Halloween Special

20:09, 2 November 2018

The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor.

 

Fear and terror, nightmare and dismay. Horror, HORROR!

 

The secret one, the one that makes you huddle under a blanket, shaking like a small kid, and pull your pet closer, all to drive your childhood fears away.

Adult fears are not as easily dispelled compared to what comes from your formative years.

 

Mom’s little sunshine, it's high up there, mom is afraid ...

Every child grows up — and ends up fearing heights.

And a monster lives under the bed, and at night, when it is dark, he will come out and bite your ears off ...

Who among us still sleeps with the lights on?

Tall tales, words that went unnoticed at the time…that’s what gives birth to our fears Sometimes, we forget them, but they are still there — alive, hiding deep inside of us, and sooner or later...

 

My childhood fears appeared randomly as well.

Darkness? Monster? Height? Loneliness? Doctors, especially (to the unlucky ones) dentists?

For me, all those fears seemed illogical. For me, the scariest things were fictional.

When your child turns seven, would you read them fairy tales?

No, an entire library of adventures, presented by loving parents! Beloved stories: Sherlock Holmes, The Hound of the Baskervilles, which little Lina managed to read, picture in her imagination, and get seriously frightened by.

She kept looking for a dog under her bed. She did not sleep for a few nights. She could not look at the picture of that very same dog...

I cannot say that I am still afraid of the Hound, but when I am asked about fears, this is it. That very thing I fear.

 

 

 

 

 

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