Irrational Fear

June 18, 2010
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Lights flicker, I thought to myself. It doesn’t mean anything. This does not show why I was hiding under the table. I guess I was afraid. Deathly afraid.
The lights flickered again and went out. I hugged my knees close to me, my fear of what might happen next flooded over me like acid over a corpse, eating away at me. My thoughts were so inhibited, I couldn’t think, all that I could do was stay in my little ball position, trying to stay silent. With each breath I felt closer to whatever happened next. What if whoever was out there could hear me now?
I stopped my breathing completely. My fear, however, tore at the breath in my lungs, using it quickly, and it wasn’t long before I had to take a breath. This time though, I breathed softly through my nose, trying to listen for an approaching footfall that might signify the entrance of the man. The man who had killed my mother all those years ago.
The story isn’t very interesting, I saw the light go out years ago, and hid, as I always did, from the darkness. But I heard a scream and, when I looked up, there was a man standing over the body of a woman. My mother. Then he looked at me. Hatred and fear combined to make the strongest form of fear that mankind has ever felt. With that fear, the man seemed to mutate into a muscular, burnt monster, with enormous fangs for teeth. Since that day, I have had nightmares about the day that that man would return. Return for me.
Then the light came back on. I returned to the dishes that filled the sink.





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