A Fearful Terror

 

a-fearful-terror

Fear comes in many forms. It has the capacity to cause dread, anxiety and nervousness. Fear is one of the most powerful tools that exists to facilitate control over somebody. Think back to when you were a small child and the things that frightened you. Many of them have a universal applicability. How many times did you cry out to your mother and father in the night because you were frightened of the “monsters under the bed” and you were terrified that once the bedroom door was closed that something would come creeping out of the wardrobe and induce utter fear throughout you? Perhaps it was the strange shapes that formed once the light was turned off with only moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtains so that the shadow thrown across the room appeared like some old crone waiting to come and take you away and eat you. How many times were you warned as a child never to speak to strangers, never to get into a car with somebody you did not know and never to accept sweets from a stranger? Do you recall how this conjured up images of smelly old men in stained raincoats who waited to abduct you and spirit you away to be locked up who knows where? Perhaps there was that house on your walk back from school which had attracted a certain reputation. It was run-down, the garden overgrown, with bushes spilling onto the path, the windows grimy and paint peeling. You were never sure whether anybody actually lived there. Some said that a witch resided there and she waited for children passing on their own before grabbing them and stuffing them in her cellar to starve to death. Others told tales on stormy afternoons which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, about the spirits that haunted the old house. A friend would swear that he had walked past, one wet and windy evening, just as it was going dark and he saw the face of a ghostly child staring at him from an upstairs window, the child’s spectral hands knocking against the window as if requesting help. After hearing that tale you took a different route home from school so you did not have to pass this particular house anymore. If that was not possible, you would run past, head down, shouting at the top of your voice to drown out any strange sounds that might come from the trapped ghost child, as you dared not even look towards the house. Fear often stalked your childhood and resulted in sleepless nights, nightmares and a reluctance to go to bed. Do you remember being sent to bed and staring up the stairs towards the darkness wondering what was waiting for you? How you did not want to appear scared in front of your parents (especially since they had let you stay up a while longer because you were a “big boy/girl” now). You wanted to hand those words back as you hovered at the base of the stairs, the hallway colder than the living room from which you had ventured. How many times did the noise of the house settling, resulting in strange groans and creaks convince you that somebody was waiting out of sight in a doorway, their heavy booted foot resting on the squeaky floorboard, rusty axe clutched in greasy, long-nailed fingers?  Did the sight of a clown have you running to hide in the folds of your mother’s dress, that strange leering and accentuated mouth creating panic in your tiny mind? What did that eerie clown have in mind for you?

It might have been a reluctance to paddle barefooted in the sea or a river because you could not see where you were putting your feet. You felt something brush your foot, most likely seaweed, but in your mind some razor-toothed fish was about to take a bite from your ankle or a crab was about to affix a pincer to your big toe. You turned and ran hollering from the edge of the sea back to the safety of the sandy beach. There may have been a murderer’s alleyway in your town, a badly-lit passageway between two roads which was a convenient and easy short cut during the day but a night the purported preserve of lurking knife merchants and yellow-toothed stranglers who were just waiting to pounce and take your life. You stood staring down the alleyway trying to drive the rising fear from you but it just would not go and instead you opted to walk the long way around. It took twenty extra minutes but at least you got home safely.

Fear continued to stalk your life as you grew older. You might not be worried about the bogeyman anymore but he has shapeshifted into the fear that comes with finding a lump about your body and not knowing what it is. Uncertainty about the business for whom you work has you tossing and turning at night. Wondering where the next pay check will come from has you similarly fearing for the future. Walking alone along a road at night and hearing footsteps behind you still causes your heart rate to increase. A glance over your shoulder as you cross the road to the over pavement only serves to heighten your worry as a hooded figure also crosses the road. Your step quickens as your fear increases and your mind floods with images of robbery, rape or murder. When alone in the house at night the sound of a bang from downstairs has you sat bolt upright in bed. What was that noise? Did you dream it? Was it somebody breaking in? Was it something not of this world, a poltergeist perhaps hurling a book against a wall. You cannot see what caused the noise and immediately the fear forms in the pit of your stomach, your racing mind conjuring up a score of unpleasant scenarios as you debate creeping to the top of the stairs and peering down to see if you can ascertain what it was.

