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fear - symposium entry - original
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fear - symposium entry - original Fear is a strange thing. I remember as a , my sister and my brothers, we’ would court it. There was a storage closet in my brother’s room, long and dark, angled to fit the eaves. we’d sit at the far end, away from the door, telling terrible stories about terrible things until one of us would crack, break for the door, all of us pushing desperately to get it open but the knob was slightly off, fought us, panic grew, the pressure of our bodies eventually forcing it open, slamming it against Jack’s bed as we flew out, down to the sun of the kitchen where mama stood ironing. Home is a safe place to taste test terror. Mama would pour out some milk, hand out some hermits, watch us regain color, shaking her head. Then, one day I came home from school, pushed the back door open to a quiet I had never heard. No mama in the kitchen, no brothers underfoot. The rooms I knew so well seemed to swell around me. what is an ironing board without the smell of hot clothes? i tiptoed through the silence like a comic book burglar, edging around corners. I climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. The door to the closet was ajar, I ran for my life. I thought I tossed my jacket on the kitchen table when I came in, now it was hung on the peg. I called out for my mother but the sound of my voice seemed small, swallowed up. Tears burned my cheeks, I needed to know where my family was. Part of me was scared, part angry. I was little too. I heard a bangwhoosh, was out the door, up the driveway, across the street, sitting on the McClean’s stone wall, trembling in the cold, hands knotted in fists…. for hours. When they came back from the store in 15 minutes, Mama spotted me. she left the boys in the car. She sat next to me pulled me over onto her lap, even though I’d peed myself. She carried me in like a baby. Once she had me in the tub, she did my hair. She let me yell at her. Da sat me on his lap for dinner and I got two bites of his steak. Later, he showed me how the furnace turns on and off. Still, I went to sleep in my sister’s bed that night, turned on the bathroom light once Da went downstairs. In the middle of the night, I snuck down, crawled under my parents’ bed. I did that for a pretty long time. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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[image] You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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Now that was a scary story I can see why you would be so scared, thanks for sharing it with us. Great contribution to the Symposium.. Seduce the mind and see what a wonderful adventure the body will take you on.. 
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  Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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Wonderfully told. Amazing what our minds remember. Thoughts from the Garden...
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Ok now I am scared after reading this in wicked. Great contribution to this symposium and well written hugs V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Quite unnerving as a child to have all that is familiar gone with no explanation. Under the bed? That must have been kinda uncomfortable to say the least. "Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar? It is this: every man I meet is my master in some point, and in that I learn of him." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson  
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A great read.  Did you ever find out why your coat was on a peg and what the bangwhoosh noise was? 
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If you don't mind, I'll post links to your symposium entries on the group's page.
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I just love the way you tell a story. 
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10/9/2017 12:48 am |
Great storytelling well scripted 
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