Laina Darger

820 N Washington Avenue

Madison,
South
Creative Nonfiction
tmdarger@pluto.dsu.edu
2,054 Words

Dakota

57042

Searching for Fear

Before I was old enough to understand the concepts of murder or home
invasions, I stayed up late in my grandpas living room to watch the first Scream
movie with my uncle. I ended up not being able to sleep alone that night and I
convinced my uncle to scoot over to share his bed. The next morning I was teased
by my uncle for being too scared to sleep alone the previous night, but that fear did
not stop me. I was already addicted to the rush of adrenaline and I liked being able
to look back and laugh at how silly I was for jumping at whatever had scared me.
Little did I know, at the age of seven years old, that this would be the start of my
love and simultaneous fear of scary movies.
Fast forward to middle school. I had discovered the wonders of the internet
and stumbled upon an article about a man in Japan. I read about how he had
noticed that his food would go missing, so to find out why, he set up several
cameras throughout his house. Not knowing what to expect while watching the
video a couple of days afterwards, the man saw something truly creepy. A woman
had been living in his closet and snuck out at night to eat his food.
Reading this article made my paranoia levels reach an all-time high that they,
to this day, have not come down from. Sitting in my living room at home, when it is
late at night and I hear a mysterious creak down the hallway, my anxiety levels
shoot up and I start to get nervous. My imagination starts and does not stop until I
force myself to fall asleep, and I have to rationally talk to myself, tell myself
repeatedly that I am alone and nothing is going to happen to me. The banisters of

the stairs by the living room are hidden by the computer desk and television set;
however, I how easy it is to see through the cracks in the desk and around the
television, to look at who is in the living room. It is the prime location to watch and
not be seen, as are the banisters by the stairs that lead to the top floor of my house.
Thinking about all of these things leads me to think of the inevitable what if Im
being watched right now? What if someone was watching through the cracks? What
if someone is in my house?
There is a show on the Travel Channel that goes by the name of Ghost
Adventures. It follows the activities of three fully grown men, who claim to be ghost
hunters, as they travel to different haunted locations around America. The show is
completely harmless, not to mention ridiculously stupid during the daytime when
the sun is out, almost nothing is scary. But in the middle of the night, during a Ghost
Adventures marathon, when the lights are all out and I have no one but my
lethargic cat to guard me from evil spirits, the show turns into the next Blair Witch
Project, even more horrifying than The Ring or Paranormal Activity. When Im so
wrapped up in my mind and I let the spooky atmosphere wash over me, I cant help
myself and I fall into the trap that this show has created. I believe that the scaredycat camera man was attacked and scratched by a ghost. I believe that the
disembodied voices that are caught on recorder (the ones that really sound like
wind blowing past an open window) are really warning the trio to run. I believe that
all of these so called ghost experts have been studying these buildings for years
and have pinpointed the ghosts exact locations, and done research to find out who
they were when they were alive and how they died.
When I get into these kinds of moods, there are very few things I can do to
calm myself and make sure I will be safe for yet another night. First, I make sure I

know where my cats are. Ever since watching the Mummy when I was in elementary
school, my smallest cat, Little Girl, has been a comforting presence in my life, and
makes me feel like I could easily ward off any evil spirits or attackers, as long as my
beloved ball of fluff is beside me (if a thousands of years old mummy from Egypt is
afraid of cats, whos to say that a ghost wont be?). Second, I evaluate the situation.
How many lights are on? Do I need to turn more on? From my position, can I easily
spot any possible hiding spots in the living room? Should I relocate myself to a safer
position? Are my arms and legs firmly on the couch, no limbs hanging dangerously
close to the edge? Am I fully prepared to stay where I am for the rest of the night? Is
my phone within reach? After I have answered all of these questions, I tuck myself
into my blanket, cuddle my cat, and watch my favorite TV shows, like Doctor Who
and Supernatural, until I fall asleep.
In an interesting turn of events, whereas I actively seek out things that I know
will scare me, my mother is the complete opposite; she would do just about
anything to avoid being scared, and only goes to scary movies when bribed, or
under the impression that the movie is going to be funny. February of last year, a
movie called The Woman in Black came to theatres, and I was more than eager to
see it. My mother agreed to go, mostly because the lead actor, Daniel Radcliffe,
played Harry Potter in the popular movie series, and with my uncle, Kyle, in tow, we
took our seats as close to the center of the theatre as possible. This proved to be a
slight problem, however, as the theatre was packed. Kids as young as nine years old
were sat in the theatre, as well as adults well into their fifties.
I sat between my mother and uncle, as I knew that this placement would
make watching the movie as fun as possible; while my mother jumps at the
slightest surprises, Kyle can make a joke about anything that is happening. And not

