Emilie in the 80s (Patreon)

Emelie O’Dow

Chapter One

“Ladies and gentleman,” the pilot drawled over the airplane intercom. “We are beginning our final descent to Detroit International Airport. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelt. We thank you for flying Continental Airlines.”

Pete, who’d been skimming over the latest headlines on his iPad, pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick text: about to land. See you soon. He paused, thumb hovering over the emojis, jaw clenched. He made a decision, tapping the heart emoji and pushed Send.

“Good call,” the flight attendant said as she passed, chewing to make sure all the seats had been placed in the upright position.

“Yeah?” Pete said, running a hand through thinning, graying hair, feeling his fingers brush against the smooth skin of his skull.

“Yeah,” she said.

The phone buzzed back. Three hearts. He and his wife, Rachel, had been through some bad patches together, but things had been pretty good the past couple years, mostly because they’d been forced to ally themselves against the merciless hormonal onslaught of their teen-age daughters, Brittany and Emilie.

The plane banked, the whole cabin dipping to the right. As he held himself against the pull of gravity to keep himself from smothering the petite woman next to him, his mind ran through a quick slide show of Emilie’s transgression, from getting caught trying to use a Fake ID, to the night she snuck out of her bedroom window to go to a concert with that long haired hippie kid, to the times—- so many times— they’d caught her making out with boys.

Now, Brittany, turning 13, was following in her big sister’s footsteps, just as boy crazy and reckless as the other. Why couldn’t they control themselves? He wondered. Girls. They weren’t like they’d been back in his day.

Pete pretty much blamed his teen agers for his balding head, the seeping crows feet around his eyes. He missed the days when they were little, and when he came home from a business trip they would run up to him and throw themselves into his arms. Now, he was lucky if they even looked up from their phones.

THUMP!

The plan seemed to lurch, then there was a loud BANG. Someone screamed, and glancing out the window, Pete saw smoke and flames billowing from the engine. The flames began to crawl up the wing, there was another loud bang and the plane nose dived, a high pitched wail filling the cabin. The air masks dropped, and Pete robotically grabbed his, pulling it on. He felt strangely calm, even as the cabin lights went out. He realized he was clutching his phone in his hand, his knuckles turning white… he wondered if he should text his wife…

“My God!” The pilot called out over the intercom. “My God.”

Pete realized he was about to die. He began to pray…. And the world went dark.

Chapter Two

Pete floated in a soft, fuzzy darkness. He felt light. Free. Am I dead? He wondered. Is this the afterlife? If so, it seemed like it might get boring pretty fast. “God?” He called out. “God, if you’re there— please. I’m not ready! Send me back.” His voice seemed to echo, like he was yelling into a cave. There was no answer.

He felt like the world around him swirled, shifteed… images of the plane’s cabin… flickering, merging with soft pink walls…. A patchwork quilt of baby blues and sunflowers.. a jewelry box… rays of golden light flowing through thin white curtains…. A voice whispered “Daba…” Or, was that the wind…?

“Can you hear me?” Pete called out. “Send me home!” He tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper. “Send me home!”

“Emilie?” A familiar voice called. “Emilie?”

Pete opened his eyes, confused. He was looking up at some sort of gauzy, white material. He couldn’t seem to move. His mouth felt dry, but he tried to speak and heard a buzzy voice say the words he was thinking, “What happened? Where am I?”

“Did you have some kind of nightmare?” The voice asked, and Pete recognized it just as a familiar face appeared looking down at him, baby blue eyes full of concern.

“Dad?” Pete said, feeling like he’d bene punched in the stomach. His father had died a few years ago after a long bout with cancer, but this looked and sounded like his father as a much younger man. Seeing him so young and full of life brought a rush of emotions to Pete— joy, sorrow…. But, if his father was here and young, then? “Am I in heaven?”

Dad chuckled. “You just had a funny dream, Kitty. Time to get up. Up! Up!”

Pete laughed. “I always loved the way you said that every morning. Up! Up! Up!”

“Okay,” Dad said. “Goofy.”

Dad left, the smell of his Old Spice after shave trailing behind him. Pete missed his dad the moment he walked out the door. There had been so many things left unsaid when his father had died, so many hurts left lingering. Seeing him again had brought all that up again, the regret.

I must be dreaming, he decided. Am I in a coma? In the hospital? Did I survive the plane crash? He found it a little hard to breath, like there was a weight of some sort on his chest. Maybe he was on a respirator? He smelled bacon and… waffles! His mom always made a big breakfast every Sunday! He felt hungry, and he wanted to see his mom and dad, relive this childhood memory.

He concentrated on moving. First, he managed to wiggle his fingers. Then, his toes. He felt excited, and pushing his hands against the mattress, he pushed himself up into a sitting position…. And felt his chest sway, dragging heavily against his shoulders and collarbone…. He looked down to see he wore some kind of soft pink garment, but the top swelled outward like…. He reached up and cupped large, heavy pair of breasts?

The shock of feeling his hands cup the soft swelling of his chest sent him rolling out of bed, landing unsteadily on his bare feet. He wore a short dress— no, a nightie, he realized, that came down to his knees and hugged his… no… it wasn’t possible…. He reached up and put his hands on his cheeks— smooth and soft, and he felt his arms pressing his…. breasts…. together… the flesh so soft and yielding…

There was a full length mirror hanging on the door to the room he’d found himself in, and his eyes glanced nervously over stuffed animals, a makeup table… a poster of Madonna with the words “Like a Virgin scrawled underneath, more posters…The Karate Kid, The Outsiders, My Cousin Vinnie, plus a couple that were just close ups of Ralph Macchio that looked like they might have been pulled out of a magazine. Someone’s obsessed, he thought, chuckling as he thought about how his own daughters had formed crushes on different actors and singers over the years. Glancing to the other side of the room, he saw an old fashioned rotary phone, pink— just like the one he’d seen in his visions…. More posters: Duran Duran and Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddie Kruger flashing his bladed gloves….

Feeling like a newborn fawn just learning to walk, Pete made his way unsteadily to the mirror, trying to ignore the bouncing of his chest. His legs felt too long. He stepped in front of the mirror, and a girl stared back at him, her mouth hanging open, eyes wide…. She had long, thick red hair, and though it made him feel creepy he couldn’t help but notice that she had huge boobs straining against the top of her nightie… they look like watermelons… he thought, resisting the urge to cup them again, scared of the tingling feeling that had sent through him. I look like that girl Hermione from the Harry Potter movies'. Freckles, red blonde hair, brown eyes the lot. His waist was surprisingly small, hips wide.

“Is that me?” He asked, realizing that the buzzy voice he’d heard when he’d spoken was the voice of a teen-age girl.

Staring at the girl in the mirror, he raised a hand, and she raised a small, little hand. He waved. She waved. He felt confused, weird, scared… and all those emotions filled her big eyes… She had short, red hair…. Bright, creamy skin…. Pete touched his face and watched as she did the same…. “I’m her,” he whispered. The world seemed to wobble, Pete felt faint, and he stumbled back to what he now realized was a canopy bed, sitting down, staring at his slender wrists, soft little hands.

He could still see himself in the mirror, and seeing the girl there sitting on the bed, her legs spread wide, disturbed him, so he pulled his knees together, relieved to see the girl in the mirror adopt a more proper position. He looked down at those huge breasts that swelled impossibly from his chest. They felt so heavy.

“I’m dreaming that I’m a girl,” he mumbled. “Why the hell am I dreaming that I’m a girl?” It disturbed him. What was going on that he would have such a feminine dream?

“Emilie!” He heard his mom shout. “Get down here this instant!”