Kayla, grieving the loss of her grandmother, is about to return home after the funeral. But when she boards her flight, she has no idea about the nightmare that awaits her. In a case of mistaken identity, Kayla has no choice but to rely on her wits and quick thinking to get her out of the hot water she has landed in.
After a few long days of grieving, I was ready to collapse into my own bed. I was six months pregnant and emotionally drained from my grandmother’s funeral.
People at a funeral | Source: Pexels
The funeral had been tough, but it was a poignant farewell to a woman who had been my rock throughout my life.
“Are you sure you want to leave today?” my mother asked as I packed my suitcase. “You can wait a few days if you need to just sit with this loss.”
I smiled at her sadly.
A person packing a suitcase | Source: Pexels
“I know,” I said. “But I need to get back to work and back to Colin. You know my husband barely manages without me.”
“I suppose it’s a good idea for you to be in your comfort zone,” she said. “But Dad and I have decided that we’ll stay until the end of the week just to sort Gran’s house out and finalize anything that needs to be done. I know that Dad cannot wait to get home.”
“I just wish that Gran would have been around to see the baby,” I said, rubbing my hand along my belly. “That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
A woman holding her stomach | Source: Unsplash
“I know, honey,” my mother said. “I wish that you and Gran could have had that moment, but it’s okay, darling. At least you were here in the end when Gran needed you the most.”
Now, I was navigating the long lines at the airport. I had hated flying, but it was much easier to fly home than drive. I couldn’t manage spending twelve hours in a car with my bladder fighting me.
People at an airport | Source: Unsplash
But finally, I made it onto the plane, ready for the journey back home to my husband.
“I’ll take that, ma’am,” a flight attendant told me, reaching out for my bag.
“Thank you,” I said, settling into my seat, my body aching for rest.
A pregnant woman sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, I hate flying,” the woman next to me said. “It’s the worst. But I hate driving too. I should have just stayed home.”
I almost laughed because I agreed completely. I hated the turbulence that came with flying. It made me feel uneasy and anxious, as though I was absolutely losing control with each jolt.
But still, as I sat back, ready for the flight to take off and take me home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at me.
A man sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
Turning around, I noticed a man sitting a few rows behind, intently watching me. His gaze was unsettling, but I dismissed him as one of those people who judged a pregnant woman for traveling.
Soon after, the hum of the engines became a soothing background noise as the plane began its ascent.
“Finally,” the woman beside me said. “Let’s just get home.”
Little did I know that a nightmare was about to unfold.
Ten minutes after we were airborne, a flight attendant approached me, her gaze hard.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Could you please come with me?” she asked, her perfume taking over my nose.
I had no intention of waking up and walking anywhere, but her authoritative tone left no room for argument, and with a deep sigh, I unbuckled my seat and followed her to the clearing just off the bathroom.
Immediately, her demeanor changed.
“You need to get on your knees immediately!” she commanded, nodding to someone that I couldn’t see.
“What? Why? What happened?” I exclaimed, completely shocked.
“Now,” she said simply.
I was shocked and confused, but something in her voice made me comply. As I knelt, I couldn’t understand what was going on. Nothing felt right. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Just then, the man who had been staring at me earlier entered.
“Where is the golden necklace you stole?” he demanded, his voice threatening.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I didn’t steal anything! I am just returning from my grandmother’s funeral!”
He made a clucking sound with his tongue and produced a set of photographs and documents.
“This is you at the museum two days before the exhibit was moved to the hotel. This is you at the hotel foyer where the necklace went missing. We tracked you up to this plane after you ran away from the hotel.”
I looked at the pictures, and they were hazy. But they did bear a striking resemblance to me, though there were clear differences.
“Look,” I said suddenly. “The woman in these photos has a tattoo or scar or something on her wrist. Look! I don’t have anything like that!”
The man examined my wrists, his icy hands pulling roughly.
“See? No tattoos. No scars. Nothing. You have the wrong person!” I insisted. “And I’m pregnant! The woman in the photos is not!”
I felt a sudden wave of fear for my baby. In the heat of the moment, my baby lay there silently.
“But that could be a disguise,” he replied, not entirely convinced.
I thought about whether the police would be waiting for me at the airport. And whether I could get away from this. I just wanted to get home to Colin.
It was as if thinking about my husband had summoned the baby to wake up.
A sudden kick in my stomach made me act impulsively. Without thinking, I took the man’s hand and placed it on my belly.
“No, you can’t fake this,” I said.
He sighed, looking visibly relieved but also very embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry. You look very much like her. I was convinced that we were on the right track. I have to wait until we get back on the ground to actually deal with this.”
“Look, I get it,” I said. “But I’m not her. I’m just trying to get home,” I said, feeling a bit calmer, while I tried to get back onto my feet.
Little did we know that it was time for part two of the nightmare.
Suddenly, the flight attendant pulled out a gun.
“Enough! Both of you, hands behind your backs!”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out zip ties, tying the man’s hands first with her back to me.
“You’re not as foolish as you look,” she said to him. “You were right about tracking me to the plane. But you had the wrong person in mind.”
Another surge of fear for my baby made me act. With her standing with her back to me, I saw an opportunity and kicked her as hard as I could.
