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A quote: “The only way to get rid of my fears is to make films about them.” ~~ Alfred Hitchcock
I’ll start with a story …
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Nightmare.
Gotta be. This darkness is my room. That’s my clock glowing green.
But I feel no comfort. My heart is too loud in my ears, I’m slick with sweat that plasters my hair to my skull, my nightgown twisted and bunched up under my arms.
A scream tries to escape from my throat…
Stop it!
If I can just untangle my legs from the sheets …
Whathe ….?!
The closet door is open?
I’m yanked off the bed and realize it’s not sheets paralyzing my legs and I claw at the carpet as I’m dragged into the black under the bed.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
Sheila Garrett says: We face them across the room; Obama, Hillary, Soros. I and my family at last have them in our power. The men are poised, ready to destroy our enemies. Then… a still, small voice speaks in our hearts.
NO-O-O!! Our men rage, so close to our goal. Surely the world would be better without these heartless, power-hungry people in it. We weep, but slowly accept the judgement.
“Harm them not. These are My instruments on Earth as you are. They do My will as you do. Peace, go your way.”
We are not angels, only human. We choose to obey and the world goes on it’s expected way.
Skillyboo says: It’s happening again. No not again. I can’t, I can’t. I scream I can’t, or did I? Just need to open my eyes but I can’t.
Again I try but they are shut, tighter than ever. It’s like their glued shut. Why can’t I see? I can see the light, I can see movement, I can hear noises. Nothing is clear. Everything is blurred but it’s there, it’s real. Or is it? What am I not allowed to see?
Sweat, I’m soaked in sweat. I’m not hot, I’m freezing but I’m soaked in sweat. Oh God what’s happening to me……
Phoenix says: I remember…
As a child I was afraid to put my feet on the floor and step away from the bed. There was a monster under there, after all.
I remember…I remember being being paralyzed in fright and my mother calling me…ordering me out of my room and into the kitchen.
Then one day the monster poked his head out from under the bed, looking at me with eyes as frightened as mine. He was blue, his name was Sullivan, and he was just as scared of me as I was of him.
We’ve been friends ever since.
Dr. Strange says: Slowly my mom closed the door, as I heard the tired, rusty hinges screeching out into the night.
BOOM!
The door is shut, the temperature in the room drops 20 degrees. I feel something shuffling around underneath my bed.
She forgot my night light! She always forgets my night light…My night light is my only protection between my world and what goes on underneath my bed.
I’m 13 years old now. I am strong, and I’m growing into a man. I know it’s under my bed, so I reach for it.
Playboy, spring edition. Redheads on campus.
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