05/03/2026
Issue #3: The Spirit of Suspicions
Well, here we are yet again. Another week, another story from my twisted life. Sorry for the hiatus there. I ended up having to move motel rooms. But you know, it's been pretty therapeutic writing all these stories down out here. You don’t really realize how much something weighs on you until it's off your chest. You know, I’ve never seen a therapist before. Honestly, I probably should’ve. But it just wasn’t the kinda thing you did at the Federal Occult Task Force. Everyone just bit their tongues, shut up, and did their work. Was it the healthiest? No. But we got it done.
This actually isn't the story I was planning on telling you today. I was originally going to tell you the story of The Spirit of The Garden, one of my more exciting stories. But, the more I thought about it, the more I felt like I should explain the circumstances leading up to that event. It was a crazy trip, from start to finish. And was almost like a marathon of spirits, so to say.
But that’s not to say today’s story isn’t interesting. Far from it. The story I have for you tonight is probably one of my more crazy ones. Less of an investigation, and more like…. A fight for survival.
Case File: 11-140201XXA
Date of Case: February 1st, 2014
Location: Enroute from Montana to Washington D.C.
Active Agents: Agent Isa
Case Subject: The Spirit of Suspicions
Our story tonight starts on a lonely February day. I was up in Montana on business, you see. I’m sure you can guess what kind of business. It was a standard case, so it really didn’t take all that long. I was just waiting around for my next assignment when I got a call. A call that didn’t come from the top, but rather someone in our own little group.
An agent by the codename Gebo had hit me up on the old telekinetic telephone. His specialty in the group was anomalous objects and artifacts. He was down in D.C, at the Smithsonian, and apparently something had gone horribly wrong. Wrong enough for him to call for back up, which wasn’t exactly a common practice in our line of work. We all had our specialties, so usually calling in someone else meant you ran into something that was outside your typical wheelhouse. And since he’d called me in, you can guess that meant a Spirit. Agent Gebo told me it was an urgent matter, so I was trying to get down there as quickly as I could.
That’s how I ended up hopping aboard the soonest flight for Washington that I could manage. I don’t normally fly, you see. I usually prefer to drive or take trains, and you’re about to find out why. Enclosing someone like me with a bunch of civilians, in a place nobody can escape, usually only leads to problems. But I didn’t have the luxury of taking my sweet time tonight. I had to get to D.C. as fast as possible. I did my best to mitigate the potential of civilian passengers by taking a midnight flight, but I could already tell it was still gonna be packed.
Within the hour I had booked a flight and was making my way through security. Not the usual security, mind you. A bit of flashing my Federal badge around had me going through their more private security procedures. Another reason I didn’t like flying.
Everything was going smoothly so far. It was only another hour or so before I was aboard the plane and taking off. It was a commercial flight, with maybe three dozen other people flying with me. I really would’ve preferred something more private, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and time was of the essence.
So that’s how I ended up on a plane, 7PM at night, with about 30 random civilians. I was, I think, justifiably on edge. Having someone like me around is like having a walking bad luck charm. The paranormal is attracted to the paranormal. They work like magnets, always pulling closer. And my psychic abilities firmly planted me in the paranormal category.
The guy I was sitting next to wasn’t helping my nerves either. He was this jumpy looking guy. Thin and wirey, with this explosion of wild hair on his head. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and judging by the untouched plate of food in front of him, maybe he hadn’t eaten either. His hands were non-stop fidgeting and his eyes wouldn’t stop scanning the plane. Just being near the guy was fraying my nerves. It felt like every other second he would look at me out of the corner of his eyes. Bloodshot and wild. I tried to ignore him and keep my attention on my book, but it was impossible. I ended up just watching him back.
After a few minutes of that, I grew tired of the little game. I finally turned to him and snapped.
“What are you looking at?” I demanded in a quiet, but striking voice… At least I like to think so.
The man just about jumped out of his skin. He gave me a look like I’d just pointed a loaded gun at him. He started shaking like a leaf and was barely able to stammer out his next words.
“B-B-B-Because I know what you’re going to do!” He snapped back, pressing himself against the window, getting as far away from me as possible. He narrowed his crazed eyes and whispered manically. “You’re here to KILL me!”