She stumbled and fell, dropping the gun. She had been distracted talking to him that she didn’t finish zip tying the man’s hands yet, so he tackled her.
As he did, we caught a glimpse of the gold necklace hanging around her neck.
“She’s the real thief,” he said, securing her. “She’s been posing as different people to avoid capture. I have no idea how she managed to board this flight as an attendant.”
“You are so brave for doing what you did. Thank you for getting to her before she tied me,” he said.
“I was just afraid for my baby,” I said, sighing. “I acted on instinct.”
The rest of the flight was a blur of apologies from the man and explanations to the crew and authorities.
“I’m Detective Connor,” he said, shaking my hand after.
The woman was arrested upon landing, with about fifteen police officers standing at the gate, just waiting.
“I am truly sorry for what you’ve been through,” Connor said.
“Just explain to me what happened,” I replied, needing closure before heading out to find my husband.
“We’ve been tracking this woman for months. She’s been stealing valuable items and using various disguises to evade capture. I received a tip that she would be on this flight. When I saw you, and your hair, I just thought…” he trailed off, clearly remorseful.
“You thought I was her,” I finished for him. “Well, I’m not. And now you know.”
“Yes, and I’m very sorry for the mistake, Kayla. I hope you can forgive me.”
Despite the ordeal, I felt a strange sense of relief.
As I walked through the doors and saw my husband standing there with yellow tulips and a wide smile on his face, I instantly felt at peace.
“Welcome home,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
We drove home in silence, just enjoying being in each other’s presence again. But when we got home, I sat down with Colin and told him everything that had happened on the flight.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, his eyes wide. “Are you shaken? Should we take you to a doctor to make sure everything is okay?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m absolutely fine, I just wanted to come back home to you.”
My husband put his hands on my stomach and smiled at me.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he said again, kissing my stomach.
What’s this object called?
Answers from the Community
- Trench lighter – I’ve got one from my father. It was often made from spent rounds with a few modifications to create a lighter. I had a .20 caliber case with an old threepenny coin soldered in the base, which was also a lighter.
- Army lighter that lights in the wind while covering the flame to avoid getting your face shot off.
- It is a lighter, but it might be a replica.
- It’s a miniature nuclear bomb hand grenade. DON’T pull the pin!
- Looks like a copy of an Austrian 1920s IMCO windproof lighter.
- Looks like a bobbin for an old treadle sewing machine.
- It’s a lighter – I’ve got one made of brass.
- Windless lighter – hard to find parts for it, but worth the effort to make it work. Awesome find!
- Miniature German hand grenade used by trained suicide ferrets in WWI. They ran up your pants leg and detonated at a critical junction, thus damaging many Privates’ privates.
- Military torchlight for when you can’t light campfires.
- I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.
- Trench lighter from WWII.
- Windproof lighter.
- I have one and it’s a lighter.
- It’s a coconut, duh.
- Prototype proto pipe.
- Steampunk suppository.
- Fire starter, flint.
- A vintage lightsaber.
- A vibrator from 1890.
The WW1 Trench Lighter: A Piece of History
The WW1 Trench Lighter stands as an iconic piece of history, highlighting the ingenuity born out of necessity during wartime. Soldiers in the trenches of World War I needed a reliable way to light their cigarettes or pipes amidst harsh conditions. Traditional lighters often failed in the wet and muddy environment of the trenches.
The Invention
Enter the Trench Lighter. This simple yet effective device, typically made of metal, featured a hinged mechanism that protected the flame from wind or rain. Soldiers could easily ignite it with one hand, keeping the other hand free.
Craftsmanship and Resourcefulness
These lighters were often crafted from spent bullet casings or other scrap materials found on the battlefield. This showcased the resourcefulness of soldiers. Beyond their primary function of providing light and fire, they became cherished keepsakes, serving as tangible reminders of wartime experiences.
Collector’s Item
Today, WW1 Trench Lighters are sought after by collectors and history enthusiasts, offering a tangible connection to the soldiers who once carried them.
The Trench Lighter’s Legacy
Also known as a “pipe lighter” or “pocket lighter,” the WW1 Trench Lighter holds a unique place in military history. Born from the needs of trench warfare, these lighters were not just functional tools but also symbolic artifacts of soldierly resilience and innovation.
Design and Durability
Typically crafted from brass, steel, or other durable metals, the Trench Lighter consisted of a tubular casing with a hinged lid protecting the flame. Inside, a flint and striking wheel mechanism produced a spark, igniting the fuel reservoir.
Adaptability
Designed to withstand the damp, muddy, and windy environment of the trenches, the hinged lid shielded the flame and prevented fuel loss, ensuring reliable ignition even in adverse weather.
Sentimental Value
Many soldiers crafted their own lighters using readily available materials, adding a personal touch. Engraved initials, regimental insignia, or other markings often adorned these lighters, transforming them into cherished mementos of camaraderie, hardship, and survival.
Enduring Legacy
Though the heyday of Trench Lighters ended with WWI, their legacy endures. Today, these vintage lighters are prized by collectors and history enthusiasts, offering a tangible link to the past.
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