A Personal essay

[Blaze]

Hello, quick note before you read. Can any one and everyone who reads this give me tips and advice? I'm entering the  into a contest and want the best odds. Please be 100% honest, my feelings Wong get hurt! Thanks!

[Blaze]

I have always been found of a little scare here and there. The best of us do. It's just a way of life.

It's how our bodies are set up. It's how we live. With out fear, there would not be joy, or love, or

happiness. Without fear we would be a plain species. We would be out of control. Fear keeps us in

check. It keeps everyone from killing the other. It keeps people from jumping off of a plane, or cliff

without anything to save them. Of course, there are a few who do not experience fear in a good way. I

blame that default for all the murders and suicides we see today. Fear is a good thing, it isn't something

we should fear of having. No matter how ironic that sounds, it's true. People who do not have fear, do

not have it because they fear it themselves. You have to train yourself not to have it. And why would

you? Perhaps it's because people tease you because you jump at the sudden fire alarm. But that feeling

gives you the erg to leave the fire filled building. That feeling could save your life.


But because I showed you the brilliance and helpfulness of fear, I must help you see both sides.

Fear is a negative feeling. It can make you scream or cry. It can make you react in a way you do not

wish to react with. For example, My brother loves to jump out from behind door and scream. For the

longest time, the fear that filled me, made me react with a shove or punch, it took me a while to over

come the side effects of fear. It can also make you stay up all night, like when I was scared we all were

gonna die from a bomb. Which was only two or three years ago. I wouldn't sleep well. I would often

complain to my parents, to the point where they wanted me to see a therapist or psychiatrist. I

convinced them that I didn't need it, and later grew out of that fear. Those kinds of fears are unhealthy.


Hopefully you caught the theme of this essay, if you haven't then I do not know why you are

reading this. A kid may not have caught it, but they would have to be young, and if that is you, I advice

you stop here, or who ever is reading this to you stop reading it out loud and to themselves. Not

because there are bad scenes, but because this is very real, and though may not scare some of the older

readers, the younger of the youth may grow scared. I know that me, even being fifteen, would stop

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right there and turn away from this story. Though I lived through it. I can tell you it is an experiencece

that made me that made me think long and hard about fear. It was and experience that made me view

life in a different way. Hopefully after I tell you my story, I can explain why, and it will effect you in a

positive way. Even not, perhaps it will give you some healthy chills.


It was spring time, April or May of 2013. My dog was still alive at the time, and helped me

through everything. He would come sleep on my bed when I left the door open. We lived close to an

airport. so we heard planes going in and out all the time. They never bothered me, well, they did during

my bomb fear because I thought they would drop a bomb on me, but I was pretty close to getting over

the fear. My bed was the center of my room. I have a back board behind it that comes up to my

shoulders. Which I'm five foot eight, so I imagine it was close to five foot five, or five foot four. On the

left side of the bed, there was a night stand that was about as tall as the actual bedding. On the right

there was a dresser which was as tall the backboard of the bed. There were two mirrors in my room.

One which was imbedded into the backboard. The other was on top of the dresser. Across my bed was

a three piece set book shelf that was put in there when we moved, because the living room came with

one. It was shaped like a u. The two large pieces were on each side of the smaller piece set, which was

longer than the taller two. I kept my television on top of it.


My closet was the only source of light that I had for my room. But I couldn't sleep with the

closet door open. I say it's because I've seen too many horror movies, but you'd think that would make

me want to leave it open. I could keep the light on in my bathroom too, because it was connected to my

room, as well as the hallway, but then I loose all my privacy to my room, and it's not as bright as the

one in my closet. Normally, if I was in bed, and had to worry about that, then I would use a book light,

because that would be the only reason I would need lighting. I was very found of the fantasy novels at

the time. Now it's all manga or creepypasta, but that is besides the point. I would read up to three in the

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morning on weekends. I would be asleep by nine or ten at latest on school nights.


My room was on the top floor. It was close to my two sisters' room. There was a small landing

out side my room, and if you looked over the railing you could see the living room. My sisters' room

was located right by the steps, and mine was on the far wall. It was also located above the kitchen. You

can hear everything bellow, and very distinctly tell if someone is coming up the steps. My parents' bed

room was by the front door on the main level. Which also was close to the step leading to the top floor.

My brother lived in the basement. And I don't just mean that his room there, he hardly comes out from

the basement. He gave a new meaning to the man cave. I was the only exception to the cave. I was

always welcomed. My sisters were another issue though.


My dad was the only working parent, and he's a surgical assistant. He works longer than dawn

to dusk. He'd often work two shifts. Day and evening shift. Even if he did just work one shift, it was

evening shift, and that's still how it is, so we hardly see him. He'd normally get home around twelve

o'clock,and go to bed himself at two in the morning, to wake and go to work at five thirty in the

morning. He would spend the weekends at home, unless he was on call, and then he wasn't home then

either. So we didn't really get to see him a lot, and it's just something we got use to. It was a miracle to

see him during the week.


Now before you get too bored, I'll get to the real story. You must realize and remember

everything I told you about my family. From the basement to my bedroom, to my dad coming home.

