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Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Things that go BUMP in the night.
Influence this week:
Spellbound- Lacuna Coil (Shallow Life)
Haunted- Stream of Passion (Embrace the Storm)
I hate scary movies. I detest them. It's the blood and gore and the whole idea of some idiot running up the stairs instead of out the front door. And they aren't screaming like a banshee either. If I was that terrified that someone was going to hack me up with a butcher knife and was coming at me don't think I wouldn't pierce their eardrums with my banshee cry. Besides, I've always said that someone should be more afraid to be locked in a house with me instead of the other way around. I've mastered the art form of the soundless walk and melting into the dark. You'd never see me coming.
Imagination has fascinated me since I was very young. I am my own worst enemy at night. My imagination is in a constant revolving state of hyper-awareness and every time I turn around my spidey sense starts to go crazy. I sit downstairs in the dark, the monitor light glowing and reflecting from the white walls and my mind starts to turn in gloriously dark ways. Night is eerily seductive. You can be afraid of the dark, yet it lures you into it's clutches every night as you close your eyes to sleep. You can be afraid to sit alone in a dark bar while you sip your vodka straight, yet there's something about the man standing the in shadows of the club that makes your heart beat a little faster. It's the danger of what might happen that is the kicker. You don't have to be an adrenaline junkie to enjoy fear; you just have to enjoy pushing your limits.
Before I started writing with Cin, my paranormal "heroine" (she hates to be considered a heroine. She'd rather smoosh the human race under her heel like a bug than save them) I used to dream a lot about people in the dark. About dark smoky clubs with bad lighting and the smell of blood so strong even a vampire would be repelled. The concrete floors would run with rivers of watered down red as the bar manager would take the hose to the club every night as he shut it down. I could feel his frustration running through my veins. I could hear the prostitute's gurgling sigh as she took her last breath in the alley. Immortals blood drunk and mean cornering humans unlucky enough to be standing on the sidewalk just before dawn. The language spoken crude but oddly beautiful before you heard pitiful screams offered up to the heavens. And yet, I walked through the chaos, barefoot and moving like smoke. No one looked up as I stood over their shoulder. No one dared to second glance me. It was like I didn't exist. Yet when I looked into her haunted blue eyes, she saw me- the frightened little rabbit in the snake hole.
Her lips upturned ever so slightly. Her brilliant white teeth stained red. And even though her lips never moved, I heard her say, "Welcome to my world."
For months I walked through her world in my dreams. I stalked down dark alleys and hid in the darkened corners of the club. My feet cold and cut and blackened from the asphalt during those hot summer nights. She told me to stay out of sight. Don't attract attention. Keep my hood up and shielding my eyes. I watched from that bar stool as she worked every night at the bar. I overheard the conversations and saw the gleam in their eyes as she walked by. She was an easy target. At least she let them think that way. There was something feral about the way she moved. She was careful. Careful not to move, careful not to speak. And then I saw him watching her from the shadows. For the first time since I'd known her, I saw her veneer slip. I saw the real her and it scared me.
The shift in her body language changed. If you hadn't spent night after night watching and memorizing you'd never caught it; but I knew as soon as she came up to me and grabbed a hold of my arm, the man meant trouble.
"Don't speak. Don't look. Keep your head down and shut up."
We closed out like every night. We took the back way out, into the alley with the prostitutes lurking. She was small compared to me, but moving much quicker. The shift was sudden, and she fell into a defensive crouch. She shoved me behind her and the toxic glow of blue engulfed the alley. Within a blink of an eye, she went from a seemingly normal being to a glowing light bulb. The electric charge singed my hair and afraid I fell back from her to my knees.
I felt fear. I felt it that night.
He stood at the exit of the alley, twice her size, shadowed by the street light behind him. I knew he was there for her. She thought he was there for me.
The silence stretched on. His eyes were intently focused on me. Her eyes on him. There was a dialogue going on that I wasn't a part of. I watched her shift, and her foot came closer to me as she brought her hand up in front of her palm first. That was the last thing I saw of her, he moved so fast, I never saw his fist coming.
I woke up in a blind panic. The covers knotted around my legs and bound me to the bed. Sweat rolled from my forehead and my heart leapt from chest. Under the Flood guitar rifted as my alarm screamed past my wake up time. I fell from the bed, knees weak, feet sore, arms aching.
