An extreme fear or avoidance of a certain object or situation. Classified as a type of anxiety disorder. Often recognized as being irrational or abnormal.
This is what you probably see in encyclopedias and dictionaries and whatnot. We generally assume that this is the correct definition, but is it really? Have you ever asked yourself, ‘Is this the truth? Is this what they really are? Is there something more to it?’
Ask one of us what phobias are, and you’ll get a bit of a different answer. Possibly along the lines of “living and breathing monsters that feed off of your emotions and won’t stop until you’re completely insane or dead. We know this from experience, so don‘t question us.”
We’re not saying you’re wrong. We’re just saying that you obviously left out a few crucial points.
This is FLATMATES.
---
(M)
"Uh...mister?"
Desmond shook himself out of his thoughts. “O-oh, sorry, I got… distracted," He fiddled around with some of his papers. "You were saying?”
"Just that... if you're looking for a flat, I know about one-
"How did you know I was looking for a flat?"
"...You told us before you started the lecture"
Desmond stared blankly for a moment. "Oh, right" He looked down at his papers again. Must have forgotten.
"...Right…yeah, so I know about someone who owns a flat within walking distance from here," The student held out a piece of paper, which Desmond took and shoved into his coat pocket without much thought. "A friend recommended him to me when I was looking for one. Nice place, I suppose. Though the owner is sort of… weird, if you ask me."
“Hmm.”
“ ’Bit rude, too. Y’ know, when I called him, he-”
"Yes, thank you, I'll give him a call later, I suppose. Afternoon." Desmond hurried out of the lecture hall, with a million thoughts running around in his mind at once.
---
Desmond Forrest. 35 years old. From Cambridge, recently moved to London for…erm…personal safety. Psychology professor. Currently in a cab, driving to his crummy (and hopefully temporary) living quarters in that not-so-pleasant area of the city. Not that Desmond likes to associate pleasantness with London to begin with. A good person, although he tends to be forgetful and can easily get off topic. He can’t drive, simply because he doesn't know how to, although he always tells others that it’s because of his poor eyesight.
He watches the city lights flash outside his window, while trying to avoid awkward conversations with the cab driver.
Once he gets to his flat, he pays the cabbie, walks inside, and locks up the door. Takes off his shoes, hangs up his coat and bag, and then drags himself to his bed where he collapses, letting out a sigh of relief. He contemplates on what to do next.
Desmond was always busy. He had money to pay, lectures to organize, appointments to make. He had to finish unpacking his belongings. He had to go out and buy groceries. He had to call his parents, let him know that he’s okay, and that London is ‘nice’, and that no, that cough he had was not because he had lung cancer, he just picked up a virus from one of his colleagues. He needed to sleep. Desperately.
He decided to get up and make himself a cup of tea. He gives up when the electricity goes out for the third time that week alone.
He definitely needs to move out. And that’s when he remembers the number he was given.
Desmond rushed for the slip of paper and his mobile. On it, an almost illegible ‘Collin Jackson’ is scrawled on the top, along with a number and address. Desmond assumes that he is the owner. What did that student say about him again? Something about being nice? Or was it rude? No, Desmond is sure he said he was nice. Positive. He dials in the digits and waits.
The first sounds that Desmond makes out from the other end are an explosion, a screech, and a very angry American.
---
(A & M)
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" Collin screamed at the person on the other end of the line. He didn't care who it was, or what they wanted. Right now was not the fucking time.
Collin had fallen asleep on the couch while watching Supernatural, when out of no where this shadow phobia, that just doesn't know when to lie down and die, came back to try and eat his fear. Unfortunately for the shadow phobia, Collin wasn't afraid of it (Whatever it was). But it was a pain in the ass to get rid of. He pulled out this pen, which looked like it had gone through Dr. Frankenstein's saddest experiment in attempt to replicate human life, with wires sticking out all over the place, and clicked the end where the writing nib should have come out. Instead, a flash of green light came out, along with a high pitched buzzing sound.
Just then, the pen spat out a flash of green light at the shadow, which it dodged (barely), and came at Collin again. It screeched, Collin cursed.
“Oh, er, hi?” Rude. Not nice. Desmond made a mental note to start paying more attention. “I’m Desmond Forrest, and I’m calling about the flat. I was recommended by someone…uhh…is this a bad time?”
The shadow screeched at Collin loudly, and he couldn't make out a single word this person was saying. "NO!!!" He screamed. He spit the green shit out at the stupid thing again, hitting it on what could be called a shoulder. Screaming louder, it made a dash for Collin, knocking the wind out of him. "Oof-!"
“No? Alright, um, I was hoping I could actually get a tour before I make any decisions, if that’s alright with you. I just don’t want to…aha…you know, end up in a place I…hate…aha” Desmond desperately tried to sound like a good person, but he just made things more awkward. He didn't even think Collin was listening! “I already have your address. Would it be fine if I popped in tomorrow afternoon? Take a look around?”
Collin growled, "That’s it!" He cursed, and grabbed his pen with both hands, and zapped another green beam at the shadow. This time, the beam went right through the shadow's head- right in between the eyes. He grabbed something else off one of the side-tables beside the couch. An old flip phone, with wires sticking out of it also, and a masking-tape label that read: 'Portal Opener. DO NOT TOUCH.' He flipped it open, and pressed a sequence of buttons. After a few seconds, another green glow appeared on the end of the antenna, and a large portal opened out of it.
Collin then squirmed to get a hold of his pen, clicking it twice, then the green beam grabbed a hold of the shadow and he was able to move it through the air. He grinned, and flung it in the portal roughly. then pressed the 'END CALL' button and the portal shut.
"YES-!!" He hooted loudly, forgetting he was on the phone.
Desmond smiled widely. “Fantastic! Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you!” He disconnected, feeling very good about himself.
"Wait what?" Collin said to the beeping on the phone that was telling him that this person had just hung up. He had caught the last bit of the 'conversation', and slumped back onto the couch. Groaning, he rolled over and whined;
"Well, fuck me."
((Thank you so much for reading the first part to FLATMATES! If you liked what you read, go and click on that follow button, and stick around for part two!! ))
Have you ever been afraid? Imagine if your worst fear became a reality, that lived off of you and became stronger as you got more scared. Now imagine if you could never get away from it. What would you do? Who would you go to?
Well, that’s what we’re here for.
My name is Desmond Forrest. I am a university professor, and when I transferred from one school to another (for personal reasons), I met Collin Jackson, a lazy and unemployed jerk who does nothing but sit on his ass all day and act like an arrogant- ah, sorry, let me try this again.
I moved into his flat, and quickly found out that being afraid of something is just the beginning. Phobias - an extreme, irrational fear that only grows worse as time goes on. People tend to avoid these fears, pretend like they don't exist. In doing so, you create a monster. A real, living, monster. Literally. The more you try to fight it, the harder they try to get you.
And we’re here to stop them, before they can hurt you.
(( FLATMATES is a collaborative blog about the adventures of a psychology professor and a self-proclaimed phobia fighter. Feel free to ask or submit us something, it will be greatly appreciated! ))
This is not for profit, and any copyrighted material belongs to the respectful owners.
discoholicmusic
2087
snowghoul
stormborns
janainaart
gummygunk