Okay, I have a secret to tell, but only because we are such good friends now. I am scared of one thing in my life. It's not bears, or being lost and stranded in the wilderness with nothing to eat but the little animals I will snare with a hair elastic and a boot lace. It's much worse than that. And the fear is gripping, uncontrollable, and paralyzing. What terrifies me most, in the whole world, is the dark. And not just the dark, but the monsters that reside in it. Ever since I was a little girl I have been tortured byt the dark. My dad has told me my whole life, "there's nothing in the dark, thats not there in the light" and I would reply, "I know, but I can't see it coming in the dark" Even now, to go to bed at night, I have to turn all the lights on between where I am and where I am going, and then I turn them of as I make a run for my destination, certain that something is going to grab me from the evil dark. Tonite, just a few minutes ago, I was sitting on the couch reading my new favorite book, and went to tell Shooter he should go to bed. I walked through the living room, past the opening to the front door and the kitchen, and thats when I seen something out of the corner of my eye, it was a 4 foot tall little moster hiding in the corner, I screamed, jumped in the air and back-kicked, ninja style, just in case it was making a lunge for me, and ran to where Shooter was. As I broke into the safety of the bright light in the office, I instantly came to my senses and realized it was Big Daddy's golf set, sitting in the corner, not a demented little monster waiting for its big chance to get me. I had walked past them all day, even been pissed with B.D. for leaving them there, yet, the minute it gets dark, they turn into a troll, with big fangs and glowing yellow eyes. My kids actually laugh at me and my over active imagination. You would think someone like me would know better than to watch horror shows, but nope, you guessed it, I insist on watching them. I sit there in blanket, wide eyed, glued to the t.v. watching most of the movie with my hand covering my face, peeking throught the cracks, with the liviing shit scared out of me. The minute the movie is over I make a run for the bedroom, so that I don't have to be the one to turn out the lights. Its pathetic, really. Why feed the fire? I am actually one of those people that checks over my entire car before I will get in it at night. Better to meet the axe murderer head on, where I can punch his lights out, than have him sneak up behind me while I am driving. I watched the Blair Witch Project, when I was a married adult with kids and my own house, I cried all the way home from the theatre and stayed at my parents, traumatized for a week afterwards. I can write a whole blog on that one. I probably will. Its been a slow week.
Here is the monster that tried to get me. The light in the background was not on and I came from the dark spot in the left. Believe me. It was scary. I barely escaped.