The shower only amplified my imagination. The feeling of eyes watching my every move increased each time I closed my eyes. He followed me back. I dreaded the time when I was alone in the dark that night.
Yet, when I laid my head down to sleep that night, I dreamed not of Cin. I dreamed of nothing. The field, the wind blowing through the farmlands and the sounds of trees creaking under the stress of the high winds.
The feeling of electricity short-circuiting the air.
So now that I've revealed that I'm slightly creepy and paranoid in the dark, it's time for you to let loose. What sort of things creep you out? Childhood fears that you've shoved in the closet and long forgotten about- yet they've slowly worked their way into your writing? Does anyone else use their dreams for writing?
Spellbound- Lacuna Coil (Shallow Life)
Haunted- Stream of Passion (Embrace the Storm)
I hate scary movies. I detest them. It's the blood and gore and the whole idea of some idiot running up the stairs instead of out the front door. And they aren't screaming like a banshee either. If I was that terrified that someone was going to hack me up with a butcher knife and was coming at me don't think I wouldn't pierce their eardrums with my banshee cry. Besides, I've always said that someone should be more afraid to be locked in a house with me instead of the other way around. I've mastered the art form of the soundless walk and melting into the dark. You'd never see me coming.
Imagination has fascinated me since I was very young. I am my own worst enemy at night. My imagination is in a constant revolving state of hyper-awareness and every time I turn around my spidey sense starts to go crazy. I sit downstairs in the dark, the monitor light glowing and reflecting from the white walls and my mind starts to turn in gloriously dark ways. Night is eerily seductive. You can be afraid of the dark, yet it lures you into it's clutches every night as you close your eyes to sleep. You can be afraid to sit alone in a dark bar while you sip your vodka straight, yet there's something about the man standing the in shadows of the club that makes your heart beat a little faster. It's the danger of what might happen that is the kicker. You don't have to be an adrenaline junkie to enjoy fear; you just have to enjoy pushing your limits.
Before I started writing with Cin, my paranormal "heroine" (she hates to be considered a heroine. She'd rather smoosh the human race under her heel like a bug than save them) I used to dream a lot about people in the dark. About dark smoky clubs with bad lighting and the smell of blood so strong even a vampire would be repelled. The concrete floors would run with rivers of watered down red as the bar manager would take the hose to the club every night as he shut it down. I could feel his frustration running through my veins. I could hear the prostitute's gurgling sigh as she took her last breath in the alley. Immortals blood drunk and mean cornering humans unlucky enough to be standing on the sidewalk just before dawn. The language spoken crude but oddly beautiful before you heard pitiful screams offered up to the heavens. And yet, I walked through the chaos, barefoot and moving like smoke. No one looked up as I stood over their shoulder. No one dared to second glance me. It was like I didn't exist. Yet when I looked into her haunted blue eyes, she saw me- the frightened little rabbit in the snake hole.
Her lips upturned ever so slightly. Her brilliant white teeth stained red. And even though her lips never moved, I heard her say, "Welcome to my world."
For months I walked through her world in my dreams. I stalked down dark alleys and hid in the darkened corners of the club. My feet cold and cut and blackened from the asphalt during those hot summer nights. She told me to stay out of sight. Don't attract attention. Keep my hood up and shielding my eyes. I watched from that bar stool as she worked every night at the bar. I overheard the conversations and saw the gleam in their eyes as she walked by. She was an easy target. At least she let them think that way. There was something feral about the way she moved. She was careful. Careful not to move, careful not to speak. And then I saw him watching her from the shadows. For the first time since I'd known her, I saw her veneer slip. I saw the real her and it scared me.
The shift in her body language changed. If you hadn't spent night after night watching and memorizing you'd never caught it; but I knew as soon as she came up to me and grabbed a hold of my arm, the man meant trouble.
"Don't speak. Don't look. Keep your head down and shut up."
We closed out like every night. We took the back way out, into the alley with the prostitutes lurking. She was small compared to me, but moving much quicker. The shift was sudden, and she fell into a defensive crouch. She shoved me behind her and the toxic glow of blue engulfed the alley. Within a blink of an eye, she went from a seemingly normal being to a glowing light bulb. The electric charge singed my hair and afraid I fell back from her to my knees.