The absolute absurdity of the statement took me out of it. The building sense of dread I had was dispelled instantly. I almost let loose a cackle at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, but thought it wise not to. I could tell this guy was on the verge of some kind of… Snap. And I really didn’t want him going off while on the plane. He could be dangerous, and I wasn’t exactly trained in how to handle a situation like that. Put me in front of a spirit and I could take it out with my eyes closed. Put me in front of a bog standard psycho and I’m out of my depth.
“I am not here to kill you.” I answered as calmly as I could. “I’m just flying as a passenger, just like you are.” I put my hands flat on the tray in front of him, to show him I had nothing in my hands. “I don’t want any trouble. Alright?”
“You’re the one that started the trouble!” He hissed back, his voice getting louder. “You’re the one that followed me here!!!! I saw you!!! You’re here to kill me where I can’t get away!!!!” He was spiraling hard. I needed to get away from the guy first and foremost. Maybe he’d calm down if I left.
“Alright, alright. I’ll just move seats. Okay? I’ll go sit somewhere else. I’ll leave you alone.” I gently stood up from my seat, the man’s breathing rising and falling in erratic pitches. He was really losing it fast. Any second now his cord might snap, and I didn’t want him hurting himself or someone else.
I made the mistake of taking a single step backwards.
All hell broke loose at that very moment. The man lunged from his seat with a cry like a banshee. In one quick motion he whipped something from his pocket and held it over his head. My first instinct was a knife.
I put my arms up and blocked it as he came stabbing down with whatever was in his hand. I felt cold metal dig into my skin with a painful tear.
“GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!” He continued to shout and scream. He brought his weapon up, and back down into my arms. Again and again. I took a few steps backwards, trying to put space between me and him, but he advanced further.
I was mentally off balance for a few moments as I weathered his storm of attacks. I’d dealt with worse, but nobody likes being stabbed over and over again. When I finally regained my composure, I thrust a single palm out towards him. As soon as it connected with his chest, I pushed a shockwave of psychic energy out from my arm and through his body. The pulse of invisible energy sent him flying backwards and crashing against the airplane wall.
I moved without even really thinking about it. My instincts took over, this time it was my turn to lunge. I took a single, large step forward and pressed the weight of my body against his, using my good arm to brace him against the wall.
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! HELP! HELP!” He squealed like a trapped animal. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! HE’S GOING TO-!” I raised my palm to his head and sent a concentrated, specific form of psychic energy right into his brain. I targeted his brain waves and sent him head first into a deep sleep.
As I lay the now unconscious man back into his seat, I took stock of my surroundings.
First my arm, bleeding, dotted with curved holes. But nothing too severe, depending on what I was stabbed with.
It took a little searching, but eventually I located the weapon. A fountain pen. A goddamn fountain pen. I’ve been hit with a lot of weapons, but never a pen before. I pocketed it, and then turned my attention to the plane around me.
As expected. We’d drawn a little bit of attention during our scuffle. Everyone in the cabin had turned their eyes on us, now only me. I raised my arms, one of which was still oozing blood.
“Nothing to see here folks. Everything is under control.” I declared loudly. I expected some kind of response, but only received perturbed glares from the audience. In my experience, people were usually more than happy to jump in and act like a bunch of heroes. Though, I wasn’t complaining. Things always got messy when civilians interrupted.
I pulled my attention away from the staring crowd, and scanned the cabin till my eyes landed on one of the attendants. I waved her over, calling out for her.
She stood there for a moment, eyeing me. Before she slowly walked over. All the while giving me a strange look. As soon as she reached me, I explained the situation to her. And asked that she relay that information to the captain and ask for a detour to the nearest airport.
But she didn’t reply to me. Not even once. Not even a nod, a shake of the head, nothing. She just…. Stood there and stared. Her eyes glared but her mouth never even twitched. Eventually she did leave and moved towards the cockpit. But she kept turning her head, as if to try and keep me in her periphery. I felt a shiver go down my spine as I spied a familiar look on her face.
It was the same look the manic man had given me before attacking.
It was around that point that I began to suspect that something might be off. Go figure, right? You’d think I’d have learned by then. But what I thought was just a case of a mentally ill man, was starting to spiral in my own head. What if it wasn’t just him? What if they were all in on something? What if they were all working together?
I wanted to act, needed to act. But I couldn’t. They were all still watching me. I had to play it cool, try to blend back in. I took my seat next to my now unconscious flight partner and tried to keep my senses sharp and open. I thought about sending a message out to Dag, but decided against it. A telepathic call required extreme concentration, and if I was concentrating on that, then someone might get the drop on me. It wasn’t like Dag could do anything at that moment anyways.
