~~*NOTE: THIS PESSIMISTIC TALE IS NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED! IT CONTAINS A SLIGHTLY CREEPY STORY! AND MY IMAGINATION! AND MY IMAGINATION IS NEVER GOOD WHEN IT COMES TO SLIGHTLY CREEPY STORIES! IT'S OKAY, YOU CAN READ THIS TALE IF YOU LIKE BECAUSE IT ISN'T ACTUALLY THAT SCARY BUT IF YOU GET SCARED OF SMALL THINGS, LIKE DOGS THAT BARK LOUDLY LIKE I DO, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY NOT READ THIS.~~*
So. I totally just scared myself. No, I mean I scared myself.* Literally. I was just sitting on the couch yesterday, minding my own business, reading a book and half listening to my Aunt's conversation with my brother and sister. So, I guess not really minding my own business. I zoned in when my brother began to tell a short story he read (I don't remember who it was by. Let me know if you want to know and I'll ask my brother) about this guy in an insane asylum? And this woman went to visit some relative of hers there, and she met the guy and she was like, why is he even here, he seems completely normal. And she asks one of the employees and they go: oh, yeah, he strangled a woman on a bike one day and he's been here ever since. So anyway, she goes home but she keeps writing letters and trying to get him out and stuff because she thinks he's sane or something? I don't know. Anyway, finally he is released from the asylum and he tips his hat and smiles and says goodbye to the employees and stuff and walks away all happy to meet the woman. And about 20 minutes later, he walks straight back in, still happy, still smiling and admits himself again. And down the street there's a strangled woman in a ditch! Spooky, eh?
Now, when I heard this, I was like: what a psycho! That's creepy. And then we got into a conversation about the Twilight Zone. But anyway. Like most scary things, that story wasn't so scary during the day time. But last night, it was super late and my sister and I were watching all these Gilmore Girls episodes (oh hush, I like the show, okay?) and she [my sister] goes: "I think I might sleep here tonight, (meaning the lounge), because I'm too tired to go back to my room and plus, that story today kind of freaked me out." WELL. Zoom, goes my brain, straight to that story! All the details flooded my mind! How happy he was! The strangling! The way he tipped his hat! And I just about freaked. Don't worry, I played it cool. Cool as a cucumber. Cool as a cat. Cool as a cucumber-eating Cat. Yeah, I just capitalized 'cat'. That's how cool I was. I was just like, "oh yeah, I might sleep here too because it's really comfortable here on my couch." But really I just didn't want to sleep in my room alone. So I raced to my room and grabbed my blanket and then ran back to the lounge room with my heart slamming against my ribcage and all I could think was 'holy crap he's right behind me and he's going to freaking strangle me and oh my Lord, I can feel his hands on my neck!' As you can see, I was a little over imaginative to say the least.
ANYWAY. So I set up a bed on the couch and just as I'm getting sleepy my sister gets up and tells me she's moving back to her room. Because she has this thing where she can't sleep unless she's on her bed. And there was no way in hell I was going to stand up and move back to my room because the guy would grab my legs and pull me under the couch. So I just said goodnight and stayed in the lounge. I thought it was no big deal. I could get back to sleep right? Hell no. I spent 30 minutes whipping my head around the room every few seconds to make sure nothing was going to eat me. Or strangle me. Or abduct me. Or murder me. Or whatever. So after about the fortieth time of practically breaking my neck from checking over my shoulder, I got the courage to move to the other side of the couch where I could see all around the room. I then spent about two hours keeping guard. It was probably around 3 or 4am when I finally dropped off. It was the scariest two hours of my life. I swear. My mouth was dry, my legs to shaking, my hands were clammy and my senses were like, ten thousand times more alert. But I'm still alive. I am such a survivor.
And here's the thing. The story itself isn't that scary. It really isn't. It was the details that freaked me out: the tipping of the hat, to be specific. It gives me chills. I don't know why. And the other thing was that I conjured up the image of the guy - in my mind, he is wearing a bowl hat and plaid jacket (God knows why) and...this is such a weird thing to write...he has no eyes. Yep. No eyes. I mean, where his eyes should be? Just black holes. And he's still smiling. TELL ME THAT DOESN'T CREEP YOU OUT. Why do I do that? I kept telling myself, don't picture him, don't picture him, don't retell the story to yourself, don't retell the story to yourself, picture daffodils, picture Bambi, picture daffodils, picture Bambi. And what do I do? I picture the guy. I retell the story. Daffodils what? Bambi who? What is wrong WITH ME? Eyeless??
Back to my first line, I literally did just scare myself. I went into the bathroom to wash my hands because I just made meringues* and my hands were sticky and I was thinking, oh, holy macaroons, if there are any holy macaroons out there please don't let him be in the ceiling watching me. And then I turned around and found myself face to face with myself in a mirror. I jumped about a mile and let out a tiny squeal. Therefore, I literally just scared myself. I can't believe I just told you a whole story and told you a creepy image just to end up with me scaring myself.
Anyway. I'm really sorry if I scared anyone out there. I know that might sound silly because I get so pathetically scared of such things but if I did, I apologize. Try not to send any excessive hate mail, 'kay? Again, sorry.