I felt fear. I felt it that night.
He stood at the exit of the alley, twice her size, shadowed by the street light behind him. I knew he was there for her. She thought he was there for me.
The silence stretched on. His eyes were intently focused on me. Her eyes on him. There was a dialogue going on that I wasn't a part of. I watched her shift, and her foot came closer to me as she brought her hand up in front of her palm first. That was the last thing I saw of her, he moved so fast, I never saw his fist coming.
I woke up in a blind panic. The covers knotted around my legs and bound me to the bed. Sweat rolled from my forehead and my heart leapt from chest. Under the Flood guitar rifted as my alarm screamed past my wake up time. I fell from the bed, knees weak, feet sore, arms aching.
The shower only amplified my imagination. The feeling of eyes watching my every move increased each time I closed my eyes. He followed me back. I dreaded the time when I was alone in the dark that night.
Yet, when I laid my head down to sleep that night, I dreamed not of Cin. I dreamed of nothing. The field, the wind blowing through the farmlands and the sounds of trees creaking under the stress of the high winds.
The feeling of electricity short-circuiting the air.
So now that I've revealed that I'm slightly creepy and paranoid in the dark, it's time for you to let loose. What sort of things creep you out? Childhood fears that you've shoved in the closet and long forgotten about- yet they've slowly worked their way into your writing? Does anyone else use their dreams for writing?
Labels:
Quartermaster's Queries (Sin),
Sin,
Writing for Rum
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60 comments:
Is today a twofer Tuesday? :)
I admit to being a fraidy cat. I lock my doors when I drive alone at night, I jump at the weird noises from the woods behind my house, and I read very little romantic suspense. Most of it gives me nightmares.
Oh, wow. Sin. Geez. What scares me? That place I disappeared into and the possibility of falling into that again. To fall asleep and be unaware that you are dying... Just the thought of it gives me the shivers and makes tears rise in my eyes.
Creepy? Oh, yeah. After that, not much scares me anymore. I can even, dare I say it? I can even contemplate that night, nearly two years ago and be peaceful. Now, but it took two years to get there.
Good Morning Sin!
Sorry I can't stop. I just posted in Hellion's blog and have no more time.
Will read your masterpiece when I get home tonight.
8)
Please ignore my first comment...that's history *grin*
Crumbs Sin, if I had written that I think I might have become confused, and temporarily lost touch with reality.
Cin is definitely my type of gal though. The adventurous, go anywhere, do anything type with a vulnerable sensitive soul.
The atmosphere you create reminds me very much of JK Coi's immortals, with dangerous demons and vamps lurking in dark alleys. At first I didn't think I would like it, but when a dash of romance is added it becomes strangely addictive.
I did experience these frightening feelings as a lad. Living in a fairly remote country house on a hill side, I found that while walking the lanes at night, the shapes of trees and bushes held hidden dangers and there was always the feeling that something dangerous was following.
I believe it is a common experience and has an evolutionary explanation from the times when tigers roamed the land and hominids lived in caves.
With you to hold my hand though, no worries! 8)
Wow, that was amazing. I like Cin, a lot and I love the atmosphere of that.
I hate scary movies too. When I was a kid, I had this evil babysitter who would force us to watch scary movies (seriously, if we tried to turn our head or leave the room, she'd scream at us to look at the TV. creepy!). So anyway, there was this one movie where there were big dust balls under the bed that came out and rolled down the street -- to this day, I can not let any part of my body dangle over the edge of the bed, because I'm sure something is going to grab me.
She made us watch Chucky too (I think I was about five at the time), and I still have nightmares about that one.
I don't really have dreams though, that I can remember -- or if I do, it's mundane things, like having a conversation with my boss. Nothing like your dreams, Sin!
Hal, that's awful! What ever happened to the creepy babysitter?
Sin this is wonderful, of course! I love Cin and the who world you're building around her.
Jessica Andersen (who's coming to hang out with us in August, I'm sooo excited!!) and I had this conversation (she's incredibly gracious) about how it helps, when writing paranormal, to spend as long as you can stand building the world. She said she spent months and months and a whole handful of drafts to get the world right. So that now she just has to tap into it.
