Time to write!
Fear
“You can’t move a muscle,” Zachary said, his face very close to mine, his blue eyes sparkling with
mischief.
“But I’m not comfy, Zach,” I complained to my older brother. I already resented being put to bed so
early so that my brothers could go watch a movie while my parents were out on date that Friday night,
and now Zachary was squishing me, pulling the blankets so tightly around me that I couldn’t move my
legs at all.
“Listen, Breanna,” he said, very patiently, mooshing the blankets around my face and making me feel
like I was some sort of Breanna-filling in a big comforter taco shell. “Tonight is the night of the Living
Dead. If I don’t wrap you up this way, the vampires will come and they’ll kill you.”
At this age I’d laugh at such a statement. At fifteen I would’ve rolled my eyes. My twelve year old self
would’ve been beyond irritated at the incessant teasing and would’ve kicked the blankets off definatly-
probably kicking a bit of older brother too, just for good measure. But at nine years old, my only reaction
was horror.
Night of the Living Dead?
Who even knew there was such a night? And why in the name of all things good and gracious had my
parents left that particular night? Didn’t they love me at all?
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Friday, February 1, 2013
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Haunted House
Time to write!
May I first just say I adore the included definition on this prompt? It cracks me up. On the real. Second of all, Happy Halloween to you all! All five of you. :)
Well this was stupid. I always told myself I wasn't going to be that girl. You know the one I'm talking about, right? The dumb one! The stupid girl who gets talked into going into a haunted house, because some guy thought it would be romantic in the most messed up way. So much for always considering myself to be an intellectual.
This wasn't the first dumb thing I'd done. It was the second. The first dumb thing that I'd allowed to happen, that I'd vowed would never happen, was that I let myself like Mark Rommers. Mark was that boy. There's one at every school. He's cute and kind of goofy, and extremely irritating and yet everyone likes him. Like it doesn't matter who you are. If you're female and straight, no intellectual thought process is going to keep you from having at least an inkling of feeling towards Mark Rommers.
And while I'd love to get you truly caught up on the fascinating backstory, the truth is I have bigger problems to deal with right now. I'm stuck inside a house which I can't get out of. There's nowhere to hide because the house can feel us, it can feel our weight on the floor and it can feel the anxiety and stress that's causing us to hunch our shoulders and stick our necks out like wary chickens.
Sure, this house is haunted. I mean there's ghosts and everything. But the house also is haunted. Like the house itself is practically a ghost. Its a moving, reasoning, thinking being but it's not actually alive. And I'm afraid. True and honest afraid. Not that knee shaking sensation I sometimes get right before I stand up to make a rebuttal in a debate, but so afraid that when Mark Rommers reached out to take my hand I felt nothing new. All I felt was fear.
May I first just say I adore the included definition on this prompt? It cracks me up. On the real. Second of all, Happy Halloween to you all! All five of you. :)
Well this was stupid. I always told myself I wasn't going to be that girl. You know the one I'm talking about, right? The dumb one! The stupid girl who gets talked into going into a haunted house, because some guy thought it would be romantic in the most messed up way. So much for always considering myself to be an intellectual.
This wasn't the first dumb thing I'd done. It was the second. The first dumb thing that I'd allowed to happen, that I'd vowed would never happen, was that I let myself like Mark Rommers. Mark was that boy. There's one at every school. He's cute and kind of goofy, and extremely irritating and yet everyone likes him. Like it doesn't matter who you are. If you're female and straight, no intellectual thought process is going to keep you from having at least an inkling of feeling towards Mark Rommers.
And while I'd love to get you truly caught up on the fascinating backstory, the truth is I have bigger problems to deal with right now. I'm stuck inside a house which I can't get out of. There's nowhere to hide because the house can feel us, it can feel our weight on the floor and it can feel the anxiety and stress that's causing us to hunch our shoulders and stick our necks out like wary chickens.
Sure, this house is haunted. I mean there's ghosts and everything. But the house also is haunted. Like the house itself is practically a ghost. Its a moving, reasoning, thinking being but it's not actually alive. And I'm afraid. True and honest afraid. Not that knee shaking sensation I sometimes get right before I stand up to make a rebuttal in a debate, but so afraid that when Mark Rommers reached out to take my hand I felt nothing new. All I felt was fear.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
True Fear
Time to write!
Inspired by an actual experience!
I've done a lot of scary things in life, I've been to a lot of scary places, and I've seen a lot of scary things. I've seen things that would make any normal sixteen year old girl refuse to leave home ever again, with the possible exception of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have been places more gruesome than the Forbidden Forest, and you know, real, at that. I've fought monsters to rival those found in Middle Earth and have somehow lived to tell the tale.
But there is nothing that scares the freak out of me more than going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
I swear, there is no experience more frightening than using what is basically a public restroom at two in the morning.
Maybe it's just because you're stuck sitting there with your pants down that makes it so scary. Like if something were suddenly to show up, what would you do?