This story starts down in the man cave. Me and my brother were playing video games, and watching a

horror movie. We were laughing and having fun. Which is what we normally do when it's just him and me.


You literally can't keep us apart with out one of us having a panic attack. I kept getting mad

because he kept killing me, and I screamed quite a bit too, since I watched the movie more than the

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game. We had finally put away our DSIs, and got out the checker board. We got through half the game

before my mom called me up to go to bed.


Of course we weren't happy, and complained. We both went up there and told her that

the movie was almost over, and we were in the middle of a match. It took us longer to convince her to

let us stay up a bit longer than it did to finish the game and movie. We sat about ten minutes longer than

needed, and just talked. I decided to be the amazing sister I was, and tried to scare him. Which in the

end, only got myself scared. I never knew how my brother convinced himself the things I said were

never really scary, but he did. Or he was just very good at hiding it. My brother himself scares me.

Though he is much to kind to harm anyone, and has no reason to end his life, I'm just scared he will

burst one day from not having another brother to ruff house with.


After our not so delightful talk, I went upstairs to bed. I laid down and the room was dark. I

closed my door because my mom was watching TV, and I wanted to sleep. There were many shadows

in my room and my wild imagination made things distorted, and scared me. I tried to get to sleep

quickly.


I needed some sleep after that movie. The movie must have effected my subconscious because I

wasn't able to sleep well. I had a rare occurrence of a nightmare. Which is hard for me to say anymore,

because even the saddest of dream can turn bright for me, because I see them as an adventure or a book

idea.

Anyways, I must tell you the dream so that the rest of this horror in real life story makes since. I

was walking through the woods. It was very dark. Kinda like slender man's woods, only I didn't know

what that was at the time. I only had moon light to guide me. I walked along. Soon I heard rustling in

the trees. I turned quickly to see an owl. I sigh in relief. Then the owl transformed into what seems like

a man, and I look around. No longer was I in woods, but in an ally was of the city. The man was dark at

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first, but soon I could pick out features. His teeth were sharp like knifes. He had a tongue like a lizard

that stuck out. His eyes were glowing red. His skin was pale, and he had razor claws. His clothes were

torn, and he was dirty. He was just something that gave a negative vibe. I held my breath, and braced

for the horror to come. When nothing opened I opened my eyes, and I was on a bed tied up. I couldn't

move. Metal chains held me, and braced my head forward. A tall figure, I couldn't tell if it was male or

female, approached me. They had a surgical mask on and gloves covering there hands. The wicked

smile haunted me, and the eyes kept glaring it's evil rays at me. They took a knife, and scissors. They

pierced it into my skin. I tried to scream, but my lips wouldn't move. I felt a tear fall down my face.

They waved my organs, one by one in front of my face. I wanted it to stop I wanted to wake, but

couldn't. This dream was getting out of control.


Finally, after much suffering I woke. Or thought I woke. I knew I wasn't dreaming at least. I

didn't care much to move, or open my eyes. I was just happy that the images were gone. Soon footsteps

filled my ears. I knew this was in real life, and not in my dreams. I can't tell you how I know, but there

was a different feeling to them. I heard them come upstairs. I tried not to worry or bother with it. I

knew I had school in the morning, so I wanted to rest up.


Suddenly, my door opened. I wanted to open my eyes now, but had difficulty. I could see

shadows. An out line of everything. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. I felt suffocated. I

couldn't breath. My arms wouldn't work. I tried to wiggle my toes, but nothing. I tried to moan, no

sound came out though. Then I wanted to scream, and nothing. I was chained down again. I knew I was

in my bedroom. I saw the shadow of my U shaped bookshelf. The shadow of a man moved. First he

went to the edge of my bed. I knew he was male, because his shoulders were too broad to be a woman.


He moved around my room for what felt like hours, but was only minutes. He kept looking at

me. Seemingly concerned to wake me. I couldn't see his face or anything. I didn't even know what he

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wore. It was like looking at a shadow puppet show, only with different shades of shadows. I was

perfectly awake now. I knew everything around me, yet knew nothing. I tried harder to yell and scream

and cry. Nothing. Dead silence except for footsteps and breathes. This was my worse nightmare come

true. I had no clue if he was a harm or threat. I didn't know his intentions. I knew nothing and it was

killing me.


Curiosity only killed the cat because that cat didn't get answers, and right then I was the cat.

Finally the figure stopped beside my bed and sat beside of me. I was terrified. Flash backs of the knife

filled my mind. I'd rather be there again. At least I could see. I could see what was happening. Even if I

didn't like what I saw.


At last, a warm hand touched my shoulder, and brought me back to life. I heard myself moan. It

was like waking up again. My eyes fluttered as I tried to open them. The light in the hallway was on,

and the one in my closet too. So I had issues adjusting. After a couple of seconds of squirming a bit,

and trying not to cry, I saw my dad sitting by me. Relief filled me. I was in no harm. I was always safe.

My dad talked softly asking me if I was okay. He said he heard screaming earlier. I nodded my head

yes, because, even though I was fully awake mentally, I wasn't physically.