As far as things that scare me, I'm deathly afraid of scary movies too. And some scary books freak me out too. :) I'm pretty much a giant wuss, I admit.
Though I do squash the bugs in our house.
What creeps me out: FUNERAL HOMES. Seriously, graveyards don't even creep me out as bad as funeral homes; and they're just full of dead bodies too. The smell of nasty carnations that doesn't really mask the chemicals; the pancake makeup; the creepy religious music that's supposed to reassure me that we'll all meet again--probably with them still wearing that nasty pancake makeup.
Dead bodies in general creep me out, wherever they're located. I don't even like looking at little mouse corpses...UGH.
OOOooohhh... Hellie, I just wrote a really good chapter and a half in a funeral home. You're going to LOVE it!
I definitely don't have dreams like this. Thank the heavens. Wonderful scene here though did he actually punch her? Gah!
The dreams I have now, when I remember them, are mostly just strange. They rarely make enough sense to turn into anything and I've never had my characters come to me in a dream. But maybe when I get to this more regularly, they will. A girl can hope.
There were two kinds of dreams I had as a kid that I don't have anymore. The ones where you fall and jar yourself awake. I think I even fell off the bed a couple of times. Then there were the ones where I was trying to run to or from something but everything around me was moving in slow motion. And the harder I tried to run, the more it was like struggling through quick sand. Invisible quicksand. I can remember the frustration of never being able to reach where I wanted to be.
Gosh, knowing what I know now, those dreams made so much sense. LOL!
I can't watch scary movies. TERRIBLE nightmares during my childhood. My poor grandmother, bless her heart, would sit up with me all night long because if I closed my eyes, the nightmares came right back. You'd think my parents would have had half a brain to stop letting me watch crap like Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street but NOOOOOOOOOOO.
Not that the chapter is really good WRITING, just that it's really creepy as that's what we're talking about. (I realized that didn't sound right....)
Dead bodies creep me out too. To see them during funerals is hard enough, but I can't bring myself to touch one. *major shivers*
But cemetaries don't scare me at all. Grew up with one not far from the house and I used to spend hours walking through it. Even got stuck in a cemetary at night once, but it didn't bother me. My sister and the other chick with me were totally freaked out. How was I supposed to know my muffler was going to halfway fall off right there? LOL!
You know, I was going to write another blog last night to take the place of this one, and now I dunno what I did with it.
I'm a mess.
Good mornin' y'all.
I loved scary movies when I was a kid, but I wouldn't give you a nickel for one now. I have a childhood hangup that still remains with me. I can't sleep with my feet sticking out from under the covers. I watched a movie where someone was hiding under the bed and grabbed the person's foot while they were sleeping. It freaked me out. I know it's silly, but I still sleep with my feet covered at all times:)I haven't written about my fears, but you never know.
Dean Kootz and Jeffery Deaver are both authors that have scared me so badly that I had to sleep with the light on. Their ability to take me inside the mind of their villian's creeps me out. Both are excellent writers that I would recommend to any one who likes dark mystery.
I very rarely remember my dreams, so unfortunately they don't foster any writing material for me.
Janga, there's nothing wrong with locking your doors when you're driving along. I lock mine as well. I'm too worried some idiot thug is going to think he's tough and hijack my car.
You're not a fraidy cat. You're just cautious. :)
MM, I've always wondered if dying is like sleeping too long and you just never realize you're not waking up.
Although, I don't relish the idea of any of us falling into the oblivion.
Q, it's hard to ignore anything you write dear. I'd keep you safe in the dark. *wg*
I grew up in the remote country side as well. When you live out there, coyotes and bobcats and mountain lions stalk you in the dark. And our coyotes are those mangy looking rats that live in the west. Ours are well fed killing machines. LOL
So no worries love. You walk in the dark with me and nothing will gobble you up.
I'm not in touch with reality often enough to realize when I'm losing touch with it. You can't tell me when you're working a theory that you don't temporarly lose touch with reality and fall into the world of physics.
Work with me here.