"Um? Excuse me? Could you wait for me to finish this? It's kind of important?"
In my more than limited experience monsters don't normally show that kind of consideration and creeps don't usually have that sort of patience.
Inspired by an actual experience!
I've done a lot of scary things in life, I've been to a lot of scary places, and I've seen a lot of scary things. I've seen things that would make any normal sixteen year old girl refuse to leave home ever again, with the possible exception of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have been places more gruesome than the Forbidden Forest, and you know, real, at that. I've fought monsters to rival those found in Middle Earth and have somehow lived to tell the tale.
But there is nothing that scares the freak out of me more than going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
I swear, there is no experience more frightening than using what is basically a public restroom at two in the morning.
Maybe it's just because you're stuck sitting there with your pants down that makes it so scary. Like if something were suddenly to show up, what would you do?
"Um? Excuse me? Could you wait for me to finish this? It's kind of important?"
In my more than limited experience monsters don't normally show that kind of consideration and creeps don't usually have that sort of patience.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Sharks
Time to write
One day I found out that sharks only kill five people annually. I was shocked. What a surprisingly low statistic. I thought to myself, But sharks are scary. They have all those sharp teeth and fast swimming skills and go all crazy when they smell blood, at least according to Finding Nemo. I wondered if there might not be some flaw in the research, especially when contrasted to the rest of the statistics provided. Let's rearrange the data and see what it tells us.
Least dangerous to most dangerous:
Sharks (5 people)
High School Football (20 people)
Hot dogs (70 people)
Deer (130 people)
Falling out of bed (450 American people. 'Murica.)
Hippos (2,900 people)
This alone could present an awful lot of writing prompts. For example, how embarrassing is it to die by falling out of bed?? How high up are these people's beds? I mean, for real!? And how would you react to finding someone dead who died just by falling out? Creeptastic? I think so.
And do hot dogs in particular kill more kids than other foods? Is this just a choking statistic? Are we giving hot dogs an unnecessarily bad rep? Like there isn't enough negative publicity towards hot dogs anyway.
But the main thing I'd like to know, is why the heck do hippos want to kill so many people!? I feel terribly about that, and feel a hippo story needs to be written soon. Real soon. You know. Along with the other twenty million prompts I still need to address.
I'd be interested to see the other statistics here. How many people does Voldemort kill a year? Less than 70. I mean, we freak out everytime he lets loose a wayward "Avada Kedavra", but is he any more guilty than the hot dog industry? No. I don't think so. And he's nothing compared to a hippo. In fact, if we take his average, he's probably no more harmful than something like a shark. No wonder Snape's patronus is a deer. That way he can be protected from Voldemort, because deer kill way more people annually. So, clearly, even in a fictional world, Harry's fear of Voldemort is completely unfounded. I rest my case.
And here's a cute baby hippo. Just to prove they aren't all born killers.
P.s. who's up for a new "Jaws" movie, but instead of being a shark, is a crazed hippopotamus. I think that's what the film industry needs right now.
One day I found out that sharks only kill five people annually. I was shocked. What a surprisingly low statistic. I thought to myself, But sharks are scary. They have all those sharp teeth and fast swimming skills and go all crazy when they smell blood, at least according to Finding Nemo. I wondered if there might not be some flaw in the research, especially when contrasted to the rest of the statistics provided. Let's rearrange the data and see what it tells us.
Least dangerous to most dangerous:
Sharks (5 people)
High School Football (20 people)
Hot dogs (70 people)
Deer (130 people)
Falling out of bed (450 American people. 'Murica.)
Hippos (2,900 people)
This alone could present an awful lot of writing prompts. For example, how embarrassing is it to die by falling out of bed?? How high up are these people's beds? I mean, for real!? And how would you react to finding someone dead who died just by falling out? Creeptastic? I think so.
And do hot dogs in particular kill more kids than other foods? Is this just a choking statistic? Are we giving hot dogs an unnecessarily bad rep? Like there isn't enough negative publicity towards hot dogs anyway.
But the main thing I'd like to know, is why the heck do hippos want to kill so many people!? I feel terribly about that, and feel a hippo story needs to be written soon. Real soon. You know. Along with the other twenty million prompts I still need to address.
I'd be interested to see the other statistics here. How many people does Voldemort kill a year? Less than 70. I mean, we freak out everytime he lets loose a wayward "Avada Kedavra", but is he any more guilty than the hot dog industry? No. I don't think so. And he's nothing compared to a hippo. In fact, if we take his average, he's probably no more harmful than something like a shark. No wonder Snape's patronus is a deer. That way he can be protected from Voldemort, because deer kill way more people annually. So, clearly, even in a fictional world, Harry's fear of Voldemort is completely unfounded. I rest my case.
And here's a cute baby hippo. Just to prove they aren't all born killers.
P.s. who's up for a new "Jaws" movie, but instead of being a shark, is a crazed hippopotamus. I think that's what the film industry needs right now.
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