I Hate Titles
So this was originally writted to go in a somewhat different direction, but it kind of evolved from its original purpose. This was a request from a friend, so here it is.
Fear is a funny thing. It can leave you paralyzed, quaking with terror and unable to even so much as flee the danger that it is alerting you to. At the same time it can empower you, driving someone to greater heights of valor and accomplishment, survival won through the works of one's own hands. It can be agony, terror wracking your every thought, leaving you unable to see clearly, to think clearly, to form even a coherent sentence, and can drive even the very memory of why one was afraid in the first place screaming from your mind. At the same time, however, it can also be the very pinnacle of bliss. Consider every skydiver, every roller coaster enthusiast, every participant in extreme sports...one feature connects them all. They all of them pursue that ultimate adrenaline rush, that supreme natural high that no drug could ever compare to, and that adrenaline universally stems from one thing, one source: fear. Fear of danger, fear of injury or death, fear of the unknown, perhaps even fear of fear. They take their fear, grasp the reins, and take control. Even still, these are nonetheless predictable and controllable fears. Skydivers wear parachutes. Roller coasters have safety belts. Motorcyclists wear helmets and are surrounded by first aid workers. What, then, to do? Always these seek the next level of danger, the next risk, something bigger and flashier, but what of something more...pure? More subtle? More, dare I say primal, even? Fear of the tiniest thing, fear not of the raging inferno, the ten thousand foot drop, the death-defying stunt, but fear of the tip of a needle? The gentle, subtle caress of a blade? Fear not of the loss of life, but of the loss of self? All throughout their existence, through theiir myriad empires and cultures and ideas one feature nonetheless unites humankind: the desire and the will to control. Control the environment, control ones subordinates, control even the self. This desire is hardwired into the very core of each humanbeing...what then when this control is taken away? Fear...pure, abject terror...paralysis...or bliss? At the end of it all, looking back on it now, I'm still not really sure how it happened. I don't suppose I ever will. I can remember bits and pieces, here and there, but the memory of it is fading, and I feel that I too am fading alongside it. I write these words now not as warnings, not memoirs, but as that one last act of defiance...defiance not of spirit, I'm afraid, but as ever from fear of the unknown. Fear of conclusions. If I walk off the end of the road here, step off the edge into the fall so deep I cannot see the bottom, what awaits me there? Death? Something worse? Something better? Either way I doubt I shall have much say in it for too much longer. Already the words come to me with difficulty, never mind the effort involved in actually writing them. It'd be something I could take pride in, would that I actually had any use for such an immaterial notion. Even as I write this on some level I regret it. This...this writing, this scribbling is a waste of precious time, time that could be spent productively, but those thoughts hover over the abyss. To walk towards them would be a commitment I am not yet ready to undertake. The sheer impossibility of the situation is really almost what makes it fact. It is too impossible to be imagined, too fantastical to be idly dreamed up. I remember that I woke up. The tent lay visible past my feet, a fairly simple thing, brown, small and functional, and most importantly light in weight and easy to carry. I had elected to remain outdoors for the night. It had been warm and the insects hadn't been a bother thus far. Perhaps I had wanted to watch the stars, or perhaps I wanted to keep the fire going. The whys of it elude me now. Nevertheless I awoke, sitting up inside my sleeping bag, a dark blue thing, and like the tent simple and functional. I wonder if the campsite is still there? I am surprised that the thought hadn't even occurred to me until now, but I suppose I shouldn't be, considering the circumstances. Glancing around I could see it was the waning portion of the night, the sun to rise in perhaps another hour or two. Crickets everywhere chirped out a steady music, hidden away amidst the surrounding trees. A vast field of stars filled every inch of the sky. How foolish, to look at the stars. Even if they could look back, you would be long dead by the time they could see you. The crackle of the fire is likely what had awoken me, a loud snap still echoing in my mind. Turning, I frowned, shivering lightly in the wee hours as I noticed the fire was naught but a dark pile of ashes and the blackened, burned-out husks of logs, long since extinguished. Not even smoldering embers glowed in the dark of night, the illumination from the stars and moon casting a pale glow about the area. In