Fear and Life Lessons - Short Story

This week's short story prompt from Chuck (link: www.terribleminds.com) was short and sweet: Write about what scares you. Not as easy as it sounds, but to give up on only the second challenge was not an option. You'd think the first thing on my list of fears would be to spell it all out right here. It is a little bit scary, but that's the point I guess. Feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated. Thank you.

Fear and Life Lessons

by Michelle Baillargeon

“We stopped checking for monsters under the bed when we realized they were inside of us.” Stephen King

What scares me? My first reaction is a quick “not much.” I grew up reading horror stories and watching scary movies. I’ve had a long relationship with horror so it takes a lot to give me a good scare these days. The last time was The Blair Witch Project. It was original, clever and it looked just like the woods from my childhood. Scary. 

I realized, though, scary monsters do exist. They’re giant, hairy creatures with big claws and pointy teeth and they live inside me. Dracula, the Mummy and the Wolfman have nothing on these guys. Comparatively, my monsters have such unassuming names: Bees, Conflict, Winter Driving, Heights, Missing Out, Meeting New People; but they pack a punch. Yet, one cannot live in fear. Not completely, not happily and not for long. So, one chooses her weapons carefully and charges into battle. 

Bees, wasps and yellow-jackets scare me. It’s not so much the bee itself, it’s the threat of the chase or the possibility of the sting. When a bee or wasp flies near, something cold and clammy grabs my heart, I hold my breath and freeze, waiting and watching. Will it fly away or come at me? Panic builds inside me until the bee flies away, unaware. I have a policy now: “I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.” It seems to work. I am able to keep the cold dead hand from clutching at my heart. I can even appreciate them (from afar, of course). The monster isn’t dead, but I’ve shushed him. 

—-

When I was in the third grade, my family was in a car accident in Vermont. It was winter, snowing, and extremely cold. That was the night I learned bridges freeze first. My Dad, who’d been hunting, was asleep in the back seat, my mom was driving. I had shotgun, which gave me a front row seat to the whole event. We hit the first bridge head on when the car went into a spin. We watched, helpless and at the mercy of the ice, as the deep ravine below the bridge came into view (did I mention my fear of heights yet?). The car bounced off the guard rail and the car completed the spin. We slid onto the next bridge where the scene was repeated. Somehow, Mom got the car to the median, where all six of us scrambled from the car, unhurt. A pickup truck with a camper on it hit our car and rolled down the median, just missing my little brother. 

I watched as, during the drive back to Pop’s (at speeds much too fast for what we’d just been through), my Dad gripped the state trooper’s dashboard so hard he left fingernail impressions. I watched as my mother fell apart, imagining how close we’d all come to being hurt or killed. I soaked it all up. 

I got my license as soon as I could, loving the freedom it provided. Life balances out the good with the bad, which meant that I also had to deal with driving in the New England winters. Winter brought the constant fear of snow (or, God forbid, ice) storms; how many inches are expected? will I be able to get home from work? will they plow in time? The stress and outright fear was near paralyzing and I put up with it until I was 39. My best friend and I moved to Arizona that year and I’ve never had such peace of mind. Monster down. 

—-

Meeting new people scares me. It goes beyond shyness. I’ve learned to, if not control, downplay outward signs of my fear (blushing, racing heart, sweaty palms) and just go in for the introductory handshake with a big smile. Deep inside, the monster of low self-esteem rears its ugly head: have they already made up their mind about me? do they only see my weight and my double chin? 

I know two things for sure: life is short and you can’t have too many good friends. This fear, in its own way, has formed who I am now. So I remind myself not to judge a book by its cover, give people the chance I want to have, get to know them first. To assume that each new person I meet is that shallow is to doom a potentially wonderful new relationship. That monster is still inside of me but he’s smaller now and I brush him aside. I’d rather be optimistic than afraid.

—-

I moved to Arizona in November of 2006 toting a brand new cell phone for the long trip. Two months later, I got a call from my mother telling me about her brain biopsy happening the next day. The volume on my cell was turned up and stayed on. I vowed not to miss one phone call or message - and I didn’t. I got the call saying Mom had a small stroke. I got the call saying Mom’s doing better and was able to go the fair. That November, I got the call saying come now, there’s not much time. I also got the calls from Mom herself, precious phone calls about everyday stuff. 