I don't know about Cin being vulnerable sensitive soul. She's lost touch with her humanity. When she comes into the human world, she starts to realize that not everything is just black and soulless. It's been a weird journey so far.
I have to admit that I've yet to read JK's Immortals. I really regret to say that. I can't read when I'm trying to write. My brain works in weird ways. JK, I swear, you're at the top of my TBR pile, which is currently buried under mountains of papers and work. :( I've heard such great things about her book that it kills me I haven't read it. But if my scene setting reminds you of that, I must rethink it.
Hal, I think maybe your babysitter was possessed.
Muldane dreams make it easier to get more rest. When I dream about different worlds and fighting and feeling emotion, I'm not resting. It's a constant wave of activity. And after a while, even dreams can drain you.
Marn! I can't wait for Jessica Andersen. Hopefully by then I'll read the second book and know what to talk about. LOL
I have to say the only time I've ever been scared while reading a book was reading about the Omega in JR Ward's earlier BDB books. I can't remember whose book it was in though. Gave me shivers.
And I hate spiders. Ugh. I don't even like to step on them.
Hells, funeral homes creep me out too. To me, when I walk in a funeral home, it's like I can feel death hovering around me. Like I can feel souls wanting to leave but they have to hang out there until they are laid to rest. Not to mention the souls that refuse to leave.
Ter, I was the one who got punched. I don't k now if my subconscience was trying to wake me up or what, but I missed parts of it at the end. I have no idea what happened to her. If she short circuited or if it was a part of a deal they reached or what. It was really strange. But I know who he was. He is bad.
I had terrible nightmares as a kid too. It's the whole overactive imagination thing. See, even then you had a good imagination and with all good imaginations, characters will come to you in dreams. You just have to be patient.
Lis, I have to have my covers tucked into the end of the bed. I know what's under my bed but if my foot was sticking out and someone grabbed it, I'd die.
Honestly, I don't know what would be worse, to just disappear or to know you are disappearing. Creepies movie I ever saw was some foreign made film...beautiful woman is swept away by handsome guy. Goes on honeymoon to meet his family, where she is constantly being scared and terrorized. Very creepy family. With this ancient crone mom... They get her scared enough and they strap her to a table and transplant her brain with the mom's. Some sort of psycho science where the adrenaline of fear makes it possible? And she's conscious the whole time! As they steal her life from her and she wakes up in the ancient crone's body, watching her body, now inhabited by the Mom! Married to handsome man...
Uber creepy! I cannot think of anything creepier! And I found the original Blob movie terrifying as a kid.
That is quite possibly the weirdest thing I've ever heard, MM. LOL
Sin - Oh, he punched YOU? Gosh, if that happened to me I'd be scared to death to go to sleep. LOL!
You often hear people say they'd like to die in their sleep, go peacefully, but who knows for sure that's peaceful either? I prefer to just stay alive.
uh, yeah, the babysitter was psycho. As in, should have been locked up somewhere far away from unsuspecting children, psycho. Took my parents a year to figure it out and stop sending us, and by then I was scarred :)
Funeral homes creep me out too. But cemeteries don't - which is good since our house backs up to one. Ter, I'm like you - I walk the dog through the cemetery most afternoons. Is it creepy to admit that I use the tombstones to find last names for my characters? Eek!
Well, can you imagine if they have dreams like me? I can't imagine that would be peacefully. My dreams get really violent. I wonder if that means when I get older that I'll die in my sleep from a heartattack.
My bff in elementary school, her father died in his sleep. It was really strange because he wasn't very old. But I always thought it might be because of drugs.
Hal - I love to read old stones. And I think that's a great way to get names. I always liked reading the dates and figuring out their ages at death then wondering about their lives. I guess I was imagining stories and didn't even realize it!
There's a line in a Garth Brooks song called Pushing Up Daisies that goes
"There's two dates in time that they'll carve On your stone
And everyone knows what they mean
What's more iportant is the time that is known
In that little dash there in between"
That's where the stories are. :)
the little dash in between - I love that. Your whole life summed up in one little dash mark.
I do the same thing - imagine stories and pasts for people *g*
Hal, I've never thought about going to a cemetary for last names. I don't live near one (don't think I'd like to either) but I can't imagine that being a bad idea. I bet you get a lot of ideas walking through there.