a sleep-addled fugue I rolled back over, placing my back to the remains of the fire pit and closing my eyes, seeking an easy transition back to sleep when the second brittle crack speared its way through the fog encasing my mind and wedged itself sharply in my attention. Sitting back up abruptly I looked around more attentively, back out beyond the fire pit, but still saw nothing. While the area was relatively safe, one can never be completely certain when it comes to nature, and predators have this funny tendency to show up whenever and wherever they are least expected. Even were it not a dangerous animal I wasn't terribly keen on the idea of having my supplies pillaged either. Sighing, I leaned down to unzip the sleeping bag, folding back the top of it to let me up, and as I settled it back down backwards I saw it. Honestly, I can't imagine how I could have missed it in the first place. It was near the foot of my resting area, between me and the tent and therefore between me and my supplies and equipment. I could feel my heart pounding out a rapid beat in my chest as my breath caught in my throat, and I desperately tried to will it down, doing everything within my ability to stay as silent as was possible as I stared at it, all too keenly aware that it was staring back. It was some kind of animal, that much was plain enough to see. It possessed a distinctly inhuman frame and looked to have the texture of fur, but in the dim of night, standing within the silhouette of the tent, further details were at best difficult to discern. It squatted in an unusual pose, large, much larger than anything I thought was living out here, and even over the crickets I could hear the distinct sound of a high-pitched and yet soft growl. A warning, perhaps, but maybe not yet an outright threat. It was hard to tell but it didn't sound...angry? Hostile? Not like you will sometimes hear from a dog or something, the growl was different somehow. Of course, I can say that now with the benefit of hindsight, at the time however the subtle intricacies of the particulars of the growling of a rather large animal scant feet from me were, suffice it to say, hardly a priority. That twinge of anticipation from the sound of the first crack had swollen greatly to anticipation of a different sort, and fear, pure liquid fear cast in adrenaline form quickly dissuaded my mind and body of any further thoughts of sleep they may have been harboring. Grateful that I had already opened the sleeping bag, I very slowly backed out of it, working my way loose and making a gradual retreat. The animal, whatever it was, maintained its vigil, watching me closely, following my every move with its eyes, but thus far hadn't moved at all. Then again, it hadn't exactly stopped growling either, and that sound spoke to another fear ingrained in the human psyche, the fear of the wild. That fear of the loss of control, knowing that here, in this place, I was far from the top of the food chain, and that this creature before me could at a whim inflict grevious, potentially even fatal, injury upon me, and this was more than sufficient to motivate me to do something about it. In this case, by hopefully being able to leave. I wasn't optimistic about my chances of being able to outrun something, especially in the woods, in the dark, with no boots on, but it had to be better than simply staying put and awaiting the inevitable conclusion to this turn of events. With any luck, the creature was more interested in whatever food I had at the camp, and would leave me be in favor of a far easier meal. With any luck. I continued my slow, gentle backwards progress, my legs and hands scraping across the small rocks and twigs of the ground, and yet far too focused to even really register such mild irritants with the far more immediate concern still prominently visible. As my feet emerged from the dark blue of the sleeping back, I raised myself slowly into a low squatting position, getting to my feet while still completely aware that the creature still hadn't moved, this of course being a cause for concern because it still had its gaze locked solidly on me and me alone, not moving a muscle save to very slowly move its head to follow my gentle rearward advance. In my crouch I was able to continue moving myself at a decidedly more agreeable rate, as well as much more comfortably. Had I been a bit more aware at the time, had I been able to divert my attention, or focus on smaller, less important details, I may have wondered why exactly it was that the random debris littering the forest floor wasn't scraping at my feet nearly so irritably as it had been my hands and legs, but then again, I suppose by that point it really wouldn't have mattered anyway. I don't really know when exactly it all started, or how, but I expect that by that point there wasn't anything anyone could have done about it anyway. At any rate, my gradual retreat on frayed nerves was expedited most abruptly by another low rumbling growl from the being at the base of my