Ghosts on a Plane

By M. L. Bullock

Some things are far scarier than flying!

 

Will Bonnie survive the ghost storm headed her way?

 

After months of work and focused therapy to overcome her fear of flying, Bonnie Overton is ready to make the flight back home to Rachel Island. It's been too long since she's seen her sister, Amy, and with a niece on the way, it is a trip she has to make if she wants to keep her promise to her mother. Bonnie will soon find out that her phobia is nothing compared to what she and the other passengers on Flight 1199 will experience when the airplane falls prey to a swarm of evil ghosts. Will fellow passenger Heath Blake, a man with a dark family secret, be able to save her from the onslaught of hauntings headed their way?

 

Is Bonnie's fear of flying irrational, or is it a lifelong premonition of a frightening fate that she cannot escape? Can she survive ghosts on a plane?

 

M.L. Bullock's latest ghost story Ghost on a Plane is a standalone horror story.

 

For more of M.L. Bullock's paranormal books, check out her other ghost series including Seven Sisters, Idlewood, and Sugar Hill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.L. Bullock
• Release date: Aug 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201800413

M. L. Bullock

M. L. Bullock is the bestselling author of the Seven Sisters series. Born in Antigua, British West Indies, she has had a lifelong love affair with haunted houses, lonesome beaches, and forgotten places. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast and regularly haunts her favorite hangout, Dauphin Island. A visit to Historic Oakleigh House in Mobile, Alabama, inspired her successful supernatural suspense series Seven Sisters. For more information, visit mlbullock.com.

Book preview

Ghosts on a Plane

By M.L. Bullock

A Standalone Horror Story

Text copyright © 2017 Monica L. Bullock

All rights reserved

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the ghosts of Mt. Perry, Ohio.

Thank you for the many sleepless nights, the sounds of footsteps and especially the surprises.

Table of Contents

Chapter One—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Two—Heath Blake

Chapter Three—Starr Garcia

Chapter Four—Gregory Lawless

Chapter Five—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Six—Heath Blake

Chapter Seven—Starr Garcia

Chapter Eight—Gregory Lawless

Chapter Nine—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Ten—Heath Blake

Chapter Eleven—Starr Garcia

Chapter Twelve—Gregory Lawless

Chapter Thirteen—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Fourteen—Heath Blake

Chapter Fifteen—Gregory Lawless

Chapter Sixteen—Heath Blake

Chapter Seventeen—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Eighteen—Gregory Lawless

Chapter Nineteen—Bonnie Overton

Chapter Twenty—Heath Blake

Chapter Twenty-One—Bonnie Overton

Chapter One—Bonnie Overton

After a half-dozen false starts and stops, I arrived at the Courtney Fields Airport ready to tackle and defeat my innate and life-limiting fear of flying. I tapped my fingers on my pleather steering wheel cover as I waited for the parking garage arm to rise and let me in. While I waited, I skimmed through my mental checklist of why I had settled on this airport rather than the busier and newer regional facility that was closer to my apartment.

Because the safety rating here is higher.

Because they have tighter security.

Because they haven’t had a crash.

God! Why am I thinking about plane crashes right now? This is exactly what my doctor warned me about.

I dug around in my denim blue cargo bag for my anxiety medication. Should I go ahead and pop one now or stick to the plan and wait until I’ve boarded? Tamping down my nerves might be just what the doctor ordered, but with a sigh I decided against it. Dropping the pill bottle back into my bag, I leaned back against my seat. I had to fly. I had no choice! Yes, I needed to take on my demons soberly—not powered by Xanax-fueled bravado. I pep-talked myself in the rearview mirror. You can do this, Bonnie. I smiled at myself as if I really meant it.

Well, at least I didn’t look half bad today. I actually took the time to put on some makeup to play up my dark blue eyes and somewhat tidy my chocolate brown hair this morning. I wore my tortoiseshell hair clip, an heirloom gift from my mom. It had belonged to my grandma before her, but it was mine now. How I miss you, Mom and Grandma Minnie! What would they say about my fear of flying?

Get it in gear, Bonnie! You come from a long line of women who aren’t afraid of anything! That’s what Minnie would have said, and I would have listened to her. She’d been a larger-than-life lady. When she died ten years ago, she left a big hole in our lives.

Yes, Minnie would tell me to sit up straight and get on with it. But it wasn’t her talking to me now, only my own imagination. I didn’t believe that the ghosts of my lost loved ones could see me, hear me or know that I was about to embark on a significant journey. Minnie, who had been a woman of faith, wouldn’t have approved of my lack of belief in the afterlife. I still wore the crucifix pendant I inherited from her...I wanted to believe. Maybe it would help.