And on that super happy note, I bid you farewell.
P.S You know what is entirely weird? I think I'm actually going to read the story. My brother has it in his room somewhere. Why would I want to read a story that has scarred me for life?? I read somewhere that we watch scary movies and read stories because it gives us, like, an adrenaline rush? And its like a controlled fear? So I guess that makes sense. Because I have this theory that we need an adrenaline rush every now and again. And I'm too scared of heights to actually go skydiving or whatever even though it's on my List of Things to do Before I Die. Look how important that looks, all bold and underlined and italicized. Read it in a booming voice, just for me, okay? Oh, right: I'm too scared of heights to actually go skydiving or whatever so I guess I need to read scary stuff in order to get my dose of adrenaline.
PP.S Do you think I'm crazy? For being so scared of this? And being scared that he gonna like, grab my ankles or watch me from the ceiling? I don't know. I have a really, really, super over-active imagination so maybe I just over-scare (word?) myself.
* I used a lot of italics and underlines and even a bit of boldness in this post because I really felt the need to show you guys the seriousness of my fear. Actually, I use italics and underline and bold and capitals a lot because I like the dramatic touch.
* I make super good meringues. Seriously.
Don't worry, you're not alone!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was a bit younger, I could not be in the room by myself or sleep alone. I would literally start panicking, screaming bloody murder, crying, shaking, my heart would race. It was scary, and it lasted for years!
Someone always had to be in the room with me, and I would have to see them, because even if they were there and I knew they were, but I could not see them, I would start panicking. Also, it didn't matter that I knew that, for instance, my brother was in the bathroom and I could call him if I really needed to, I would still panick, and, if someone were to go outside the room, I would have to watch them go and chat with them as they did, otherwise I would start panicking again, and I even did a little bit even if I did see and hear them!
I usually slept with my mother, and I would check if she was breathing about every six or seven minutes, and I could never turn to the wall [mine and my brother's bunk bed is right next to the wall] because then I could not see if someone would come in the room and near the bed.
To this day, I don't know what exactly was I scared of. But I always imagined this dude coming into my home, first killing my parents, then my brother, and then he would start searching for me, as I hid into the closet, and when he could not find me, he left, leaving me alone with my parents' and brother's corpses. Ugh. Nasty, I know, and I'm sorry if I scared you! There were a lot more details, but for your sake, I will not share them, haha.
Anyways, I just wanted to point out that you are not alone, and that I also used to get scared easily and I really have an incredible, scary imagination that used to scare the crap out of me!
BUT! But, I also would like to tell you I got over it, and now I'm practically fearless. I read and write scary stories, and watch horror movies, so it's really just a thing of the past. I believe you'll get over your trait of being scared easily as well! :)
Trust me, you are not crazy! If anyone is crazy, it's me. I mean, at least you know what started your fear. I don't even know what started mine! I didn't read scary stories, watched horror movies or anything. Huh. And I also thought the dude would, like, jump on me, or grab my ankles while I moved, or was right behind me. [I could swear I could feel his breath on my neck!]
And in your defense, that story is a bit creepy! I got scared of the details too, it was the worst bit.
Sorry for the very long comment and it being a bit out of order, but I just wanted to help you a bit, even though I just did a long, pointless rant, haha!
Sincerely,
Nissa
Nissa - Yikes, that does sound scary! Thanks for reassuring me, I must say, I was afraid I was being too scared. I'm such a coward. I swear, our imaginations will be the death of us.
ReplyDeleteHello. Do you mind telling me what the story was called, please?
ReplyDeleteNikki - Sure. =] It's a short story by Evelyn Waugh and I believe its called Mr Loveday's little outing.
ReplyDeleteI understand what you mean about the little things being the creepiest. Such as, the tipping of the hat. What possibly makes that creepy is that it's such a jovial, possibily gentlemanly gesture, which complete contradicts his psychopathic actions. Eek! Hey, y'know what creeped me out? The title of the story: "Mr Loveday's Little Outing". Little Outing?? What?! I think it's the same concept - it sounds like something fun, like a picnic in the park or something, when really... O_O I still need to read the story, though. I actually like watching scary movies or reading horror novels or creepy stories, it's interesting what you said about it being a controlled fear.
ReplyDeleteHere's a random story: After I watched The Ring, I kept imagining the girl in the movie coming into my room. Or when I'd go into the bathroom in the middle of the night, I'd imagine her crawling up the stairs. So to make it less scary, I imagined her dancing the macarena. It worked, I laughed xD
Anyway, I loved this post - you were hilarious as usual :D And it would be interesting to see your List of Things To Do Before [You] Die, maybe you could post it - editing out anything personal, of course.
.X
Nina - I gotta say, the macarena thing made me laugh. =] You're so right about the Little Outing. And Mr. LOVEday? Who names a killer that? Its creepy.
ReplyDeleteI'll post my List of Things to Do tomorrow afternoon...when school ends and...I'm on holidays! Woot! Actually I don't really feel excited until my parents have seen my report otherwise I just feel worried. =P Typical.