Fear Of The Unknown: A Narrative Fiction

I’ve always had a fear of the unknown, especially when I was younger. I don’t own a cork board with red string connecting twenty pinned pictures that must point to the existence of aliens in Area 51 or anything, but if I could’ve afforded it when I was younger, then I might’ve had one. Point is, if something was unexplained and possibly malevolent, then it had to be absolutely real and absolutely out to get Lyda Emily Hill McComber. Back then, the slightest move of the shadows or a tap to the window in the night meant I had to start writing my will then and there because obviously my body was never going to be found come morning. I only really told Mel, my older sibling, about my fear of what might’ve been in the dark (which come to think of it, was probably part of the problem in the first place) and she only made fun of me. Afterwards, I never told anyone that I thought the Jersey Devil was ready at any moment to move in under my bed and eat me like a Christmas Turkey. Like the chained men in Plato’s cave, I had been left to stew in my imagination with no grasp of the realities around me. …show more content…
The house itself was fine, but I couldn’t ever be in my room for more than five minutes without getting nervous. I always felt as if I was being watched, and there was always a tapping noise whenever the room got colder than usual, which was often. I was positive my room was haunted, and my asthma and bizarre dreams when I went to sleep only furthered my reasoning that something wanted me gone. Mel eventually got tired of my compulsive need to stay out of my room, and one day sat me down and told me what was what. I tried to argue my points, but most of them were shot down quickly. Mel said the cold and the tapping was just the air conditioner expanding and crackling and my asthma was triggered by all the cat hair and dust in my room. I was