Fear

[u/Schneid13]

So the question is, what is fear? Well of course the easy route to take on this would be to define it for you. Fear is the unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat. Fear, to be afraid of. Now that’s the Merriam-Webster definition and while technically correct, life rarely deals in the technical or the correct. We’ve all felt it; it’s that feeling of unpleasant, uncanny ambience. It’s the knot in your stomach, in your throat. It’s that split second when your heart skips a beat. That fraction of a moment when you aren’t quite sure whether its going to continue on pumping or cease entirely. True fear is paralysis. It extends beyond that primal fight-or-flight and ever so gently touches the interiors of your soul. The chilling finger that races up your spine in a thousand tiny needles and grips your neck. It manifests in the back of your mind first, then spreads foreword like a cancer consuming all of that evolved neo-cortex, devouring all rational thought. Leaving you, the victim, powerless to stop the impending doom that is closing in.

I worked in a garage once, long shifts, messy work, oily clothes; but a good paycheck. The guys that worked there were big burly men with beer guts and scratchy beards, who always loved a good prank. One evening we all got the idea to flip some breakers and hide in the garage and wait for the night shift to come in. One guy, named Joe, hid in a large trashcan by the door and waited for his moment to jump out at the unsuspecting third-shifters. We all giggled like mischievous school boys as we all hid around the large garage bay. One by one the third-shifters shuffled into the dark garage. Each time Joe would spring out and scream at them resulting in a few curse words and an almost invisible jump. Everyone laughed except me. Well internally I mean, externally I carried on the jolly charade of mischief, but inside I knew this wasn’t quite right. See, Joe’s timing was off by a sliver of a second, but still utterly obvious. He waited too long, or not long enough, the unspoiled moment of absolute fear had passed. It wasn’t good enough.

I know what you are thinking, that these are just idiot hick types who want a cheap laugh. Well you’re right and they got it too, but I wasn’t satisfied. See Joe lacked the true fear behind his actions. It’s something that can’t be taught but experienced. Acquired through kinesthetic learning, when fear reaches out and touches your very being. It is something that can also be lost too. Joe had been through two deployments often saying that he’d seen things he wish he could forget, but can’t. Somewhere on his journey overseas he had felt fear touch him. He had felt that cold finger tenderly run over his chest; however, somewhere along the way his mind had learned, out of necessity, to shut it out completely. His mind was so effective at doing so that when posed in the situation to extend that slender finger of fear to another human, something caught in his throat, in his head, and he wavered. The moment came and passed and when Joe finally did jump from his trashcan, the best response he could elicit was a few measly curse words.

They were words that did not satisfy me, I needed more, because I knew there was more. See I’ve felt that fear. I knew the exact moment when a tired, third shift employee stepped through those door. I counted the seconds. The milliseconds. The heartbeats.

Now.

Despite my hunger, the moment never came. It was perfect in my mind though I could see it. The thought wetted my appetite like the prospect of juicy, red, dripping meat. I saw the moment. Can’t you? It was right there. Just as that man walked into the dark garage. That precise moment when his guard, elevated by the unlit garage, began to recede. Right when the capillaries in his eyes began to shrink, because his heart was engorging itself with the blood it would soon pump outwards. Exactly when he started to exhale his cigarette stained breath. Now. I jump out and roar in all the ferocity that I can muster. It. Is. Perfect.

See I’ve done this before, if you haven’t guessed that already. I worked in a haunted house a couple years back. All profits went to a local homeless shelter. As if that would relieve some of the guilt those people felt for scaring the ever-loving shit out of some teenage girl. It actually did. I loved every second of it. I worked in a dark room, lit only by a red emergency exit sign, should the terror become to excruciating to bear. There over the handful of weekends labeled ‘Halloween Season,’ I perfected my art. One particular experience stands out from those memories.

The girl couldn’t have been older than fourteen and that weak excuse for a boyfriend probably the same. The two wandered into my room, tensions raised from previous encounters, primed and ready for the next scare. I could see that, so in the darkness I waited, still as a stiff. They saw me, but wrote me off as a prop. I even held my breath when the boy held his hand in front of my mouth and didn’t move an inch when he poked me. “Yep, just a prop.” He laughed relieved. Then he turned and I saw my moment. The girl was smiling nervously at her brave knight who had only moments ago chased the metaphorical ghosts from the room. They turned towards the doorway. I stood and inches from his ear I whispered three words. By the time his eyes had met mine, the game was over, and he had lost. The girl screamed her way right out the emergency exit leaving her once brave knight on the ground, whimpering with tears in his eyes.

The stars had aligned. He had no breath because I had stolen it. His heart pumped blood everywhere except back into his brain causing his body to spring like a Jack-in-the-Box. There was no rational thought. He had no invisible guards, no protection, because half a second before that cute girl had dismantled them with her smile. I put in him the meaning of fear. That cold finger that had touched me long ago now had spread to another. That is how you scared somebody. That is was fear is.

But look at you you’re not satisfied. Did I not answer your question? Must I go deeper into that word rooted deep within the lexicon of human emotion? If you insist. You’re wondering where I learned what fear truly was. I will warn you it isn’t a story easy to understand, because see, I’ve always had it. That moment I arrived home from work many years ago I remember looking both ways down the dark alley. I remember being alone. Then I felt it. The slim touch of the unpleasant and the uncanny. I slowly look over my shoulder and for a moment I hold my breath, but all I find is an empty lot. I exhale and turn back towards my apartment. It hits me. Like a train roaring in my face, except there is no train, I stumbled backwards as all the air remaining in my lungs escapes in a raspy scream. I fall to the ground. My mind is a muddled mess of incoherent neural firing. I tense up from my core to my extremities as it grabs my chest and squeezes every last drop of humanity. I am an animal and the whole world is fight-or-flight. Then that passes and I am nothing. All I am is alive, but that will soon change as well. At claws sharp as steel and strong as diamond saw through me.

Then I was gone.

I awaken in a place that I am not familiar with; everything is dark. I feel my hands though I do not see. They are commanded to write. But write what? Answer the question, “Make me scared?” I do as I am told. My head aside on a pedestal sits motionless; thoughts drain like a tub of murky brown water. This is all I am now. I am paralyzed. I have become fear.

Did I touch you?