Since I'm Irish Catholic and have spent more of my life in funeral homes than I'd like to admit, they don't scare me at all. In fact, I think of funeral homes as just another place to get together and visit (albeit with a dead body in the room, but hey what can I say... it's how I was brought up). The DH swears my whole family is whacked. When my MIL died I sat with her a lot towards the end and at the funeral as I was speaking fondly of her to my kids I held her hand - totally freaked out some of the relatives.
The way I look at it is that since I grew up being so freaked out and scared of almost everything else out there, God gave me a pass on the whole being scared of death thing.
When I was a kid being abandoned was one of my biggest fears. I was always afraid someone was going to forget me somewhere. I was very focused on pick-up times. I would show up in my brother's classroom every day 30 minutes before school was to let out and ask him if he remembered he had to wait for me after school. His reply as he was slinking down in his seat while his classmates snickered - "I remembered yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that and every stinking day this school year. Now can you please stop showing up here every day to remind me!!"
Ter - isn't there a famous poem about the dash in a person's life? It's really ringing bells with me. It could be the Garth Brooks song but I don't really listen to him.
Irish - That might be part of my problem, from the time I was 5 until I was in college, no one I knew died. Or at least no one I knew well enough that I'd go to their funeral. I'm thinking exposure to things take away the mystery so that makes sense. But you held her hand? That gives me goosebumps.
I was also going to say I'm kind of in the same boat as Janga as far as Romantic Suspense goes (and sometimes paranormal). Some of that stuff creeps me out and I have nightmares. Especially if it deals with harming children. I can't handle that.
Someone told me once that once a visual is in your head there's no getting it out. And to be quite honest there are just some visuals I don't want to keep replaying over and over again for the rest of my life!
Irish - I'm positive Garth (or that songwriter) wasn't the first to think of it. LOL! But I'm not the person to ask about poetry. We'll have to see if Hellie or Janga or J Perry or Marn has a clue. The English Majors you know....
Yeah, it's funny, Ter, cause being as neurotic as I tend to be about most things, death has never really freaked me out that much. But it's like you said - I think early and continuous exposure probably took away all the fear. Wakes and funerals were kind of like big parties when I was growing up. Plus, my mom and dad always took us to the wakes of really old people that we didn't know real well, so it wasn't really a sad thing. When we eventually had to go to our grandma's wake it wasn't such a shock.
That last sentence totally didn't sound right. What I meant to ask, and how I meant to ask it was: "Did anyone ever forget you? Regardless of you reminding them eighty million times about you?"
Irish, there are some things that I just don't want to replay over and over again either. Things get in my head that I have no idea how they got there. As a rule I don't watch gore fics because that stuff sticks with me and shows up at the worst possible times.
I think a lot of people are freaked out about death and the dead. It's a hard concept to understand and kids tend to pick up the tendencies of those they watch in funerals and wakes.
Did you ever get forgotten anywhere?
See, Irish, I'm opposite. I've spent so much time at funeral homes, I'm just tired of being surrounded by death. I feel like everyone is kicking off every five minutes. And we don't exactly have anything to balance it out, like weddings, in other people's families. Just a long string of funerals. And the occasional family reunion, which has the feel of a funeral.
MM: the creepy movie you told, was the young handsome guy--was that the old crone's husband then? *LOL* Did they do a brain transplant for him first, then he went out to "farm" for the replacement body of his true love? That's creepy--and yet almost rather sweet. You can almost hear the argument.
Him: Okay, I'm going now. I'll be right back with her.
Her: Okay, but don't get someone too pretty.
Him: Too pretty?
Her: Prettier than I was at that age.
Him: Of course not darling.
Her: Well, I don't want her to be ugly though. And no one with a weight problem. If you can find someone with a narrower waist, I wouldn't say no.
Him: Sure, no problem.
Her: But I don't want anyone with really big boobs. I know how you are. I mean, try to stay within the realm of reality here.
Him: Right, because brain transplants in a horror film are real.
Her: Exactly.
And I wouldn't be able to watch that movie. I have too much belief in the soul--and you can't exactly TRANSPLANT that, in my opinion; and though I realize the brain runs everything, I think some memory is in fingertips...and skin and other places where the brain isn't. How do you transplant that?