So instead. I just waited. It shouldn’t be too long before we divert to a nearby airport, right?
But we didn’t.
The plane just kept going.
How long? I didn’t know. I wasn’t keeping track. If I started trying to track time, that was precious attention diverted from my defenses. I didn’t know if it had been five minutes since my talk with the stewardess or two hours. But as we just kept flying, and flying… I began to suspect the latter.
Why wouldn’t we divert? I had just had a physical altercation with a man. Regardless of if they thought I was the victim or the perpetrator was besides the point. They should’ve diverted.
But they didn’t.
Was the stewardess in on this little plan? Had she not told the pilot? Or maybe she’d lied? Or maybe the pilot was in on it too, and they were both up there cackling about how dumb I was.
I had to assume they were. I had to assume that nobody on this plane was my ally. But what could be causing them all to act in such a way?
The answer was simple. It was the same answer every time something strange happened around me.
A spirit.
But I needed confirmation. I needed to be sure. And for that I was going to need my Paragraph, the device I used to track spirits in my vicinity. It was still stored in my usual detective’s case, it was my carry-on of course. But that was now stored securely in the overhead compartment. That meant if I wanted my equipment, I was going to have to stand back up. Where everyone could see me.
I shook my head, then slapped my face a few times. I needed to get a hold of myself. I had nothing to be afraid of. But even still, it took me a few minutes to finally rise to my feet and step into the aisle.
Before I had even risen I could feel their eyes upon me. It felt like everyone on this plane was locked onto me. Deep inside I wanted to drop back into my seat. I wanted to hide away and guard myself, make sure nobody made any wrong moves. But that wouldn’t solve anything. Not if the staff really were being affected by this too.
I reached overhead and started to open the latch. And that’s when I heard a voice finally break the piercing silence. A voice right behind me, gruff and tired.
“What are you doing?” The question was flat enough to sound like a statement, an accusation. I couldn’t help but spin around, my eyes landing on a thirty something business man. The top button of his dress shirt was undone, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He regarded me with the same cold, suspicious eyes that the stewardess and manic man had.
“I’m just getting something from my luggage.” I answered while trying to keep my tone neutral and unaccusatory. “There’s nothing to see here.”
“He’s going for a weapon..!” Someone whispered nearby, and soon it was spreading through the cabin like a wave. Everyone turned to each other and whispered. Their quiet voices meshing together into a homogenous hissing sound.
“I’m not going for a weapon. You’re alright.” I steadied myself and called out to the plane. “I’m an FBI agent. Everything here is under control.” I was about to reach into my jacket for my badge, but thought better of it. They were probably anxious enough to think I was reaching for a weapon.
“I’m just going to get my case down now.” I was speaking like there was a wild animal in front of me, rabid and drooling. I slowly inched my hand up till I felt the cold metal handle of my briefcase. But as soon as I wrapped my fingers around it, the business man from before shot up from his seat.
“HE’S TRYING TO KILL US!” He screamed, his voice echoing in the cabin. He charged towards me. And the next thing I knew, over a dozen other people were all racing at me as well. Each of them shouting over the other about how I was trying to kill them, about how I was going for a weapon, about how I had to be stopped.
I immediately sent out a psychic pulse that sent the business man sprawling into the aisle. But as soon as he was down, another took his place. Then another, and another. Too many people for me to keep track of all at once. I could’ve fought them off with physical force, probably. I was a trained agent after all… But they were just people. Just civilians. And no matter how much my brain kept screaming at me to kill them and defend myself, I refused to do it.
It was a fool’s errand to fight back at that point. I struggled, but was holding myself back from inflicting any real damage. They weren’t. They were fearsome and even worse, terrified of me.
It wasn’t long before I found myself shoved face first against the floor, at least three different passengers holding me down.
“Get something to tie him up with!”
“Someone open up his briefcase!”
The people above me continued to whisper to each other in frantic, hurried voices. I soon felt something tight winding around my wrists and ankles. Torn fabric, it felt like. I stayed calm even as I was tied up and dragged to the back of the plane. The rest of the airplane was beginning to stir itself alive now. All of the passengers were getting up and moving around. I saw them tying up the manic man as well, as if he were my accomplice or something.
