There are things in life that are truly frightening. You know, those moments where you feel like your skin has disengaged itself from the rest of your body and wrapped a double helix around the rest of it. Not a pretty picture, right? But we all know those moments. For each of it that thing that goes boom in the night is different.
Around the age of ten I was afraid of the little invisible monsters that roamed around the floor of my room. Don’t worry I was safe on my bed. For some reason the little guys hadn’t developed the ability to do things like climb – or make noise for that matter. They just ran around on the floor, waiting for me to step on down into their world. I was always able to outsmart them though. That’s one of the nice things about constantly being under siege from an undersized invasion. You really have to develop your wits.
I would wait until the very moment that I knew the most recent little watchman had made its way past my bed and make a dash for the door. Of course my movements would have to be lightning fast, or else they would know that I had left blanket-covered stronghold. Upon returning to the room, I was always fast enough to make it back underneath the covers before being spotted. With all the difficulty of getting in and out of bed, you would think that I would’ve had a fairly significant bedwetting issue. But it all comes with training and preparation.
In times of war, you have to train yourself to act in a different fashion than you normally would. I’m sure my subconscious just trained my body to drink less fluids in the evening – and possibly to increase the size of my bladder to abnormal proportions in the evening time. At any rate, those little gremlin-type creatures (I had never seen the movie, so I’m not sure if they resembled them or not) were never able to latch onto me. Yet, even with the complete lack of any physical evidence to support my belief, I always knew they were there. The moment the lights went out, the games were afoot.
The little creatures on the floor of my room (for they never went anywhere else in the house, for obvious reasons) never became known to my parents. Either the little things saw my parents as the strong ones of the pack (less likely), or they saw me as the dominant one (more likely) and had specific orders to keep an eye on me. After all, I was able to sneak away without them knowing about it. I never received a medal or anything from the government. But once I got older and watched a few movies (especially the Jason Bourne trilogy), I realized that the government just didn’t want the information to get out. So I gave up on the idea of a medal, and now I just hope they’ve got a pension stacked away for me or something. Here’s to hoping, eh?
Did I get over the fear of the little monsters? Tune in next time. To be continued…
In the meantime, what is one of your silliest fears, past or present?