I bet the conversation they had before she found HIS replacement went more like...
Him: Just find a guy with a really big-
Her: We're both on the same page, darling, no worries.
There's NO WAY I could have watched that movie. But the movie I did watch that has never stopped haunting me is An Eye For An Eye with Sally Field. Keifer Sutherland plays this really evil guy that does horrilbe things to her daughter in the beginning and the entire time she's on the phone with her and can hear her screaming. That scene is SO disturbing I can't even think about it without getting a little woozy.
As a matter of fact, Sin, when I got into high school I decided to look into a lot of my fears. Took Psych 101 and read up on a lot of emotional issues I was dealing with, etc. etc. Turns out after a little interview with my mom, I was very sick when I was 9 months old and had to stay in the hospital for about a week. Parenting and the culture of the time being what is was - my parents just sort of left me there and visited very infrequently. Then there were the occassional "Would someone come to the customer service desk and claim this little lost girl". That happened more often than my poor mother would like to admit. I was also 1 of 7 children and just kind of got lost in the suffle quite a few times.
It's very interesting how most fears have a very real basis. I know my kids probably have some very real fears based on their life experiences but I can promise you abandonment isn't one of them. :)
I've driven past the daycare a time or two but never gotten more than a few hundred yards before I realized I missed the turn. And kiddo doesn't know about those incidents. :)
When I was 5 my mom & aunt put me into modeling in pageants and then when I was 9 I was pegged to be a narrator for our school Christmas program which meant staying on stage for the entire show and reading the stuff that linked the different class performances. My guess is this stuff is why I have no problem speaking in front of crowds. I just never knew anything different.
My mom did lose me in the mall once, but I think I felt more like *I* got lost. Which might be why I get serious road rage now if I ever realize I'm lost.
Yeah, Hellion, I could totally see it going the other way. My mom had a really good friend growing up who was totally scarred by the whole wake/funeral thing. Her mother died when she was like 8 or 9 and they held wakes in their homes at that time. Her father made her sit in the front row - full view of the casket with her mother in it - during the entire wake, which could have lasted days if my memory serves me correctly. She was one of my moms only friends who very rarely attended wakes/funerals and if she did show up she never went up to the casket.
Okay, Ter, that Sally Field movie is the exact visual I wouldn't want to live with. Those types of movies/books totally wig me out.
The forgetting the kid in the mall/store happened a lot when I was a kid, but that was before the whole kidnapping thing was rampant. I think parents nowadays are little more cautious.
When my daughter was about 2 we went shopping at Kohls with my mother. My daughter decided to hide in one of the clothes racks. I stood in the middle of Kohls screaming her name and when she came out all red-faced and embarrassed I screamed even louder (with tears streaming down my face) at her to never, ever do that again. I went a little hysterical and my mom had to bring me back down to earth. My daughter (and son) never left my side while out shopping when they were really little and even now always tell me where they are going and check in if we're in a mall. It's one of our big rules that has never been broken by either of them.
Irish - Same thing happened with my kiddo. She must have been maybe 2 or 3 and just walked around the end of the aisle in Wally World. I went around to get her and NOTHING. GONE! I freaked for what I'm sure was only 15 seconds tops until I found her a few feet away, but that child learned a lesson she has never forgotten! GAH!!!!
I still don't let her wonder around without me. Maybe a few rows but there's no "I'm going to the toy department while you get the groceries." NO SIRREE MA'AM!
Hel! Terrio! I love it! Suddenly the movie isn't as creepy as I remember it... And it was a really bad movie. One of those cheaply made, bad dialogue, bad sound...but wow, it carried a punch because of the idea... Until now.
Now, I keep thinking about the whole 'shopping for a replacement' thing!
Thank you!
I don't know if dying in your sleep is peaceful. I suppose, if I had finished dying, instead of just getting started with it, I'd know. But then I wouldn't know I knew...would I? ;)
Waking up after almost dying is actually pretty peaceful...due to all the drugs... It only got terribly scary later. Had a hard time going to sleep for weeks, until I got my ICD. And my DH? Man, thought he'd never be able to sleep again without starting awake everytime I snored... Until the ICD... It watches over me now.