I frowned at my reflection. Oh, yeah. I’d gotten a bit heavy-handed with the eye makeup today. I rubbed at my eyeliner, trying to remove some of it. Definitely went a little too dark on the eyeshadow, but I couldn’t do anything about that now beyond a few pats with some tissue.

Smiling one more time in the mirror, I continued to wait on the automated entry bar. Maybe this is a sign! I should go home! What was the deal with this parking garage? I nudged the car up a few inches, and the arm finally swung upward. Just in time too, because a Mercedes pulled in behind me. Boy, he was rocking those tunes. Who was that? Motley whoever? Easing my car up, I grabbed a ticket from the machine and found a parking spot, quickly getting out of the way of Mr. I-Like-It-Loud behind me.

Geesh, for a small airport, this place has a ton of passengers. Keep moving, Bonnie. Don’t think about it too long, keep moving!

I knew myself well enough to know that if I lingered too long outside the terminal, I’d change my mind about this trip, and that wasn’t an option. I was going home, even if it killed me. This flight was the last flight out for the weekend. I had to make this one or I’d miss my chance to be with my sister and welcome my niece into the world. Amy had decided she’d name the baby Minnie, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Mom would approve too, I was sure.

Yes, I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn’t expect to get the call this morning. Then again, babies don’t follow schedules or use time clocks. Amy’s first child was knocking on the door of the world; my little sister was having contractions. I knew I should have made this trip earlier in the week. This would be a short flight, only a couple hours of airtime, but a sense of urgency—or something—grew within me.

I pulled my luggage out of the trunk and snatched at the handle, but the darn thing wouldn’t budge. My brand-new suitcase refused to cooperate; the handle jammed, and no amount of tugging or swearing would force it to slide out.

Great. My luggage doesn’t want to make this flight either.

With an exasperated sigh, I carried the heavy load by the handle and walked into the airport sweating and puffing. I’d never been one to go to the gym or think about fitness. I decided after this, if I lived, I might have to at least take up yoga. My upper body woefully lacked strength. A blast of air conditioning greeted me, and I breathed in the chilly air. Goodness, this suitcase was heavy; I had definitely overpacked, but I’d made it.

I didn’t approve of Amy’s choice of home birth, but I had no say in the matter. What if something went wrong? Who on earth had a home birth nowadays? After watching a few of those having a baby shows, I’d never endure childbirth without painkillers. But that was typical of my sister. Always unconventional. Always brave. Even when she didn’t have to be. Unlike me.

I stood a little ways from the counter and surveyed my surroundings. Yes, this airport was just like I remembered it from many practice runs. I should know this place by heart now. I’d been here three times in just the last month, and it was at this point when I’d always gotten weak in the knees before. My plans to go home for fall vacation to help my sister prepare the nursery hadn’t worked out. And she’d been so excited to share her news with me. I’d intended to come then, but in the end, I’d left the airport without ever making it to the counter. I had called Amy, making up a lame excuse about being sick and arriving too late to board the plane, none of which she believed. Escaping to the safety of my sparse apartment, I sat in the dark and drank away my guilt. Mind you, I wasn’t an alcoholic, but the past few months I’d found a few glasses of wine helped me cope with the prospect of traveling. Or thinking about traveling.

But I did not drink a drop today. My mouth felt dry just thinking about it. Focus, Bonnie. I didn’t need wine anymore. I’d found an amazing therapist, Dr. Jill Kennedy. We’d really made a connection, and I found myself trusting her after just one session.

What a stroke of luck to have found her. Our therapy sessions had brought sanity—and hope—back to my life. I would be eternally grateful to her for that. As I pondered my next move, I recalled one of our first conversations.

"Those dreams, the dreams of plane crashes, are merely symbols, Bonnie. I know it feels real, and I believe you can smell the burning rubber and feel the heat from the fire, but let’s set that fear aside for a moment and look at this rationally. Symbology is a powerful thing. It’s a unique language that our subconscious understands. We have to interpret these symbols correctly to understand what your mind is telling you. Let’s start by talking about your relationships."

After months of sessions, my fear of flying became a tamable beast. Then again, it was easy to avoid hopping a jet. I didn’t need to fly to go to the bookstore, or the market or work. Thank goodness I did not have a debilitating fear of elevators; that would have totally screwed up my life. I lived on the third floor of a five-floor apartment building and worked on the fifth floor of the Kimberly-Blake building. No flying required. A daily bus trip and a brisk walk from the bus station to work and back to the apartment.

But this fear