Someone once told me that horror writing, good horror writing, often involves writing about what personally scares oneself.
I don’t apply this rule very much.
Partially because I don’t enjoy scaring myself—and partially because my fears are not all that interesting. They are mundane, mostly.
But hey, it’s almost Halloween, let’s have some fun.
I hate/fear/cower from the following.
Vertigo. Massive open platforms. Places with almost no guard rails. I cannot stand it. Of course, as many people with acrophobia will tell you, it’s not so much a fear of falling, or heights, as it’s a fear of hitting the ground.
Ugh—fuck scorpions. I can deal with spiders and roaches even if I am grossed out by them—but real scorpions? Nope. No thank you. I, for some reason, don’t mind robot scorpions, or giant video game ones: it’s just the real thing. If I came across one I would panic and sprint in the other direction.
Look, I know it’s just rope, but, ugh…hanging just bothers me in all its facets. There’s the obvious really, very, very sad thing that sometimes comes up around nooses, but, even past that, I once was informed that being hung results in a horrific whine in the dying person’s ears as they lose oxygen—and, just, nope. I can’t handle it. Even old cowboy movies take on a darker turn because of the presence of nooses.
- Head trauma
Especially extreme damage to the eyes or the upper head. I value my brain a lot and I need my eyes to read and watch stuff. I do not mean to demean anyone who has had damage there, but, just the idea of my mind or my perceptions being altered forever by some hard, fast force is terrifying.
I could go very political here if I so desired and I necessarily have to a little. A device that ends a life in a millisecond that is common, handheld, and capable of being used by accident, is morally and existentially frightening while also being much more personal in use and scope than any nuclear device.
- The concept of oblivion
I think everyone is afraid of this, on some level, but…my mind has trouble wrapping around the idea of not being able to use my mind. Of simply being…not. My perception of myself is all I have of myself, ultimately, and losing that…ugh. The idea of not knowing, because knowing is not oblivion, is a headfuck that I don’t even want to think of past writing this.
Well…that was hard to write.
But, yeah, that’s my fears.
No one use this against me this Halloween.
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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Want to read something longer by me? How about a whole novel!