(Soft static hum. A pilot’s voice cuts through, weary yet resolute.)

25 years… Has it really been that long?

I stopped keeping track after the first few. The days don’t pass here like they used to—hell, I don’t even know if they pass at all. It’s just an endless horizon, stretching out in every direction, sky bleeding into sea like they’ve conspired to swallow me whole. The instruments failed the moment I crossed into this place. One second, I was flying through clear skies over the Bermuda Triangle—routine, nothing out of the ordinary. Then a flash, brighter than the sun. A pull, like the universe itself had gripped my plane by its wings. And then… silence.

I called for help. Again and again. My radio crackled with ghostly echoes of voices that weren’t mine, messages in languages I didn’t understand. Then even those faded. Just me, the plane, and this endless, unbroken sky.

At first, I tried to fly out. Pick a direction, full throttle. North, south, east, west—didn’t matter. The compass spun wild, the fuel never seemed to run out, and the world never changed. I should’ve run dry years ago, but the engines keep humming, the dials frozen in place like time itself is standing still. I’m trapped in a photograph, a moment stretched too thin.

I’ve seen things out here. Shapes moving beneath the waves, impossible lights dancing in the sky. Sometimes, I hear voices whispering through the static, familiar yet distant—like echoes of a life I barely remember. My mother’s lullaby. The laughter of my co-pilot, Jack, before we lost contact. The sound of my own name, spoken in ways I can’t explain.

Am I dead? Or just… forgotten?

Maybe I was never meant to be found. Maybe this place—whatever it is—needed me more than the world I left behind. I don’t fight it anymore. The sky is my home now, the clouds my only companions. And in this place where time stands still, I am both lost and eternal.

So if anyone out there is listening… if my voice is somehow slipping through the cracks between worlds—

Remember me.