[POETRY]

[10/13/25]

Fear of Flying

by Anna Ticehurst

Flying in the dark is harder. Flying home is gloomier. Must find the perfect soundtrack. Oasis is strangely a no as are the Beatles. Musicals I find can be overwhelming. The layers of sound are too much no offence to Lin Manuel Miranda. Folkier stuff with clarity to them I find nicer and easier on ears which burn red. Dancing in the plane toilet constantly everything clenched whilst seated. Will disembark resembling long lost niece of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Nothing a bit of Carole King and a boogie in the loo can’t fix. My cousin gave me that tip; to lift one’s feet off the floor and dance. Man next to me has the deathly hallows symbol tattoo which I find strangely comforting in my time of inner crisis and excessively sweaty palms and armpits. At one point I was sure I was going to have to grab onto his hand thigh whichever was closer to stop myself from screaming. He buys haribos they smell nice. Didn’t offer me one the prick. Underlying prang of my phone dying the fact I forgot my housekeys and indeed a phone charger slowly dawning on me reaching my stomach. Not hungry anymore. I wish I was more tired too tired to have a panic attack. Sat at 12C at the emergency exit doors thingy so I’ll be among the first out in the case of an emergency. Ha. Woman two rows in front ordered a cheese toastie and didn’t say thank you. I hope it burns the roof of her mouth. It smells gorgeously fake. I wish I was hungrier. There’s a squished up chocolate muffin in my bag that I like the idea of devouring as a distraction. I fear I would simply vomit it right onto the potterhead’s lap. I tell myself I’m on a train or rainbow road in mario kart. Scared not to be held. Went to the toilet thrice in the past three hours. Everyone thinks I’m having food poisoning or am incontinent. Little do they know I’m going in to dance because of light turbulence.

Missed the last gatwick express no phone charger no house keys squished up chocolate muffin in my bag safe and sound you win some you lose some.

Anna Ticehurst is an actor and writer from Stockport, in the North West of England. She also writes and works for Tummy Ache UK, a slow fashion brand and magazine based around emotional honesty. It is in the spirit of emotional honesty that she wrote this piece. You can find her on Instagram @ticehurstanna and on Substack: https://substack.com/@annaticehurst