Blackbox Log — February 23, 1956 Aircraft N29387

I recently got ahold of a blackbox log from a friend of mine. I reviewed it yeterday, and found it to be quite disturbing. I'm replacing the actual names from the log with "Pilot" and "Control"

''Pilot: Today is Feburary 23, 1956. Weather looks cloudy, with a bit of storms. This is N29387, Control, do you read me?''

Control: Loud and clear pilot, so uh, how's the wife and kids?

''Pilot: They're good, how's margret? ''

Control: -unaudiable- fine.

Pilot: Hold on for one second control, there's a strange aircraft following me.

Control: What was that?

Pilot: I said -unadiable- aircraft, that's been tailing me for some time, I'm going to try to make contact via radio.

Control: Alright, standing by.

Pilot: -Indestict sounds heard in background-

Pilot: -dull whooshing sound heard-

Pilot: Control, do you read?

Control: Yeah

''Pilot: There's been a minor delay in travel, and we're going to make an unexpected stop in Davenport. ''

''Control: What? No, you're supposed to head straight to kingston.''

''Pilot: -unaudiable- Sorry. There's been some delay. We have to make a stop in Davenport.''

Control: But that town's been deserted due to radiation, just stop at Paxton, it's closer anyways.

Pilot: No, I need to go to Davenport.

Control: Seriously -unaudiable- to Davenport, just go to Paxton.

Pilot: Standby, control.

The radio cut off at this point. I decided to do some research on the plane by searching it's serial number, N29387. Apparently the plane was found just east of Davenport, but the pilot couldn't be found. After 4 weeks of looking, the search was called off, and the pilot declared dead.

The main reason I was so intreseted in this was because I used to live in Davenport, before a powerplant nearby had an explosion, and the town had to be evacuated due to radiation.

I remember though, as a child, growing up there, I hated the town, it always freaked me out a bit. I guess what scared me most was the old abandoned house just outside of town. I'd hear stories of a witch living there, who'd eat any kid that entered the building. In retrospect, I don't know why I believed that tale. Of course, when I was about 16 or 17, someone really did go missing in that house. His name was Jim Houston, he ran a small shop. One day, him and his son were playing baseball, and the ball went into the house. Naturall, the kid was scared to go in, so he asked his dad to do it. So Jim went in the house to get the ball. His son must have been waiting at least 10 minutes before he started to realise something wasn't right here, that's when he went to get the closest person for help. And who was that peron? Me. So Jim's son walks up to me, and I could tell he was kind of panicky, so I asked him what's bothering him. And he told me his dad went in to the house and he still isn't out yet. So I decided to help out the kid. I went up the the house and I tried yelling for Jim. No answer. Finally, I mustered the courage to enter in, and look for him myself. All I could find was his baseball cap laying on the bed, covered in dust, as if it had been there for decades. I haven't talked about that day until now, with you.

So I decided to take a trip to Davenport, to look for the pilot, I knew the town better than anyone else anyways. I first checked the wreckage of the plane, then the building of what used to be Jim's shop, I even checked Toms Diner, then I checked what used to be my house, it's strange how much desertion can change a town. The last place I checked, was, the old house, just outside of town. And then I saw it. An Aviator hat, laying on the bed, covered in a thick coat of dust.