FEAR OF THE DARK | Bryce Hamaway

At five years old the fears of the mind are trivial, having your toys taken away or, perhaps, a paper cut. For me, the dark filled this role. Unable to see, my juvenile mind created endless possibilities. Was that an evil doll in the corner of my room? I was always told how creative I was. But in the dark, creativity was a curse. The blackness itself was never what I was afraid of. The darkness fused all my other fears together. By simply thinking of something, the dark could become it. If I was afraid of snakes, every sound became a hiss. My fear exposed itself in the basement of my home. I stayed down there all day, playing Ping Pong and Air Hockey. Getting down there caused problems however. At night we keep the lights off and, in the morning, I go down to turn them on. Unfortunately for me, the lights were not next to the door. They were across the room. I tiptoed around, so as to not disturb the demons. I fell to my knees when I heard a sound, imagining ghosts above me. Every once and awhile, I would whisper threats, “I have garlic,” or, “don’t make me use this silver bullet.” Every time, I would find my way there after what seemed like an eternity. I was aware I could not live my life in everlasting fear, but did not know how to get over it either. Luckily for me, I had an unlucky experience to move me along. It happened on a family camping trip. Our fire dwindled, and I was selected by the committee - consisting of only my brother - to wander out into the woods alone to collect wood for the fire. Leaving the campsite, I thought it would be a good opportunity to confront my fear. I would soon regret everything. Turning back, burdened by the wood haul, I realized the dark obscured my route back. The warmth of the fire was gone. The safety of camp. The sounds of laughter from my family. They all seemed like a distant memory. Darkness surrounded me, a cold, black darkness that made my voice disappear. Not even crickets sang. My ears rang in the silence. I could smell the greenery around me. Branches blocked the light of the moon. This was untamed darkness. Darkness that gripped around my neck and breathed through me. Darkness that was not blunted by the protection of my house.

My mind immediately raced with all the possibilities: clowns, ghosts, snakes, Frankenstein’s monster, chupacabras, a new monster I created called the glushanflacendorf. They surrounded me.

I knew it. And yet, I stood there. They never attacked. They never appeared before me. They never came. Something else did. Something wonderful. 12