He smiled and kissed my head. He knew I was much too tired to talk from how I looked, so he

didn't ask what I was dreaming about. I was glad about that. For I was still shookin up by it. He said I



had an hour before I had to get up, and that he just got home. He said much more, but I didn't process in

my mind, so I didn't remember it.


Once he left, I began to play the dream in my mind again, and again, and again. I didn't want to

forget it, and yet I did. It scared me, and thrilled me. I realized that, something as silly as a dream

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couldn't be a scary as a real life event. I turned it into an adventure. A mystery. And yet, it still gave me

the chills. Not one other dream did that to me. Though, not one other dream was fallowed by an event

just like it. I know it is hard to believe that I can memorize all that, from the very detail, but I always

had a gift for remembering dreams. I still remember some of my childhood dreams about Dragon Tales

and could tell you every little detail of them.


That morning I was a bit more quiet. My dad wasn't working a double, so he stayed in bed. My

mom came in and made breakfast. She asked if I slept alright, and I nodded my head. I was scared she

would think I was crazy if I told her what had happened. Or wouldn't believe me at the very least. I was

shaking as I ate, and she knew I had some sort of nightmare, but didn't push. I hardly talked at school

that day. I tried to avoid everyone. I was still trying to figure out what had happened.


It wasn't for another month before I told anyone. And that someone was my parents. We were

talking at the kitchen counter about nightmares, that I supposedly have often, and yet don't view them

as such. I told them about the night my body stopped working. When it died form minutes until my

father touched my shoulder. They both were concerned at first and asked for more explanation. So I

gave it to them. After rewording my self three times they understood. My mom said she had something

happen to her that was similar, but when she explained, it didn't feel similar at all. Though I nodded

okay, so that I was left alone about the topic


Up to this day the idea of that happening again haunts and scares me. I didn't like the feeling,

and I would much rather be torchured and able to watch it than that. That experience was torcher for

me. It took a lot of praying, a lot of bible reading, and a lot of faith to get over that. Not being able to

move, to feel the life that you have, there are no words for that. No one can say they truly understand

how it feels unless they go through it. And I do pray that they never have to, that you don't have to. I

have not had that happen to me again. Or at least not as bad. Every now and then I will freeze, but it

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doesn't scare me, and I quickly gain control again.


There is a healthy fear, and there is an Unhealthy fear. I can not tell you if this was healthy or

unhealthy fear. Perhaps it was both. The healthy side of it, it made sure that I would be more careful

about what was around me. The unhealthy because now I can't get over the fact that this had happened

to me, and I can't get over the fear of it happening again. I am both glad and terrified that it happened.

Both saddened and gladdened by it. It's a hard thought to grasp, but this shows that life isn't one side of

a coin. It's both. In every thing you experience, you can find joy and pain in it. It's up to us to make it

the joy and try not to make it the painful side. Sometimes making a list of how something is good and

bad really helps do that, though there are times when you have to look back and see the joy in it.


So I will leave you with this. Think about your life. About the fear you put in it. Is it healthy,

meaning it's for fun or keeps you safe? Or unhealthy, and you dwell on it all the time? I hope that you

will let the healthy fear in, and see a horror movie here and there, or go to a haunted house. To keep

yourself in check. To be frightened of certain things, but not to dwell upon them and waste your life

away. Life is a gift, it is up to us what we do with that gift. Please leave the uncontrollable things

behind, and work towards the controllable things. Even I am working to let go of this experience, and

maybe, writing this essay is the first step.















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[Deleted]

Some of the words in it are spelled wrong. re-worded, tortured. (not torchered) First paragraph urge. (not erg)

This will sound brutal, but honestly posting the rules for the competition would aid me or anyone else tremendously in helping to edit or tear this apart to re-piece it later.

The opening has some great ideas however it also seems pointless for long enough that you will lose the average reader for the contest in a short time. Remember to make this pop out at them. Keep the rambling limited. (example the dog and mirrors in your room are not necessary to the story, late hours and shift work with your dad could be described just in those simple words with the same idea.)

For those of us with active imaginations I'm sure we would remember well the details of dreams. However the average reader again doesn't care how well you remember the dream. They want you to put the story out there in a fast pace and succinct manner.

Your essay would be considerably shorter if you were to cut some of the rambling and move along faster. My last suggestion would be looking for a stronger ending with more hope for yourself and reader. Its left sounding like your still overly fearful of...well... almost everything. Not to mention you dropped the whole idea of where the fearless people end. What happened to them at the end of you being afraid of everything still? How would they be different after what you told us or how would this affect them?

Overall you have perfect outline form though. You tell us what your going to tell us about. That is a great start! Open with an intriguing argument. Tell us the story. Then close with telling us what you just told us. Then conclude with your gathering of information to support the theory.

[Blaze]

Thank you very much! There aren't really guide lines, but it can't be over ten pages. I got it up to eight. I probably won't edit it on here, but I will at home! Thank you again!

[Deleted]

Well if there is anything you wanted me to look at as you start revising it let me know.

[Blaze]

Okay, thanks.