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Монстры не спят
Fear Itself
Fear Itself is a handful of dust,
that every person breathes in and out when they're scared
When all that dust comes together,
it becomes clay for molding us
Fear Itself has no true form,
it can only look like what scares you
Fear Itself switches between Flight Mode and Fight Mode,
but sometimes the switch breaks,
and Fear Itself Freezes up
Fear Itself is easily manipulated
Fear Itself sometimes lashes out
Fear Itself can be irrational
Fear Itself can’t help but be scary
Fear Itself can control you
Fear Itself wants to protect you
Fear Itself is sometimes lonely
Fear Itself longs for a world where there’s nothing to be scared of
Fear Itself is worried about you
Fear Itself is scared about what can happen to you in the world
But Fear Itself is more scared of what could happen to the world if you’re not in it
(This poem is inspired by the Churchel quote, the T. S. Eliot poem, and the general idea of personifying emotions. I'm basically listing Fear's personality traits)
Prompt Me: The Letter
This is kinda a huge spoiler for a concept I’m working on, not to mention a huge trigger warning. I was looking through a magazine of writing prompts and this one was: “Write a letter to someone in your life who has passed away. You can tell that person the things you wish you’d said, the things that happened in the years since they’ve passed on, whatever you want. If you find this prompt too emotionally difficult, have a character from one of your stories write a letter to a person he or she has lost.”
This would be one of the final scenes from The People He Touched, if I ever actually get to writing it.
The People He Touched:.
NaNoWriMo will be here before I know it, so I'm trying to get inspiration. I have so many concepts running about in my head, but no voices are really speaking to me just yet.
One concept I've been really tinkering with is personification of emotion which I didn't realize Pixar had a similar idea for a 2015 movie, mainly with my character of Fear. The way I picture him is much different than the emotion- he wouldn't be a coward, or anything of the sort. He would be forceful, manipulative, protective. Very patient, as he knows that sooner or later he will take over. He enjoys tampering with the other emotions. He can take on many forms, but to many, Fear will take on the form of a fatherly figure.
His voice isn't speaking to me, at least not enough to understand. It's more of a mumble, a whisper. The victims are coming in, yet I can't see them completely, as if they are children in black in a badly lit room. I have the beginnings of stories in their points of view, some of the emotions that Fear tampered with. How do I string them together? Whose voice will prove to be the loudest?
"I'm not afraid of you!" The little one shouts, standing up straight with fists clenched.
"I would hope not." Fear says with a frown. "That would ruin everything."
Second Thoughts
I walk into the house after a long day at work. It’s around midnight, and everyone in the house is either asleep or outside. I throw my hat on the floor, flip the bathroom light on and brush my teeth while looking down. It’s just as I finish up when I hear a voice behind me. “You’re really going to move, huh?” The tone is amused, almost taunting, and I don’t need to look up to know who it is.
Quite a handsome man stands behind me. His ashen hair falls to mid back in a messy ponytail, and darke green eyes glint behind thin framed glasses. He stands at 5 feet and 6 inches, a little taller than myself, in black denim and a red satin vest. I glance up at him through the mirror and see his arms playfully crossed, the hint of a smile on his face while his eyes are serious. I don’t show emotion, I cannot show emotion to this man. I reach for m ponytail and tighten it. “I am.”
He nods once, then shifts his weight so he’s leaning slightly backwards. “I’m surprised. You might have reasons, understandable reasons for wanting to return home, yet your dad didn’t seem to have an answer for you, did he?” He saunters over and puts his right hand on my shoulder. “What if he doesn’t say yes?” His hand slides down to my chest, and my breathing staggers. I look into his eyes through the mirror.
"He will say yes. There’s not a doubt in my mind." I boldly say. A light chuckle escapes his throat and his eyes glow with amusement, yet he doesn’t move. His arm dangles over me, his torso ever so slightly brushing up against my back. He thinks for a moment before he speaks again.
"Let’s say he does say yes, and you leave your boyfriend behind. He’d be devastated, no? Enough to be unfaithful to you in your long distance relationship. Or perhaps.." His voice gets silkier, almost feminine. "You will be the one to find someone new. To break ties." He goes to kiss my neck and I move my hand just in time to where his lips kiss my middle finger. He frowns, and I remain strong. I will not let him trick me again. I can stare him in the face and not be pulled in. And so I turn to face him, despite the pace of my heart and the slight risk I take. He tries one more tactic.
"If perhaps you do break ties, whether it be due to another lover or not being able to handle being apart for so long, it would be a shame. Everything you sacrificed for him would mean nothing. Everything that you worked for would mean nothing. You would have wasted three whole years of your life." I bite my cheek to hold back retaliation and look away. He trails his finger along my stomach and up to my chin, tilting my face so our eyes met. "You would have to start all over because you have to and not because you want to. You would fall to pieces." As he says this his lips inch closer to mine, and at the very last word they meet. My mouth willingly opens to let him in, to taste and to torture and to give in as he planned. He holds me way too close and way too rough. As the kiss breaks he gives me an accomplished grin. "It would be best to think about this more, my dear. Let me linger for a few nights before you decide, hm?"
I am defeated. With a sigh, I let him take my shirt off and lead me to the bed. We lie on our left sides, pressed together with legs entwined. He kisses my cheek and in my lover’s voice, says “goodnight”.
"Goodnight, Fear."
You're In Poetic Purgatory: Fear Personified
Not Particularly living up to his name,
Fear stands with open arms,
Welcoming me with a smile.
He is Handsome.
Standing tall with no suspicious qualities;
Beautiful eyes carry no emotion,
Crimson orbs, fiery yet tranquil.
He is Kind.
Like the boyfriend you've always wanted,
He will embrace you with warmth,
Completely faithful in your name.
He is perfect.
And yet, he is what flaws mankind.
Stalking your mind, making you wish
you could walk away from his embrace.
He is persistent.
Making you hesitate with decisions,
Closing your mouth before you can speak,
Making your eyes surge with eerie anticipation.
He is aggressive.
Knocking you over with ominous thoughts,
Choking you, restraining your voice.
Shackling you, turning you powerless.
He isn't real.
Conjured up by outside voices,
By your own nature, and though you know that,
he is more real than any person.
He is Fear.
And he will consume you.
Authors note: A friend asked me to write a poem about fear. A little over 2 years later, I finally got the inspiration for it.Critiques appreciated.
