Sometimes
I wonder if my overactive imagination might border on schizophrenia. I
love reading scary stories, but my adrenaline-addicted brain always
takes it a bit too far after and paints nightmares across the shadows of
my home just to give me a little panic attack whenever I feel alone and
vulnerable.
For example, I'll occasionally have to take my dog outside very late at night. It would be easy to stick to the mostly-lit parking lot between the buildings of my apartment complex, but he just won't do his thing quickly unless I take him out back. Each apartment has its own privacy fence around a small patio, complete with a crummy, unsecured gate that blows open in the slightest wind. Past that is a twenty-foot stretch of grass backing up to a strip of woods climbing the ridge to the road a short distance away. Back there, it's moonlight or nothing unless someone's left their back porch light on overnight.
Traveling the straight shot behind our row of apartment buildings is usually enough to get his business done and get back inside without too much trouble... Provided my brain cooperates. But the wind rustling the branches of the trees is just enough cover to imagine all sorts of terrifying creaks and groans from the woods, and the swinging gates and trees littering the yard provide a dozen places for shadows to gather and hide, just waiting for me to wander too close...
Of course I tell myself it's all in my head. My brain sees shapes moving in the darkness, or a claw curling around the bark of one of the trees just before creeping out of sight. The jolt of fear sends my heart racing, but I can usually power past the shadows and ignore them.
And my dog? Well, I hate having to tug him along by his leash all the time, but I can't let the shadows know he sees them either.
For example, I'll occasionally have to take my dog outside very late at night. It would be easy to stick to the mostly-lit parking lot between the buildings of my apartment complex, but he just won't do his thing quickly unless I take him out back. Each apartment has its own privacy fence around a small patio, complete with a crummy, unsecured gate that blows open in the slightest wind. Past that is a twenty-foot stretch of grass backing up to a strip of woods climbing the ridge to the road a short distance away. Back there, it's moonlight or nothing unless someone's left their back porch light on overnight.
Traveling the straight shot behind our row of apartment buildings is usually enough to get his business done and get back inside without too much trouble... Provided my brain cooperates. But the wind rustling the branches of the trees is just enough cover to imagine all sorts of terrifying creaks and groans from the woods, and the swinging gates and trees littering the yard provide a dozen places for shadows to gather and hide, just waiting for me to wander too close...
Of course I tell myself it's all in my head. My brain sees shapes moving in the darkness, or a claw curling around the bark of one of the trees just before creeping out of sight. The jolt of fear sends my heart racing, but I can usually power past the shadows and ignore them.
And my dog? Well, I hate having to tug him along by his leash all the time, but I can't let the shadows know he sees them either.
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