too long into the movie, I had proven to myself that this seat placement was the
right choice. Not only would I jump because my mother jumped, but I would also be
laughing as Kyle whispered jokes into my ear.
And not halfway through the movie, my mothers reaction to something
jumping out at her was the best reaction I have seen to a scary movie, and I do not
think I will ever see a reaction like it ever again. I cannot quite remember what it
was that made my mother jump probably a sudden appearance of the dead
woman, or an unexpected bird flying across the screen but as she jumped, she
jerked her hands out in front of her, only to then pull them in close to her, hitting
herself in the face in the process. It certainly was not the first time she has
embarrassed herself like that in front of us, but it is currently a topic that is not
allowed to be discussed in our home. Other funny things happened in the theatre
that night, at one point, it sounded like someone in the front of the theatre was
puking but my mother inadvertently hitting herself in the face takes the cake.
The summer before my second year of college, I spent a lot of time with a
friend who had recently graduated from high school. Her name was Kavitha and her
and I were nearly identical in so many aspects of our lives our opinions on most
things are the same, our imaginations are similarly wild, and we have often been
confused for sisters. That summer, my family soon learned that hanging out with
Kavitha was synonymous with staying out late with our friends and probably
getting home around three in the morning.
One night Kavitha drove me home after we decided that we should probably
get some sleep, and we sat in my driveway, talking for an additional hour and a half
like we always did. For some reason, my overactive imagination was acting up even
more than usual, and as soon as the car was parked in my driveway, I got the

feeling that something strange was happening. I quickly shrugged it off and listened
as Kavitha told me about her problems with her family and boys, though I
occasionally glanced out the window towards my house, just to be sure that nothing
was off.
As my eyes traveled across my garage and towards my mothers window, I
noticed something that was definitely off; there was an oddly shaped shadow in her
room, where her shirts normally hang in front of the window and her bookshelf sits
to the side. I studied the shadow, tuning Kavitha out for a motherent, and the longer
I looked, the more I felt that something was wrong.
Slowly, my mind started to turn the amoeba-like shadow into a shape I could
recognize, and I wished that it hadnt. Suddenly, I wasnt just looking at a shapeless
shadow, but rather a shadow that looked like a womans silhouette, a woman who
was definitely not my mother. Not only did it appear that there was a woman in my
mothers room, but it also seemed that she was looking out the window, at us.
Kavitha confirmed for me that she saw the same thing I did, though whether
it was through the power of suggestion or not, she said that she was seeing what I
was seeing, and we quickly agreed to leave my neighborhood, as it was a little too
eerie for us both of us were imagining someone in my mothers room, silently
watching us, maybe as a ghost or maybe as an intruder. After a couple minutes of
aimlessly driving around, we arrived back at my house, and I looked at the window
again, but the shadow was still there. I eventually got out of the car and quickly
walked to my front door, getting inside and making a beeline for the couch in record
time. The next day I mentioned the shadow to my mother, but she had not noticed
anything out of the ordinary in her room.

My two year old cousin, Logan, has a rocking horse in his room, and over the
summer, due to Logans habit of jumping on it with no support except for the flimsy
leather reins, it spent some time in the living room. The rocking horse had springs,
allowing it to bounce up and down, and whenever someone sat on it, it would start
to make galloping and neighing noises. But the batteries must have been dying,
because this horse, as it stared at the television, would start to neigh and gallop
without being touched.
That being said, there was one night in particular that I wished I had not been
awake, mindlessly watching TV and surfing the internet in my living room. As I
refreshed my Facebook homepage, the rocking horse went off the neighing
causing me to jump. It was two oclock in the morning and I was the only one
awake. Little Girl, the cat I mentioned before, and Spaz, my lethargic cat who is
happy as long as there is food in her dish and water in her bowl, were nowhere to be
seen, and I was sitting with my legs crossed beneath me in the middle of my couch.
I stared at the horse for a while, as it went off multiple times for no reason at
all, before I took action I updated my Facebook status to something that was
supposed to be witty, about how I was going to be found dead on the couch the
next morning. Needless to say, I didnt die. Thinking back on it, the batteries in the
horse were probably dying, and causing it to malfunction, though it could have
chosen an infinitely better time to go off than two in the morning.