Writing Challenge: Boo!

[Emiko Nakajima]

***A Message from your Local Fear Monger***

You want fear?

I’ll show you fear.

Every nightmare you wake up to screaming, and every distress you keep locked in your head, I’ll rip it out. I’ll flesh it out. I’ll tear open the cellar doors, and your monster will rip free from its chains. I’ll throw open your closets and let the skeletons from the depths rise from the floorboards and come waltzing in with the saints, teeth chattering in their heads. They’ll samba out to me, clinking and clawing, and whisper in my ear as they pass my rigid form. They’ll rasp and groan your secrets and I’ll smile, because I know how to make you scream and writhe and despair in every way, shape, and form.

***BUT REMEMBER SOMETHING***
BEFORE I’M CHASTISED
You gave me the key.

You see me in the dark and call my name, approach me. I wear the mask of your friend and comrade in arms. You think you know me because you have seen my face and speak to me. You might have had dinner with me. You might have held me once, thinking I was clutching you in the same warm embrace. You all think me so warm. To me, you are all as cold as ice. But in the end, when all of you fire into my face, the façade crumbles, be you friend or foe, and the real me is already behind you. I am chopping your legs out from underneath you with my rusty claws.

***WAIT A MINUTE***
They aren’t rusty.
My mistake entirely.
That’s merely the remnants of
the dried blood from everyone else.
Do you really think you were the first
to be deceived?

You all think so highly of me.

You all think yourselves so special. You think you all are the first ones to have handed me trust only for me to suck it down without a second thought and choke it back out. Let me tell you a secret: trust is easy to come by. You give it to the person you sit next to on a bus, on a train. You trust them not to jump up and shoot you at random. You give your trust to everyone; you just don’t realize it yet. You think handing me trust is an honor? Please. If you want me to stay, hand me something a bit more sustainable. Trust has a bitter taste to it and, after having so much of it for so long, it’s bland. Trust to me tastes similar to black as night coffee- unfiltered, unprocessed, and much too strong for anyone to be taking it in gulps.

I am the paranoia that makes you turn when you hear a rustle. I am the worm in your brain that makes your pulse quicken. I am the blanket of paralysis that spreads over you when you see the round eye of the gun staring you in the face. And, believe it or not, I am the finger pulling the trigger.

Even the feared have fears. I am no exception. I fear many a thing, but after feeling fear for so long you cannot endure it. You grow immune. You master it. You move on. Those who are afraid of height overcome it when they are suspended above the ground day in and day out. They must. If they don’t, it will consume them. To be honest, I often wonder about those who are afraid of heights. Being as I have never had a problem with it, the reason escapes me.

***MY QUESTION***
Is it only the distance,
The point A to Point B?
Or is it simply that you
are not afraid of the height,
but of how hard the ground
may be?

People tell me often they aren’t afraid of spiders or snakes, and I nod slowly, because I’m thinking the same thing every time. ‘You aren’t afraid of one spider or snake.’ But try ten. Or a hundred. Uncomfortable yet? Sweating yet? You think discomfort is different than fear? Wrong. Discomfort is the same as fear, and I am here to serve.


So go on, distrust me. In fact, I’d commend you for it. Keep your distance from me. Warn your friends and coworkers. Keep your keys clutched tight to your chests. Keep your skeletons wrapped tight in your closets, the monster within you chained. If you don’t, something bad will happen to you. That something bad is me.

My name is Emiko Nakajima.

Please. Be afraid.