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"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"- H.P Lorocraft
Fear. Its that one thing that builds up great empires; and then causes them to crumble. Its what create brave men; and then brings them to their destruction. Its what drives and motivates living organisms to thrive and survive; then pushes them to end lives and kill.
I've always thought I've known fear. Thought I've discovered, faced and conquered said thing over and over. Like a cycle or a rollercoaster. A very messed up and terrifying rollercoaster.
But I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.
Fear isn't being scared of clowns because they look creepy. Fear isn't being too frightened to be out by yourself alone because of all of the possibilities of something bad happening. Fear isn't the common phobias we know of like fear of water, spiders, snakes, lizards, the movies, germs, or just plain being scared.
And fear definitely is not being terrified of sleeping in the dark, all alone, with all of your figmental monsters under the bed, or in the closet, or just somewhere in your room.
No!
That is not fear.
Fear is being so terrified that your life seems to pass by your eyes in a flash; Fear is being so horrified that time seems to slow down and you start to accept what your afraid of; Fear is being so petrified, that your brain is unable to process what is happening, your body freezes and refuses to take any form of movement or action, and you begin to accept the finality that you are going to die.
That is what fear is.
Fear is a monster that eats up your soul and refuses to give you hope. It devours the light that burns deep within, and replaces it with reality.
And the reality of the matter is...
We're trapped.
We're locked away within the deepest crevices of God knows where; the girls either missing or and dead; and the boys being complete dickheads in accepting the truth.
If they had just listened to me, we could've figured things out. We could've maybe find an escape out of this mess they got us in. And I would've had lunch. Not die on an empty stomach. What a stupid way to go.
'I wonder if I finished that book?', "oh wonderful Tora. Magnificent last words", Tora scowled at herself, sarcasm oozing out of every syllable.
She looked up. Terrified of the monster that's about to make its way in that long white hall. Trying to convince herself that whatever she's seeing, whatever she thinks she's believing, isn't real. Yet doubting every letter of every word that crosses her minds eye.
Putting on a brave font would be useless when your scared to the point of wetting yourself, and there's no one there to impress.
The scratching sound on the wall has her cowering in fear. A sight to behold. If Jim could see me now. I'm sure his laughter would resemble that of a hyena.
She trembled uncontrollably. And honestly, this time its not out of fear, but the complete and utter disgust and disappointment of her pathetic self. 'What the heck am I doing? I'm Tora-freaking-Trailer for fucks sake! I don't get terrified I make people terrified'.
But that is not a person Tora. That's a monstrosity unto man. That cowardice little bitch in her head starts to reason.
Then suddenly, a high pitched shriek is heard. The sound so deafening it could make ears bleed. The glass' in the hall shatters, making her scream and jump in fright.
Her heart pounds erratically. The beat reverberating throughout her body.
Burning in anticipation.
Her mind trying to fathom what is happening; what could be causing these sudden changes of her character.
The thud thud thud of some moving entity coming towards her.
And all of a sudden the hall seems too short.
The long narrow stretch of the white pathway hall that gave her the tiniest hope of finding the staircase to end this nightmare, shattered into a million pieces like the glass that wasn't there before.
Her dreams and future plans; gone. The teachers that she couldn't give a shit about; missed. The endless days of high school and annoying students; longed for.
And as the creature sleeks up to her, its putrid breath in her face. Its horridly shaped and deformed body taking up the space of the hall, blocking her means of escape. One single thought runs through her mind:
Fuck! This is all Venice's fault!
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Nuttyweird leaves this: A story may seem like the end based on the ending, but the ending of the story may not be the end, based on the beginning