It’ll be ten years this fall that she’s been gone and I still can’t be without my phone. I am afraid to miss “the call” when it comes, what ever it might be. This monster has a tight grip on me and it whispers in my ear, “what if…” 

I hear my friend’s voice, too. It’s loud and clear. It says I only have an illusion of control over any given situation; if something has happened, when you get the call isn’t going to change it. I try to listen to the stronger voice, and I’ll get there. We went on vacation and I was actually able to leave the phone in our room while we went to pick seashells. It was liberating, so I’ll hold onto that feeling. Monster phaser on stun. 

“Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.” John Wayne

Maggie and the Apocalypse - Short Story

I am posting my first short story, as I promised yesterday. In October of last year, I discovered a blog called: terribleminds.com (check it out!). I was so excited to find tons of inspiration there. I also discovered that on Fridays, Chuck posts a writing prompt and his subscribers return and post their stories. I made a decision to participate right then and there and I hungrily awaited his next prompt.

This short story is in response to his first prompt of 2017, which was: "I don't want you to write THE USUAL APOCALYPSE. I want you to make one up you have not seen before. A rare, strange, unparalleled apocalypse. Unexpected. Unwritten."

Here goes, hope you like it.

Maggie and the Apocalypse

by Michelle Baillargeon

Harold T., Kansas

I suppose it’s not the worse thing; I mean, a person can do without this or without that.  It can be done, for a time, and if you set your mind to it. Willpower and such. Especially if it’s your choice, to cut down on that thing for a new year’s resolution or for “doctor’s orders.” But, knowing you can never, ever have a certain thing again…when you know it’s permanent and for sure and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it; well, I’m sorry, that’s hard to swallow. Pardon the pun. 

Honey! My precious, gooey, golden sweet nectar. What am I going to do without it? Sure, I have a small supply secreted away. We’ve all been hoarding one thing or another, haven’t we? Ever since the “scientific community” warned us. Bastards. Warnings are all they had; doom and gloom. They were too late to be helpful. Where were the reports  and headlines we’d all hoped for? “Issues reversed by scientific community!”, or even “Miscalculation - we were wrong!” We all would have been happy with that - a simple mistake. But no. What did they say instead? Nothing to be done. Act of God. A whole lot of nothing - that’s what they started with and that's what we’ve ended up with. 

Clover honey, that’s my poison; for others, maybe strawberry or blackberry preserves, or almonds. That one thing that you can't do without. At least some of these things can be stored long term, and those of us who planned ahead when the word came were able to put away what we could. Of course, they asked us not to hoard; make sure there’s enough for all. That’s rich. What did they expect - selflessness at the end of days? Since when is it human nature to share when the going gets tough? No. Human nature says “mine,” “ours” and “take,” and so we did. Secretly and ashamedly. Guiltily? Happily? Fruitlessly? Pun intended.

I have only a four mason jars left from my original hoard (there, I admit it) of three dozen. I was so proud of myself and so sure I could make it last for ever. I mean, we never really thought the day would come, did we? Something so preposterous. Maybe I was right, after all. If what they say is true and the end is near, maybe I did make it last for ever. 

Sally P. Massachusetts

I have been afraid of bumble bees practically my whole life. I’ve been stung twice and both times are permanently etched in mind. This fear that has been a part of my life since a bee stung me on my thumb when I was eight years old. I was exploring my back yard near the edge of the woods when I stirred up a nest. I ran back to the house and my mother, but I was too late. One of the bees (only one, mind you) caught me and that was it. Stung! It didn’t matter that it was only one bee and one sting. I was scarred for life, as they say. 

Evidence of the trauma I suffered stayed with me. To prove it, I would hold out my hand to anyone who would let me and proudly point to the site of said sting, swearing the truth as I pointed, “see, the stinger is still in there.” There was a small red dot and if I scratched my fingernail across it, I really could feel something in there. I can’t find that spot today, but I search for it every once in a while. I guess I’m a bit nostalgic. 