sleeping bag, as for some reason this particular utterance was simply more than my presently rather fragile state of mind was equipped to endure and with a loud sound more whimper than not I promptly bolted, scrabbling frantically in the detritus of the surrounding terrain as, blind panic taking hold of the reins, I fell to my hands and knees before quickly getting back to my feet and racing into the woods. The sound of a louder and decidedly more angry-sounding growl, even more so than the one which prompted this crazed, desperate attempt at escape in the first place met my ears as I fell over, but as I ran I could hear naught but the rushing of my blood in my ears, the crazed gasp of my breath, and the pounding of my feet against the ground, snapping twigs and crackling leaves heralding my passing, and I was unable to tell if the creature was following or not. I suppose anyone who has ever watched a movie or read a book, or for that matter even been hiking could tell you that sprinting through the woods in the middle of the night in a blind panic while likely fleeing for your life from an unknown animal is really a bad idea overall, a point well illustrated by my catching a root across the top of my foot, spilling to the forest floor in a tangle of limps, small scraps of wood, and pure, undiluted fear. Again, the subtle details and hints of it all were plain to see, if I had but looked. The dark, thickened soles of my feet, and my hands too, now that I think of it, and even now I can still see this moment in my mind as well so clearly. Fear, terror even, may burn memories from the minds of some, but in others it leaves its mark indelibly, burning not the entire area from the mind but rather working like a brand, imprinting the memory in crystal clarity for all time in the mind of its victim. In particular, the point that stands out with hindsight is the small twigs and debris that clung to my person, held in place by an array of hairs across my limbs that hand't been there before, a coating working its way from my hands and feet and back towards my torso, hidden beneath the loose t-shirt I had been sleeping in. It seemed to me to be looser than it had been before. My night vision had improved considerably as well, cutting sharply through the darkness to reveal not color at all, but nonetheless contrast between the sundry dotting the terrain about me, and whether that was attributable to my activity in the dark, or my sharp fear-laced focus, or even yet another benefit from surge after surge of adrenaline was, and in fact still is, unclear, but nonetheless through this unexpected boon I could see the area around me, and thankfully, could see nothing besides the trees and other plants with my first glance. The sights and more peculiarly the smells of the forest assaulted my senses. It really is amazing just how blind you are when you rely almost solely on your eyes. The subtle intricacies of the most simple of scents, the information carried on the wind that passes in front of your eyes every day that you simply never recognize, that you are incapable of processing or, even worse, that you just outright ignore, is downright appalling. Even as I was aware in some corner of my mind that I seemed to be getting smaller, somehow, even as my mind seemed to be closing in, contracting as the fear of the moment constricted it ever tighter, nonetheless at the same time, it was expanding, being shown this remarkable, incredible view of the world and the amount of data pouring in was simply indescribable to someone whon has never, indeed, can never experience it. The sounds, the smells, the...this language is ill-equipped to describe it. All of this input, this unexpected silver lining to the ranging storm of clouds covering this night, was what permitted me in turn to become aware of the approach of the creature that had been lurking in my camp earlier this night, the catalyst for this entire delightful romp through the woods accompanied by the sound track of my own pounding heart. I could recognize its scent, which was the most curious thing among a whole collage of curious things. For someone who had never really identified something by scent before, never even really thought about it, it was odd to realize that that was how I realized that it was following me, that it was nearby, that it was watching me silently, just observing. I still didn't know what precisely it wanted from me, but it seemed obvious that it didn't intend to attack me, so I sat there confused, and now that I had noticed it I took the opportunity to observe it. It was decidedly larger than it had seemed before, much bigger or so it seemed to me, and was covered in a pelt of short rough fur. Specific details on it were somewhat difficult to make out in the night, the darkness shrouding its features, the specific details reluctant to shed their secrets to me but it was an animal of some sort, that much was plain. Its raised ears, a short muzzle, a tail barely visible slowly flexing behind it in the