“Someone keep an eye on him.” One man barked out an order. One of the guys that tied me up volunteered and stayed by my side. His eyes glued to me as the others started to tear through my briefcase. My tools were being tossed around and searched through. My heart began to race. Not because of the Paragraph or my Spirit Camera. Sure, it’d be a pain if they were busted. But not irreplaceable. But what was not only irreplaceable, but also dangerous… Was my photo album.
The album was basically a prison of sorts for Spirits. Anytime I defeated a spirit and sealed them in the photograph, that was where their picture went until it could be transferred to a secure place in Washington. But since I had just come from several missions… I hadn’t had the chance to unload my photographs yet. Meaning that album was a veritable bomb of malicious spirits, ready to attack.
I knew I needed to get moving. This spirit was going to be the death of me and all the other people on this plane if their suspicions were allowed to keep running so rampant! But I couldn’t do anything while everyone was running wild like this. Even if I did get myself untied, I’d be swarmed. My biggest enemy wasn’t the spirit, it was the people I was trying to protect!
I took a deep breath and focused my mind. Everything was starting to overwhelm me. The passengers and the situation as a whole, not to mention the spirit was still having an effect on me, even if I was fighting it.
My eyes darted around the cabin and one by one I locked in on the most pressing problems, one by one. In order of importance.
ONE. The twitchy kid they left as my guard. It wasn’t really a smart move on their part, but I couldn’t blame them for acting rashly. I’d need to distract this kid and get him away from me. So I could figure out a way to deal with-
TWO. My binds. They weren’t exactly handcuffs. Just strips of torn fabric tied tightly around my wrists and ankles. They’d be easy enough to get off if I could tear through them. And once I did, I could move on to dealing with-
THREE. The other passengers. With them acting as they were, even if I did get free, I’d just be swarmed. I’d be beaten down and tied back up before I even had a chance to think about getting back my-
FOUR. Equipment. My Paragraph, Spirit Camera, and most importantly, my photo album. I could still see them. The briefcase was lying open and forgotten on my chair, my equipment still inside. I’d need to get it back before I could even think of fighting-
FIVE. The spirit itself. Judging by the way everyone was acting, I decided then and there what the Spirit would be. The Spirit of Suspicions. A spirit with the ability to make nobody trust anybody.
Those were my five problems. I sat and thought, my brain working things over, analyzing and planning things out step by step. This was going to be tricky. But as I looked over the five steps, a plan began to emerge. A way out of this situation. Was it going to be easy? Hell no. But then again, when was anything easy for me?
With that cheery note, it had been settled. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all I had. And it was time to put it into motion.
ONE - The twitchy kid.
I turned my attention to my slapdash guard. The entire time I’d been sitting there, his eyes hadn’t left me. It was that same overbearing sense of paranoia that I had first witnessed in the manic man. The innate, instinctual sense that I was the most dangerous thing in the room. And if he took his eyes off of me, I’d kill him. So I needed to change that. I could try to get him to distrust the other passengers… But if it was coming from me, he might not listen. No, I had to make him think the ideas were coming from the only person he could trust.
Himself.
My hands were tied, so I couldn’t do my usual mental focus, putting two fingers to my temple. But that’s all it was, a focus. I was capable of using my mental powers without it, just at a higher difficulty.
I turned my attention to the guy “guarding” me. He couldn’t be older than 19. Still a kid by my standards. He was staring right at me, his eyes narrowed and squinting. His paranoid stare made focusing a little harder, but I buckled down and pushed all my focus into my psychic power. I tuned out the passengers around me, and began to probe into the boy’s brain.
Getting in was harder than I thought. Something was interfering with my mind reading. It was like the boy himself was a psychic, and was shielding himself from my abilities. But I could tell this boy wasn’t doing it on purpose. This had to be the effect of the spirit. The spirit was inside his mind too, trying to keep me out.
I pushed harder and finally managed to spike my own mind into his. I felt it break, like a needle through a balloon. And suddenly I was assaulted by a torrent of thoughts, almost too fast to comprehend. All of them suspicious and paranoid, all of them scared he’d end up dead.
I felt bad for the boy, but I was going to have to use those feelings to my advantage if I wanted to get out of here. I narrowed my eyes and implanted a single thought into the boy’s head. Simple, but loud and effective.
Why are you trusting the guys that told you to guard him? Why are you trusting any of them to not stab you in the back?
The effect was instant. I saw the boy’s face go pale as the “realization” hit him. His eyes tore away from me and focused on the other passengers of the plane. The suspicion that was previously aimed at me, now fanning out to encompass everyone around him.