When I was in my twenties, I was stung again. On my face. Well, to be more precise, up one nostril. The left one. I’m telling you the truth; although, in this case I cant’t point to a little red dot to back up my claim. I do have witnesses, though; a whole picnic table full of family and friends. Family and friends void of sympathy; people who will laugh at another’s pain, suffering and fears (and only then, after they catch their breath, ask you if you’re OK). To be fair, my mother held out the longest. I give her credit for trying. 

Here’s what happened. A bee had apparently gotten trapped in the pages of a paperback I’d set aside. After lunch, I picked the book up to continue reading. The movement freed the trapped bee, who was pretty angry, mind you. It shot up and out of its paper prison and headed directly for me. My head flew back instinctively, but too slow. My thought is the bee, in its dazed state, thought my nose looked like an entrance to his hive. He was mistaken, of course, but not before stinging me in his desperation to flee this second, terrible trap. 

I’m still amazed at all I was able to process in the split second it entered my nostril: I knew I could not use my hands to fight the bee (lest it sting me on my hand!), instead, with my head tilted back, I took a huge breath in through my mouth and blew it out, as hard as I could, through my nose. It worked! He was gone - like a shot! We had parted ways, but not before leaving me with a little present to remember him by. My upper lip swelled for a bit and I did tear up, but I was able to join in the laughter. Eventually.

I can relax now that they’re gone. I know they’re not coming back but part of me is relieved. I‘ve spent my life dodging bees, fearful of being chased, veering away from flower gardens. 

I would go back to that time if I could, live side by side with the bees. And the birds, and the butterflies and the flowers and the fruit. They say you don't know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. They’re right. Soon, we’ll be gone, too. 

MaggieUpdate.com

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Magnetic Field - Status

The Earth’s Magnetic Field (dubbed “Maggie” by the media) has now reached is weakest state to date.

As you know, Maggie began to destabilize ten years ago when iron atoms in the Earth’s outer core started to re-align. Scientists could not explain why this happened, but were able to predict that the the re-alignment was leading up to a major shift in the magnetic poles. This meant that compasses would eventually point South. Not such a big deal, overall. It’s happened before. 

When the shift began, however, the magnetic field began to shrink at an unexpected rate. This was, and continues to be, the major problem. This means that the shield surrounding and protecting the earth is fading. Solar winds, which had been partially blocked by Maggie until now, are able to enter our atmosphere freely. Solar winds, which carry solar radiation, are no longer being deflected into space and incidents of skin cancer (already too high) will continue to rise. Satellites and communication systems are faltering, as have power grids in less developed countries. Our grid here in the US is holding its own, so far. Soon, the demands on it will overpower it’s ability to function under Maggie’s reign. 

Maggie’s effect on our planet’s animals, who once used the Earth’s magnetic field to assist with their navigation, has been devastating. With their internal GPS on the fritz, homing pigeons stopped going home and Monarch butterflies couldn’t migrate south. Who could predict that such a small, humble creature as the bumble bee would spell the end for us? 

With Maggie damaged, the bees were unable to seek out their favorite field of clover or even return to their hive. With bees unable to pollinate (eat), they died. Major crops went un-pollinated and they died. No more fruit, vegetables, nuts or honey. Simply put, bees were responsible for the majority of the worlds nutrition (approximately 70 out of 100 human crops) and now they’re gone. 

What remains? Previously lush farmlands are now barren, reminiscent of the Dust Bowl of the early 1900’s. Food reserves have all but run out, save for a few private hoards. With nothing left to steal, looting has been pretty much non-existent. Doomsday theorists predict that Maggie’s current state could usher in an onslaught of new global worries: earthquakes, tsunamis or catastrophic changes in the global climate. The scientific community doesn't dispute the possibility. Stay safe out there. In the meantime, we will post updates as long as we’re able. 

Blog Introduction

Hi and welcome to my blog. I will be sharing short stories, progress on my book and a photo here and there. I hope to have a short story posted here by Friday (1/13/2017) prompted by a challenge posted by Chuck Wendig on his blog: Terrible Minds. He has an awesome blog, stop by and check it out. Here's a link: www.terribleminds.com. The challenge was to post a 1500 word story about an unusual, unwritten, apocalypse. I think I've got one to share and as soon as the kinks are worked out, I will post it. Thank you for stopping by.

Michelle