Alright Miss Acronym, what is ICD? I mean, I know what it does from the context of what you're talking about, but what do the letters stand for?
Glad we could fix that bad movie memory for you. :) And I'm sure if you'd finished you'd know you know, but then we wouldn't know you so we're very glad you didn't finish.
We always had to keep a hand on the cart and the other hand at our side. You could kiss the store goodbye if you touched anything. NOW I touch EVERYTHING! Drives my daddy insane when he goes to the store with me at Christmas.
"Why are you touching that? Stop touching that!"
Me: "I do what I want. I'd touch this whole store if I wanted too and you can't do nothing about it."
I have a touching complex.
I also have a hugging complex that my SIL and MIL refuse to regard.
Interio Cardio Defibrillator. It is about the size of an old fashioned cigarette lighter. It has leads down into my heart from where it is sitting, above my left boob, under the skin. Yes, I can feel it. Yes, it can be seen if you know what to look for. Yes, it bugs me sometimes. No, it doesn't inhibit my movement or exercise. But it will set off airport metal detectors! I get the personal touch now...
So, if me heart goes all a'twitter ta the point of stopping...it kicks it inta gear again. It has gone off, (false alarm), and it feels like an inside sonic boom. Startles the hell out a' me...and shocked the DH who was waltzing wit' me at the time!
*LOL* I'm just imagining Sin touching everything in a store. *LOL* Then hearing her father say: "Now, that's about enough of that" in his Johnny Cash voice.
My child has a touching complex as well. She looks with her fingers. Makes. Me. CRAZY!!! And she always says, "But I was only looking." If I had a dime for everytime I've said "You look with your eyes not with your fingers!" I could buy Warren Buffet.
Now the song Waltzing Matilda is stuck in my head except it's Waltzing Maureen. LOL! I'm glad you've got some technology that keeps you going!
LOL. We're a crazy bunch. That's the only thing I've gotten from all the conversation today.
Remind me not to waltz to MM. No offense babe. My hair already sticks up on it's own accord.
I had a date once with a guy who looked with his fingers...
Can we not perv a bit about my sweet little girl shopping by touch to *that*? LOL! Thanks ever so much.
Sin - Are you just figuring that out? I have a feeling if I was ever sitting next to Chance when that thing went off, I'd need to be brought back myself. And change my britches.
Don't you want your daughter and her potential date to have anything in common? I mean, this might be how they bond? No pun intended.
Ah, come on! Ya lilly livered pirates! Ya can dance wit' me... It don't hurt! If'n a start ta twitch and don't stop...then we call the medics... Damn thing can fire off 'til the battr'y runs out if'n it breaks. (Very low chance a' that...still!)
Be adventurous! Dance wit' me!
Hehehe... You might not want me to dance with you.
If'n ya gets me heart beating too fast... It will zap ya. I ain't worried!
Oooohhhh 2nd Chance … I agree with SIN. You probably would NOT Want to dance with Her. Not if she has a Touching Complex...
You: “Why are you touching that? Stop touching that!”
Her: “I do what I want. I’d touch this whole store if I wanted too and you can’t do nothing about it.”
Serious Mode:
Am I creeped out by the darkness? No. I am at home in the darkness as much as I am in the light of day.
I get restless when a storm is coming. My husband thinks that I get that way because I am frightened of them. But I’m not. I was almost hit by a bolt of lightning when I was walking home from kindergarten. I remember hearing a loud, sharp “crack’ , like a cannon being shot off next to me. Then I was surrounded by violet light. And the smell of electricity. To this day I am exhilarated by storms … high winds … thunder …. Lightning bolts. Tornadoes however are a different story….
I don’t like dead animals. But Dead people don’t creep my out. I am, however very choosy about placing any of those dead peoples past possessions in my home. Some things have a bad vibe to them, if you know what I mean.
My Death doesn’t scare me. What scares me is Not being at the right place … at the wrong time. That Wrong Moment when something bad happens. I want to be at that Someplace when I am needed. Like if someone needs CPR … or the Heimlich maneuver … or somebody needs someone to talk to. Not being there for the Wrong moments. That scares me. More than anything.
That scares me… scared me …. Enough to bring me back from my own Wrong Moment.
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