Losing Your Fear
When we lose the fear of something, where does that fear go?
Jaxon lived to scare Debra.
There was nothing better than the sound of his big sister shrieking. Playing Xbox, watching TV, going to the mall, or a chocolate ice cream cone with sprinkles—not anything.
Jaxon loved to see Debra’s hair fly, a labyrinth of red, spindly wires popping out of her head. He liked how her pupils flared as she screamed. He enjoyed watching her body jerk as if a puppeteer pulled her strings.
Jaxon was ten, and Debra was fourteen.
Once, while Debra was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, Jaxon snuck into her room and slipped under the bed, where he patiently waited for her. She can take as long as she wants, Jaxon thought, because this will be a doozy. This scare should win an Olympic gold medal for Little Brothers Scaring Big Sisters.
After Debra settled into bed, but before she fell asleep, Jaxon released a fleeting, indistinct grunt. He did his best to make the noise appear as if it might have come from anywhere: leaves rustling outside, a creaking floor, the cat playing...or a monster.
Jaxon counted down from sixty and then firmly shoved the mattress. He let loose a blaring "eee-yee" while reaching his hand around the bed frame.
Debra screamed and bolted out of her room.
Turbulent laughter rocked Jaxon.
Following the Best Fright Ever, Jaxon served a thirty-day sentence that included no comics (except for his favorite that he hid under his mattress), no computer, no television, no phone calls, no after-school playdates, no dessert, and no Xbox.
It was so worth it, Jaxon thought.
Another time, when their cat, Pistachio, brought home a deceased mouse, Jaxon slipped the dead rodent in his sister's coat pocket.
After breakfast, Debra put on her down parka for school. When she checked to make sure she had her keys , Debra found the mouse. She shrieked and flailed to exit the parka. Her hair shot straight up.
Jaxon shined a canyon-wide grin toward his sister.
Debra mouthed bad words Jaxon’s way.
On most days, Jaxon would creep up behind Debra, tap her shoulder, and go “boo.” A basic scare that satisfied Jaxon until he could invent something more spectacular, like the time he snuck into his sister’s room while she was sleeping and dotted her face with a red magic marker. He woke the next morning to the delightful sound of Debra screaming.
Debra pleaded with Jaxon to stop. "I don’t like it when you scare me."
"Maybe if your hair didn’t go all Medusa, I wouldn’t."
“I can't control my reactions."
Debra never told Jaxon about the crushing headaches his frights caused, because if he knew, he’d terrorize her even more.
By nine p.m. on Friday, Jaxon hadn’t yet scared Debra. It was coming, of that Debra was sure, but the later it became, the fewer options Jaxon had.
As Debra walked into her room, she knew there were only three places Jaxon could hide: behind the door, under the bed, or in the closet.
She closed the door. No Jaxon behind it. She pitched a shoe under the bed. Jaxon wasn’t there either, which meant he had to be in the closet.
I’m ready.
She forced her lips together. She curled her toes and held her breath, anticipating Jaxon’s leap out of the closet. Her pulse quickened. Her head throbbed and burned inside. She balled her hands into fists so hard they steamed.
Jump already! Debra thought. Get out of the closet, scare me, and let's get this done with. Debra pushed those thoughts to the closet where Jaxon hid.
She saw an explosion of light inside her head and heard a pop, like a bursting balloon.
Her pupils dilated wide. Burning, bright white light fled her eyes, sending shock waves of pain through her head. The light bathed the closet door like a searchlight, probing for an opening.
Debra’s legs wobbled. Her red hair rose high above her head as if energized by an electrical storm.
The wooden door cracked into fissures, and the light found its way into the closet.
A guttural growl echoed off the interior closet walls. Cold, wet flesh touched Jaxon's leg. He screamed.
A tentacle slithered up his leg and then coiled around his calf, cutting off circulation.
Jaxon turned the door handle, but the latch didn't engage. He shouldered against the door, but it would not open. “Debra, help. I'm stuck in the closet.”
"I know you're in the closet," she said. “You’re there to scare me.”
“I can't get out. And...and there's something in here.”
The creature wrapped around Jaxon’s chest. Beyond the tentacle was a mass of writhing appendages, some snake-like, others that looked like they belonged to a giant, prehistoric squid. The monster extended into a tornadic cloud that had been the closet’s back wall.
The creature tightened its grip around Jaxon’s middle and dragged him into the mist. As his mouth disappeared, Jaxon uttered one last, feeble, “Help me.”
Debra wedged her feet against the floor and pulled the handle with all her might. The door burst open.
The closet smelled like a dead, decaying forest.
Debra gagged, and bile rose from her belly.
Debra saw the last of Jaxon’s head, and then he was gone. The tentacle’s tip waved at her as it, too, vanished into the cyclone.
Debra’s headache stopped. She touched her hair; it was no longer in flight. She felt lighter, and after a moment, realized what that sensation was. Her fear was gone.
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If you enjoyed Losing Your Fear, I think you’ll also like my story, The Door Shaker.
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Now that was just brilliant 🥰👍
This was fantastic, Bill.
I love your imagination to the hilt with every read!