fool would turn a blind eye and set up a camp made of sticks and stones? Humans.

When faced with a simple matter: infinite wealth, interstellar conquest, one banner that unites planets spanning trillions of lightyears, a distance that is immeasurably great, or destruction and pure chaos for no apparent reason. Which one would humans choose? Obviously, the latter.

Why build when they can destroy. Why cooperate when they can hate. Why explore when you can abhor kinship. This is the kind of world that humans built, and this is a world where they can thrive and inflate their own meaningless existence. This is not meant as a criticism of the human nature, but rather it is an introduction into the psyche of humans. A species that was doomed to end its own existence since their feet first treaded this bountiful land. A species far too brutal to exist, and far too ignorant to preserve.

Such is the story of some who thought themselves too great and defiantly transmogrified their existence into different forms in order to trick time and cheat death. But after the dust had settled, it was proven that this foe was far too great for humanity. Not due to their shortcomings, but due to their innate flaw; greed. It is true, the potential is limitless, and discovery and deductive reasoning can bend the universe, but when misattributed to a species that knows only pandemonium, and a creature that knows only annihilation, the results are nothing short of tragic.

The truth I tell you, and the truth you shall find.

Those were but a few pages that Morgan found as breath was slowly filling up his lungs again. A few days had passed since the annual celebrations and festivities of the New World had concluded, but his world seemed a little bit odd. Gone were the heavy shackles that made him bow his head, and for once, he was able to look upright. Though his neckbones were grinding against his skin, very little was going through his mind.

The first thought that broke the unnerving silence in his head. “What is this sensation?” As his upper body expanded and shrunk, a he could feel a light tickle pouring through his nose. As he placed his hand upon his chest, he could feel a beat coming from within that he had never noticed before.

How could he have gone through life missing the sensation of breath entering and exiting his body? How could he have existed for nearly 30 years and yet failed to grasp the beat of his own heart? These questions started to flood into his brain, and he could not understand what they meant. Words were forming, ideas were created, questions were asked, language was shaped, and yet, it all seemed alien to him for he had no recollection of ever being taught how to formulate any of them.

He took his first glance around, and sweat beads started to drip along his face. Yet another sensation he had never felt before. When he instinctively pulled his arm up to wipe the uncomfortable trail off his face, he accidentally poked himself in the eye and felt a sharp stabbing pain in his face which caused him to recoil so hard that he slammed against a long iron barricade, causing a loud CLONK to break the stillness in his immediate vicinity.

The sudden explosion caused him to spring up to his feet and snap a look behind him. His breath got heavier, his mind went blank, and all he could do was look dumbfounded in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere. But it wasn’t. As shock settled in, he started to make out some shapes forming around him. Weirdly slender silhouettes shuffled all around him, all unphased by the event that nearly shortened his lifespan. As the haze started to clear, he started to make out faces, limbs such as arms legs started to become clearer and clearer. And that was finally the moment that the realization exploded in his vacant brain. “Humans! They must be!”

Humans they might’ve been, but nothing about them seemed alive. Some moved in groups while others moved in solitude. These groups were made up of what he assumed to be men and what he assumed to be women. Some had long hair tied in a perfect knot that seemed to move the air around it rather than the other way around. Others had short hair with surgically cut perfect streaks in a pattern that repeated along the whole scalp, forming a mesmerizing flow that made his head spin.

After a few moments passed him by as his eyes were still fixated on the dazzling hair, another sight stole his vision. Up until that point, he had only been gazing at the backs of these individuals marching forward like the fate of the world dependent on their ability to reach their destination. However, at this time, he was able to witness what these “humans” looked like from the front. What he saw were large bulbous eyes gaping and lidless. Their colors undulated between black and dark brown, peering at the ground as they moved forward with no expressions nor any unnecessary movement. They had short narrow noses that seemed to let in just enough air to help them keep he most basic bodily functions.

A Kind Stranger

 It’s your birthday, and you’ve just finished celebrations with a couple of your friends, and after a long night’s drinking, it was finally time to go back home. Being offered a ride, you respectfully decline because your home is only a couple of blocks away, and you reason that some exercises would be good to brush off the light buzz you’re currently experiencing from the alcohol and the fun that you’ve just had.