Hide in the bathroom. I started to implant another thought. Hide in there and lock the door. Then nobody can get you.
The boy turned his head towards the bathroom. Then he looked back towards the crowd, then down at me. The decision seemed to come easy to him, as he soon broke into a frightful run, and sprinted into the bathroom. The door slammed closed and I heard the lock click shut soon after.
That was problem ONE dealt with. Next up,
TWO - MY BINDS
This was the easiest of them all to solve. I reached out with my mind, and began to levitate out the object of my salvation. The paranoid crowd from earlier hadn’t actually searched me when they tied me up. You’d think they would have thought to check me for weapons, with how suspicious they were. But lucky for me, they’d been too riled up to think straight.
There, levitating out of my pocket, was the weapon I’d received earlier. The fountain pen from the manic man. It wasn’t a knife, but I hoped it would do the trick. I maneuvered it around and plunged it through the fabric binding my hands. There was a soft tear as the sharp, metal point of the pen stabbed through. Using a combination of the pen, my teeth, and sheer willpower, I tore apart the binds on my hands. Then undid my feet.
I was now free. But that still left me with the trickiest part.
THREE - THE OTHER PASSENGERS
There were too many of them for me to take in a fight. And too many of them for me to affect with my psychic abilities. I also didn’t want to hurt them. They were innocent in all this. It was the spirit to blame. The best way to handle them was to take out the spirit causing the problem. I didn’t have long before they noticed I was unbound, so I had to pick an action and go for it.
Then I spotted it. Probably the best chance I had of getting through the crowd.
The lights.
It took little psychic exertion to cause the lights to burst. A loud popping sound, followed by the lights cracking and the plane being plunged into darkness.
Yeah, it might not have been my brightest moment. Pun unintended. As the cabin exploded into even more chaos. There was screaming, shouting, scrambling. My head was aching from all the sound and activity.
Which meant I needed to move fast.
FOUR - My Equipment
I wasted no time and sprinted forward. I exerted my psychic energy out like a field, using it to sense objects and people around me before I could crash into them. The plane was turning into a warzone, but thankfully, my case wasn’t far away.
I snatched up my briefcase, slammed it closed and retreated to the back of the plane. Things were only getting worse with every minute, and I needed to put a stop to this before people started killing each other.
FIVE - The Spirit
I ripped open my briefcase and snatched out the Paragraph. In one motion I turned it on and began to swipe it around the cabin. It took one full rotation before I locked onto something. A hit, directly beneath one of the seats… The seat that the manic man had been sitting in. I should’ve known. No wonder I hadn’t seen it. It was hiding, and right beneath my nose to boot.
I grabbed a flashlight from my case and shone it beneath the seats. And there it was. A pale, squat looking goblin-esque creature. It had big black eyes, and pointed ears. The second my light hit it, the spirit let out a terrified squeal and tried to flee.
“Oh no you don’t!” I cried out, I reached out with my psychic force and yanked the thing backwards. The creature struggled against my telekinetic pull, but it was built for hiding, not fighting.
I yanked it free from beneath the seats and hurled the spirit against the wall. It impacted it with a low squeak, like a dog’s chew toy. As the spirit slumped to the floor, I aimed my camera, and snapped the shot.
******
Once the spirit was captured, it wasn’t long before things calmed back down. There was a lot of confusion. A lot of apologies. And a lot of unanswered questions. Questions that would never be answered for these people. Questions they didn’t want answered. Not truly.
We made a detour, an emergency landing in a small town I’ll call Spry City. It meant another delay for getting to D.C, but it couldn’t be helped at that point. I made a few calls and soon the FBI were swarming the place. Thankfully, that meant I could take a private plane to D.C. to deal with the problems going on there. And it also meant the poor innocent passengers could get off without jail time.
It's cases like these that make me wonder. Such an incredible game of odds, that I would end up on the same plane as a spirit. So I have to question, was that spirit always going to be on that plane? Or did my presence on the plane entice that spirit to attack? Was it good fortune for the passengers that I happened to be there to save them? Or was it bad luck that I brought it with me in the first place?
Those are the kind of questions that keep me up at night. And it is incidents like those that keep me from getting too close to people.
I guess it's pretty ironic.
For everyone else, the only person they can trust is themselves.
But for me, it feels like I’m the only person I can’t trust.