dark. It seemed to practically tower over me by this point, slowly moving closer, barely making a sound to disturb the peace and still of the night air. A shiver of panic slid through my form, the hairs now coating my body from head to toe carrying the subtle vibration along and amplifying it, and I took another involuntary step back, barely even noticing as I stepped back out of my jeans. The only disruption came as my now seriously oversized shirt slipped up and over my head and for a moment the panic came full force as my vision was obstructed by the material covering my head and in a desperate mad scrabbling I scrambled backwards, pulling back from it and panting desperately as my mind flew off the handle to all manner of possibilities, none of them pleasing to think on, but as I came free of the confining clothing I could see that nothing too remarkable had changed, the creature in question had continued moving closer but had still otherwise made no threatening geastures. It pulled closer and yet closer still, and its lips split in what almost looked like a grin. A very wide, very toothy grin, the sharp points of its teeth accentuated by the eerie glow of its eyes just above. It didn't seem to stand like a normal animal, I couldn't quite place it but it was taller, more upright, and while it came forward towards me on all fours I couldn't help but observe that it seemed that it was coming at me in that fashion simply to bring it more down to my level rather than because it needed to. A low growl filled the air, its rumbling like a thunder almost but it didn't seem to hint at any storm. It was puzzling really, to be approached by a creature so clearly predatory and yet seeming not to wish me harm, but nonetheless I was hardly inclined to reciprocate its movement and elected instead to mimic it, pulling back and away from it step by step, the odd feeling of both moving on all fours, not to mention what would be a completely new fifth appendage even brushing across the ground behind me not even registering amidst all the bizarre events of the night. Something must have triggered it, in the end, something sudden and abrupt that broke through the sharp current of fear that held me on the edge of a razor, sharp and painful to walk on and yet still nothing compared to falling off the side once again. Perhaps some change of pitch in the creature slowly stalking me, perhaps a twig snapped. Whatever it was, all I know is that in one moment I was watching the animal coming at me attentively, completely ridgedly alert, and in the next I was running, running furiously, but this was different than before. Where before I ran on two legs, high off the ground, now I found myself racing across the floor of the forest, making incredible time by comparison for being so much smaller, and with the enchanced level of information streaming into my mind through my expanded senses I could see fallen branches, rocks, anything in my way, dodging with a remarkable dexterity that I never could have known as I had been before. I don't really know how long I ran. I stopped as the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. It may have only been a couple of minutes before I returned to rational thinking, it may in turn have been hours. Yet another item on the list of things I don't know about all of this. What I do know is that that other animal, whatever it was, hadn't elected to pursue me. It seems obvious that it was the one that effected this transformation upon me, but to what end I couldn't even begin to fathom a guess. To test something, to punish some perceived slight, or perhaps just for its own amusement? I don't know, but in the end it really matters little. Now as I write this I look at the sun, low in the sky, not even yet noon, and I realize it has only been a scant matter of hours since the events in question...it feels like so long ago though. Or has it been days? Weeks? I can't seem to remember, it...the days, the hours, all of it is like a blur, there is a start, certainly, and a present, leading inexorably towards a conclusion but a middle? I just can't call it forward, cannot seem to find it, and I think it to be just as likely that in the panic of it, the fear, the abject terror at the imminent proposal of losing ones life and then moreover not just the plausibility but the reality of losing ones self alongside it that fear, in its own strangely merciful way, elected to close my eyes to those events, smoothing out the rough edges and laying down a nice soft carpet across the top, the better to hide, the better to survive. I guess there really is no real reason to continue this, to pursue this any further. No one will ever read these and having put these words down into being I find an odd sense of comfort, of fulfillment, filling my body and my mind resting now, more at ease than I have been at any time in recent memory. I do not yet know if this is acceptance of inevitability, or resignation towards the same, but I do suspect that I am about to find out.