It is a quite night in mid-October, that sweet spot when it is slightly cooler with a gentle breeze that heralds the departure of the scorching summer sun in lieu of the merciless winter’s bite. As you make your way home down this familiar path you’ve taken hundreds if not thousands of times, it dawns upon you. It is already 1:30 in the morning, and though your neighbourhood is safe, you can’t seem to brush off a slight discomfort building up in the back of your neck.

Trying to keep your composure, you think of the cold pizza leftover, the absolute perfect meal after a night out, and this thought offers some solace, but without even realizing it, your pace picks up. Perhaps it was the cloudy night that dimmed the moonlight, making the streets and buildings significantly darker than they should be, but try as you may, all sorts of demonic ideas and other supernatural stories you’ve read about in the past couple of months start barrelling through your mind.

Your apartment was now within your line of sight, and a sense of relief started to wash over you like the hot stream of water making first contact with your skin on a cold day. In a heartbeat, you hear rustling to your left, a noise that could’ve easily been ignored on a normal day, but in the moment, your senses were heightened by the uncanny atmosphere whose weight was on your shoulder. The previous comfort was all but a distant memory now, and as you consider booking it to the apartment door, a stray cat jumps out of a nearby trashcan. A silly giggle escapes you, but as the sigh of relief starts making its way out of your lungs, you look up into the distance, and instantly feel every cell in your body jump at once.

It was there, it was then, it was real, and he was here. Who was he? It’s difficult to make out the details. In the midst of the yellow street light, you can see that there’s a tall man wearing a dark coat and a top hat that seem to blend into his being, and his hair is protruding out of the gap between the two. His arms are tucked in, his hands are in his pockets, and he’s standing there motionless. You feel his gaze peer into your soul, but his figure yet eludes you. Startled and helpless, you can’t muster the strength to scream for help nor the courage to look away from the man for fear that he’d somehow rush towards you. Though unmoving, his presence alone is enough to strike fear into the hearts of the most seasoned men.

For what felt like an eternity, but in reality, mere seconds, you’re interlocked in a staring contest with the shadow figure until a spark of light coming from the complex to your right captures your attention. Instinctively, you glance over to the source of this flash, but realizing the situation you’re in, you quickly swap back to the man, only to find the silhouette gone as fast as it appeared.

Now the thoughts running through your mind are “Should I run? Should I hide?” Well, you can, but unfortunately, it is already too late. Though the shadow you saw wasn’t a violent one, he is the harbinger of pain and suffering, and the simple fact that your gaze met his meant that tragedy would soon follow.

And now, for the facts.

Shadow people are a phenomenon that is witnessed by countless people around the world, no matter their culture or ethnicities. Unlike other creepy monsters and local folklore, shadow people terrorize millions worldwide, and this makes them even more intriguing.

The man described in this story is thought to be a shadow person who’s not evil at heart since he rarely ever interacts with the witnesses, but after seeing him, they experience the inexplicable death in their family, friend circles, or any loved ones.

This terrifying tale has been given by multiple eyewitnesses who also shared the death of someone whom they held dear right after seeing this “abnormally tall shadowy man wearing a hat.”

Have you ever had an encounter with a shadow person? Were they friendly? Were they hostile? Or did they simply disappear the moment you laid eyes on them? For me, I’d thought I’d seen figures out the corner of my eye on multiple occasions, but since they disappear the moment I turn to look, I often attribute it to my overactive imagination. That said, after reading up on the matter, I’m going to start treating this matter with more respect.

Thank you for taking the time to read this tale, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Pilot

Amidst the thundering battles of World War II, November 21st, 1944 was a relatively calm night. Being afforded a break from the incessant barking of orders and the drumming of heavy leather boots crashing against the ground, the Belgian Royal Airforce team was watching the clear night sky in anticipation of what tomorrow will bring their way. The soothing experience lasted for a couple of breaths, but the peace and quiet was soon broken. In the distance, the familiar buzzing of the Boeing B-17 bomber class bird started to take over the otherwise unperturbed atmosphere, and it quickly became the central attraction that claimed the entire team's attention. 

Though jets flying back from hostile territory was a welcome sight, this one had an eerie air about it. Its arrival was unannounced, unexpected, but most importantly, quite hasty. Following this sighting, the air force team assumed the worst and quickly sounded the alarms to alert the higherups who ordered immediate emergency protocol execution. 

