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Winters Fear - A short story

Winters Fear - A short story

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Published by prettybootsx
This is a short story I wrote for a creative writing assignment. Please let me know what you think of it. :)
This is a short story I wrote for a creative writing assignment. Please let me know what you think of it. :)

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Published by: prettybootsx on Feb 25, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/19/2012

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Winter’s Fear
Snow. Again. Each and every time I glimpse through the glass panesthat shield me from the outside, I see snow. I remember the first time I sawthose whirling currents throughout the atmosphere, beautiful and pure, andyet to me they were sinister, dangerous and suffocating. Every time thewhite, sparkly flakes fall I feel my pulse begin to race, and my heart pound,hammering against my ribcage. Trying to break free. So I step away from theglistening, swirling dust and curl into myself. Into the only place I know issafe.As I curl smaller I fall deeper within myself, deeper until I find a placewhere I am calm, where I feel safe.I suffer from Agoraphobia*, Chionaphobia*, Frigophobia*. I haven’t leftthis house for four years. I’ve tried but every time I reach the threshold, Ican’t breathe, my palms become slick with sweat and I cannot hear anythingover the beating of my heart. The door looms ahead, threatening my sanity,binding my faith in myself, but I cannot bring myself to approach it, I cannotbring myself to risk the feel of winters kiss upon my cheek. A cold kiss, asharp bite, a choking fear I’d rather avoid. So I do avoid. Avoiding everything,the staring faces that used to smile, the quiet streets too quiet for comfort,and my reflection. As I stare at what I am, what I was, what I am yet to be,my ears start to ring and my breath comes in short sharp bursts.Autophobia*. Inescapable. The one fear I cannot avoid.I curl away from the window, the mirror, the door, but I can’t get away.Drafts flow through the cracks in my walls, flooding me with dread as thecold overtakes me. It seems to me there was never a time I wasn’t afraid,but I remember smiling, an action long lost from my life. Smiling meanshappiness surely? When was there happiness in my life? When was thereever someone to take care of me?Happiness. A word that ran away from my mind, ran away from myinsanity, my depression. You run when you are afraid, was happiness afraidof me? I cringe away from the cold knowing that my heart is much colder,frozen. Encased within my trembling body. I hug myself, rubbing thegoosebumps on my arms, knowing they are not caused by the cold itself.
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 There is nothing I can do to stop these fears. I’ve tried counselling,hypnotism, even considered suicide. If it weren’t for other fears that wouldbe the easy way out. No-one to miss me, no-one to realise I’m gone, no-oneto realise I’m still here. Still suffering. Fear is an obscureterm. It seems simple enough but what is it really. Is it the rush of adrenaline? The flood of dread?It affects us so much but we don’t really know why we feel as we do. If we knew we could try to overcome this word that can cause temporaryparalysis, but that’s the problem. Essentially we fear the unknown. Yet thereis no technical name for the fear of the unknown, even though 99% of theworld’s population suffer from said phobia. To name something reduces fearof the thing.So as I stand in the corridor, braving the drafts breaking through thebarrier of my front door, I chant phobias under my breath.
 Aerophobia Acrophobia Agateophobia.
With each word I advance one step closer todread, closer until I am closer than I’ve ever been before. I don’t feel proud; Iam too overcome by looming horror. Pulling at the numerous chains on mydoor, my fingers tremble as they blur across the locks. Moving too fast,breaking my barrier too easily for comfort but they won’t stop. I try and trybut they work of their own accord. Demolishing my walls, the walls that keptme sane, secure and stable. The searing cold metal burns my fingers, numbing them from the stingof the latch as it slips out of place. I freeze. Paralysed by the fear of everything lurking beyond my now defenceless door. The cold, the snow, thespace, the streets, the stares. The stares and gazes, accusing, pitying,wondering. Ophthalmophobia, fear of being stared at. I should be used tothis, such a frequent ritual, but each step is another stab in my chest. A stepcloser towards what feels like death. The dark wood of the door taunts me, haunts me; and the dancingwhirls and knots in the grain reflect my inside spinning and twining together,apart, together again. Chinks of light escape from the boards covering thebeautiful stained glass, beautiful yet fragile, too fragile for safety, tooinsecure. The glowing beams scatter through the hall, illuminating the hell inwhich I feel secure. Of all my problems I never had a denial issues. I know
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*Agoraphobia fear of the outside *Chionophobia – fear of snow *Frigophobia fear of the cold*Autophobia – fear of oneself 

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