A Flight New York to Los Angeles

The flight was supposed to be a routine trip from New York to Los Angeles. But from the moment we boarded the plane, something felt off. The air felt heavy, and there was a palpable tension amongst the passengers.

As we took off, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. My seatmate, a nervous-looking man, seemed to share my unease. We exchanged a few nervous glances, but neither of us spoke.

As the flight progressed, the unease only grew. The flight attendants seemed on edge, and the captain's voice over the intercom sounded strained. It was as though everyone on the plane was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

And then, it did.

It started with a strange sound coming from the back of the plane. A low, guttural moaning that seemed to grow louder with each passing minute. At first, I thought it was just turbulence or the sound of the engines. But as it continued, I realized that it was something else entirely.

The flight attendants began to move through the cabin, their faces pale and their eyes wide. They whispered to one another, and I could see the fear in their expressions.

That's when I saw it. A figure, hunched over in one of the back rows, its face obscured by the shadows. It was making the noise, a deep, throaty moaning that seemed to be coming from the depths of hell.

I tried to look away, but my eyes kept being drawn back to the figure. I couldn't make out any details, but the shape of it was all wrong. It was too large, too misshapen to be human.

As the moaning grew louder, the other passengers began to notice too. They turned in their seats, their faces pale with fear. I heard someone mutter something about a demon, and a shiver ran down my spine.

The flight attendants tried to calm us down, but their words sounded hollow and unconvincing. They were just as scared as we were.

That's when the lights went out. The entire cabin was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the glow of the emergency exit signs.

The moaning grew louder, and I heard a strange clicking sound that seemed to be coming from all around us. It was like the sound of a thousand insects, all moving in unison.

I felt something brush against my arm, and I jumped in my seat. It was my seatmate, his eyes wide with terror.

"Did you feel that?" he whispered.

I nodded, too scared to speak. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my hands were clammy with sweat.

The moaning continued, and I heard the sound of footsteps moving through the cabin. But when I looked around, I couldn't see anything in the darkness.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The moaning ceased, and the clicking sound faded away. The lights flickered back on, and the cabin was illuminated once more.

The flight attendants moved through the cabin, checking on the passengers. They seemed just as confused as we were.

"What happened?" I asked one of them.

"I don't know," she said, her voice trembling. "We're trying to figure it out."

The rest of the flight passed without incident, but the tension in the air was palpable. No one spoke, and the only sounds were the hum of the engines and the occasional rustle of a magazine.

As we landed in Los Angeles, I couldn't wait to get off the plane. I grabbed my bags and hurried down the jetway, eager to put as much distance between me and that flight as possible.