The SUVs' engines were revved up, the soldiers buckled up, and they eagerly awaited the plane to make its landing. Inching closer, everyone expected the pilot to slow down, but to their amazement, the B-17 soared full speed across the airfield, and the touchdown was anything but graceful. Miraculously, the plane touched down in a nearby field, and the rough contact with friendly soil did not cause a major disaster. Instead, the manoeuvre looked like a routine and clean emergency landing to the untrained eye. The sight, though grim, still bore some hope that the crew may yet make it out with minimal injury. 

In a heartbeat, the soldiers, accompanied by Major John V. Crisp, surrounded the plane, and they held their breath as they awaited the emergence of the plane's crew so that they can provide prompt medical care and get answers to the questions they so desperately held. Five whole minutes went by, and the silence that was solely broken by the clanking of the propellers against the hard soil made it seem like an eternity. The clock ticked another 10 minutes, then 15, and finally 20. At that point, Mjr. Crisp grew restless, and he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

Not knowing what to expect, Mjr. Crisp took up arms in an abrupt gesture, and he cautiously made his way to the plane, taking great care as to not brush up against the fuming propellers that stubbornly kept spinning. After locating the door, the officer stepped inside of the airplane, and to his utmost horror, not a single soul was to be found on board. 

After that discovery, Mjr. Crips did not give in to his puzzled mind and troubled heart, instead, he quickly turned off the plane's engines, grabbed his report book, and noted down the whole ordeal. In his words, the parachutes were all accounted for and looked ready for use, the food was left half-eaten, and leather jackets, one of the cornerstones of the air force, were laid on the seats. But perhaps most unsettling of all, Mjr. Crips found the captain's log with the final entry being "bad flak," and he could almost feel the blank pages taunting him to write the ending to this chilling tale.

Wasting no time, Mjr. Crisps went back to his men and ordered them to scrutinize the plane screw by screw to find the crew that was once aboard this ship. Indeed, the officer knew all too well that "they disappeared without a trace" wasn't an acceptable response when asked to report the event. 

Thus, the legend of the "Phantom Fortress" which recounts the manless landing of the U.S behemoth of a plane in the Belgian airfield was born, and it did not fail to send chills down the spines of listeners, causing their imagination to run wild with possibilities as to what may have occurred on that fateful night. 

And now, for the facts of the matter.

The "phantom" B-17 was manned by Lt. Harold R. Debolt, and the crash was a result of a failed mission over the German skies that targeted oil refineries in Merseburg. After his plane was fatally wounded, the Lt. engaged the autopilot and commanded his crew to abandon ship since, by his estimation, there was no conceivable way they'd make it back to England. Luckily for them, the entire crew made it safely to a nearby allied airfield. Of course, this story does not explain the whole picture since some details are left unanswered.

Well, to understand what really happened, let's go back to Riseley, England. In 1943, young John Gell was looking up to the sky with his family, keeping a lookout for what became a tradition for them. Every now and then, they'd watch B-17 bombers and other planes come back from successful missions over German skies, but on October 14, one of the Boeings was reportedly flying with the flock until it seemingly lost control and crashed in Gell's backyard. His father, quick to lend hand, rushed towards the crash sight, but the plane was empty. 

What does that have to do with anything? Well, as it turns out, the "Phantom Fortress" was born from the merging of both stories. In other words, many have recounted the story, and the details of both planes crashing were mixed up, resulting in the creation of a false fantastic tale that haunted soldiers for a while. Further, the description about the parachutes being intact and the food being half-eaten were all conjectures, and the Major's official report never included any of these details. 

Actually, it is difficult to pinpoint exactly where the mix-up happened, but a book written by Martin Caidin in 1991 titled "Ghosts of the Air: True Stories of Aerial Hauntings" features the story of Gell, and it may have been the catalyst for the tale. 

So, what do you think? Is this legend an intentional act meant to spook listeners? Or can it simply be brushed off as human error? Well, I for one am impressed at the number of unmanned planes that somehow manage to crash-land themselves at very convenient places. No matter the case, I hope you enjoyed this read. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this text, I would greatly appreciate any feedback, have a good one!

The facts reported in this post have been mostly taken from the following sources: 

- Brian Dunning: The Phantom Fortress

- The Why Files - Legend of the Phantom Fortress | The Ghost Plane that Flew and Landed Itself

- Christopher Hoitash: Phantom Fortress: The Crewless Landing of a B-17