Fair Warning
While sitting in a hospital waiting room I found myself across from my beautiful 16-year-old niece as we both silently pondered the significance of why were there. Knowing that we all have fears I decided to share with her some of my most deeply held fears that I am certain will persist throughout my life. Many have tried to dissuade me from these beliefs and each have met the unsavory taste of failure in their attempts. I esteem them greatly so anyone who desires to disagree will simply ignore the brutal truth.
I asked my niece, "Are you afraid of the dark?"
"No, she said"
"How about basements?"
"No. Well dark basements," she hesitantly admitted.
I now knew that I had a kindred spirit and a bond that would never be broken with my oldest niece and example for my own daughter. I confessed my own fear for basements and how the light dispels the fear. What surprised me was that she didn't know the source of the fear; I had believed that everyone who felt the fear of shadowed subterranean habitation could naturally intuit the origin of that chill that freezes the spine.
Some will claim that fear runs a chill up and down your spine but the horror that lies within a darkened basement is too cold to flow and will freeze you where you stand. I learned the secrets of the dark from my older brothers. They are twins and six years older than I; siblings who would do anything for me and protected me with their warnings. I was fortunate that our bedrooms shared a wall and that if our doors were open I could secretly hear their conversations.
On a blessed and fateful night I overheard them talking and discovered the dangers of the dark and night. One of them asked if the vampire in the pantry had managed to escape from his coffin. His twin replied that he had noticed a suspicious trail and that the box must have been moved into the storage room. They were both of the opinion that a werewolf must have been behind the change in location.
At that point their discussion changed to strategy and protection. I could tell that it was very important to have at their disposal the necessary weapons to defeat the enemies that lay in wait until they were free to roam in the dark. I was comforted that my protectors possessed the wooden stakes and the silver bullet that they would need if the monsters dared to cross the threshold of their room. They worried whether the silver bullet would work in the only gun in the house, but they had crafted a a plan of distraction so that they'd have time to get it.
Simultaneously grateful and terrified I lay awake, forever fortunate for my brothers who warned me of the dangers of the dark. Now I'm compelled to share with all who have a basement to consider themselves warned.
I asked my niece, "Are you afraid of the dark?"
"No, she said"
"How about basements?"
"No. Well dark basements," she hesitantly admitted.
I now knew that I had a kindred spirit and a bond that would never be broken with my oldest niece and example for my own daughter. I confessed my own fear for basements and how the light dispels the fear. What surprised me was that she didn't know the source of the fear; I had believed that everyone who felt the fear of shadowed subterranean habitation could naturally intuit the origin of that chill that freezes the spine.
Some will claim that fear runs a chill up and down your spine but the horror that lies within a darkened basement is too cold to flow and will freeze you where you stand. I learned the secrets of the dark from my older brothers. They are twins and six years older than I; siblings who would do anything for me and protected me with their warnings. I was fortunate that our bedrooms shared a wall and that if our doors were open I could secretly hear their conversations.
On a blessed and fateful night I overheard them talking and discovered the dangers of the dark and night. One of them asked if the vampire in the pantry had managed to escape from his coffin. His twin replied that he had noticed a suspicious trail and that the box must have been moved into the storage room. They were both of the opinion that a werewolf must have been behind the change in location.
At that point their discussion changed to strategy and protection. I could tell that it was very important to have at their disposal the necessary weapons to defeat the enemies that lay in wait until they were free to roam in the dark. I was comforted that my protectors possessed the wooden stakes and the silver bullet that they would need if the monsters dared to cross the threshold of their room. They worried whether the silver bullet would work in the only gun in the house, but they had crafted a a plan of distraction so that they'd have time to get it.
Simultaneously grateful and terrified I lay awake, forever fortunate for my brothers who warned me of the dangers of the dark. Now I'm compelled to share with all who have a basement to consider themselves warned.
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