Fear takes hold of you and makes your reasoning faulty. It tightens around your throat stopping you from calling out and turns your legs into stone so you are figuratively petrified and unable to escape that unseen tormentor. Fear withers you, paralyses you and you will do anything at all to escape that sensation of fear. It is pervasive, damaging and controlling.

Your greatest fears always stem from the unknown. It is that which you cannot see which causes you the greatest terror. When you cannot see something you are plunged into fear, its icy grip takes hold and you crumble. The unknown and the unseen create the fear. That is why we are so devastatingly effective in our control of you. That is why we create such numbing fear in you.

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15 thoughts on “A Fearful Terror”

  1. Nice!! I love a good scare!! I should imagine you do fear in your writing very well in general. I would love to hear a scary audiobook from you. No wonder Caroline liked you so much😈

    Happy Halloween 👻 to all the ghouls and our favorite Horrifying Gargoyle

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  2. The devil doesn’t come in the form of a red beast with horns . He is beautiful with blue eyes and comes as everything you have ever dreamed of .

    One of my favorite quotes

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      1. Mr. Tudor, do you see him in the mirror or just hanging out in a local pub?
        Starr, I can appreciate your optimism, but I’m a believer of balance. Where there is good, there also must be bad. Where there is light, there must be dark. Its a harmony. We cannot all be good. That would tip the boat over.

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  3. And the Devil whispered in my ear,
    “You are not strong enough to withstand the storm.”
    And I whispered in the Devil’s ear,
    “I am the storm.”

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  4. In the blade of a knife, there is a reflection of the one who is standing over me.

    That is until I slice the butter for my muffin.

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  5. The Convalescent Codependent
    22 mins ·
    Monsters
    My first monster was a family member’s boyfriend. I was three years old.
    To me he was a giant, and in fact he was well over 6 foot. I recall his face contorted in anger, and his voice spiteful, and full of rage and he didn’t just intimidate me, I knew other’s feared him as well, but no one said a word. I remember feeling very frightened by him. I have one memory in particular of my Monster, that makes him not only my first Monster, but my greatest. This man molested me, and the memory I have is almost like a dream, I can see myself with him as if I were a ghost watching what was happening to me. Someone drove up to the house and I ran up the stairs to pull my tights up and straiten my dress out. I quickly returned to my Monster and sat on his lap as if nothing happened. This was not his first time with me, clearly.
    I told an adult, and was sent to counseling, only I would never speak of the abuse again and the abuse stopped.
    I didn’t put too much thought into the abuse over the years. I had not acknowledged how brave it was for me to tell, and how scared and threatened I must of been to have never said a word about it again. I have always felt this Monster was evil, and I was not to blame. However I didn’t realize the psychological damage it played on my development. I would grow up feeling alone, as if I did not belong, not just to my family or community I grew up in, but that I just didn’t belong anywhere, period. I often felt disconnected and unworthy of love. I craved love and acceptance something awful, and acted out sometimes to deal with the constant rejection I felt whether real or just perceived. I would say or do things that would push people further away, it was as if I needed to sabotage any relationship I had, in fear of getting hurt. I didn’t deserve to be liked or loved. I had no sense of boundaries, and would allow others to treat me like crap and I would forgive blindly. I struggled immensely growing up, as I tried to make sense of who I was, not realizing I was broken into a million pieces. There are things the brain does to protect itself from trauma and the younger and less developed the brain is during the trauma the more mechanisms the brain uses to survive.
    My first Monster was obvious and his abuse was easy to call “abuse”. I would learn though, there are other Monsters. Monsters who look like Angels, monsters who sing lullabies and speak sweet praise. I learned that once you have been touched by a Monster, other monsters are drawn to you, for you have the damaged mark from previous abuse and you ooze vulnerability. Monsters instincts know you can be worn to submission, easily tricked, and you will give limitless amounts of your time and energy, and even resources.
    Monsters are void, empty and live without emotion. They feed off of other’s emotions from fear to respect, from hate to love, any emotion will do, any power and control you can give them, keeps them sustainable, without you they are nothing, they have no power, they are here to steal, and rob your soul, for they have none.

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