Tag Archives: Fear

GUEST POST // My Forest by Purple Creature

Walking in my forest, huge trees are blocking the light,
I am walking, and now cannot see.
I hear creatures stirring on the forest floor,
Crawling over my feet, hissing in my ear, they are all around me,
I fucking fear…

My heart is racing, my fear is growing,
I want to run, so fast, I can’t think straight,
I want to leave this God forsaken place, as fast as I can.
I am alone, I am bruised and battered, I cannot win this fight.
I have done this to myself, for I have walked into the forest willingly,
Knowing what the forest beholds…

Ego… self-righteousness, false confidence,
call it what the Fuck you want,
I am here now, me, in the darkness, in the forest…
Dealing with it… badly.
More creatures, of all shapes and sizes are coming out.
Noises are getting louder, hisses, are getting louder…
The forest is alive I realize, a breathing, living being of blackness,
Tears are its food, Fear is its oxygen.

Then, in the distance, I see a faint light, fluttering in the forest.
It’s waiting for me, calling for me, like a beacon in the night…
Has it always been here… Have I just been blinded by my despair,
That I haven’t seen what has been in front of me, all this time…
I concentrate on the light, and follow it through the forest,
ignoring all else…
It’s just me and the light…
Before I know it, I am out of the forest and into the light,
with cascading waterfalls,
And beautiful flowers and colors everywhere…

The light, I realized, is the most beautiful, colorful, exotic,
butterfly I have ever seen,
The butterfly gazed at me one last time, smiled, winked at me,
and flew away, into the sky.

A single tear formed in my eye, and over flowed down my cheek.
Thank you, sweet butterfly,
For waiting for me,
For staying with me,
For guiding me out of my despair… out of my forest.

by PURPLE CREATURE
© All rights reserved 2015

my Chilperic (Fragment #022)

The summer was over… Henry went to Cardiff and I got back to my tasks in the Federal Museum. It’s not a gainful place. De facto, I’m a volunteer. But I really love this work. And, of course, I do get some benefits from my work.Who am I? I’m a curator of a few departments there, including the department of my own species. It lets me correct the records with some facts and fables about us. People like to hunt for our heads. My corrections help save lives… and to have a little fun. It was I who invented the legend that we like to dance on tiptoe and cannot understand jokes about Stierlitz… Of course, it was just out of my childishness, and I cannot honestly affirm that it’s very useful information. But that shouldn’t make you think that I’m just a foolish young wag at heart… I’m a scientist after all! I’ve made some important corrections as well.

For example, I changed ‘Trypophobia’ to ‘Metrophobia’ in all of our medical records. Oh! Sometimes I can even surprise myself! By the way, it’s of no use trying to convince someone that a fear of subways isn’t ‘Metrophobia’… I personally just prefer taking the shortest routes. I grab such unconvinced ignoramuses by their collars and invite them to take a little ride on the roof of the carriage with me so I can teach them what a TRUE fear of subways is! And I’m glad to have such opportune days. But days when I meet with people who truly know what ‘Metrophobia’ means… I’m not so glad… I’m happy!

What can be better than killing accompanying poetry? It’s an elusive sensitivity… a vivid and exciting feeling! They hope to make me weaker… they are perplexed… they cannot understand why I mock. I have heard plenty of poems… by many poets… in various languages… Some poems I bestow the stubborn ears of know-it-all jackasses, to listen to until the end of the line. Some poems I snub abruptly, cutting them down in the middle of their first lines. Anyway, nothing could change the final act of these little poetic theater performances. But one day, I thought I would have another happy ending’s poetic justice when something unexpected happened.

He was declaiming ‘The Word’ by Gumilev. He had an ill-affecting accent. My wall of defense fell. I wasn’t able to kill it with my fiery brand of poetry… I have burned out his memory. I gave him a fiery brand new name. I created him anew from scratch. My forum of conscience…

My Chilperic. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for grammar corrections and improvement this essay!

the Alabai

…I am still keeping this old dog collar. Why not? I always was a sentimental person. It is not just an old threadbare piece of a leather. It is my first dog collar.

I was afraid of dogs in my childhood, was afraid up to tantrums, up to fainting. And one day my father brought home a huge dog. It was an alabai. My father said that we should become friends with this dog. It would help me to get rid of my fear. And he handed a leash to me. I do not know from where my father borrowed this dog. But they were both calm…

We were walking side by side. I and my great fear. I was not breathing. An attempt to escape would have been equal to suicide, so I preferred this way. Yes, I was little and silly then. I was not able to make another decision…

I stumbled after few meters. I lost my flip flops and hurt my foot. I was lying on the road and not even crying… I was waiting for my death. And it jumped on me like a huge alabai.

Its tongue was cold and its breathing was hot. And my naked legs were absolutely defenseless… Cold and heat were drawing wide, wet stripes on my feet. Every stripe brought fear. Every stripe was bringing pleasure. And fear. A fear that precisely this stripe would be the last. The last one before pain. And it lasted indefinitely… I guess that was my first erotic experience.

I am not afraid of dogs now. But since then I wear shoes with laces. Always. Because I cannot lose them until a time I no longer want this.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014