fear | Fred Aiken Writing

Get Off the Stage

Daily writing prompt

What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

My initial reaction is to say that the thing I fear most doing is socializing, but I suppose that’s not entirely true. I can, when prompted, socialize just fine. I just don’t like doing it. I’d prefer to live as hermetically as possible.

But when it comes to a genuine fear, then I suppose public speaking is pretty high up on that list. I absolutely detest getting up in front of a crowd and discussing a topic in great detail. I’m sure it’s just a matter of practicing and doing it repeatedly, but I think the initial fear of going up and having all eyes on you drains me of any motivation to ever volunteer, especially since it’s not like my job and/or lifestyle really calls for such occasions.

I never understood why it was required to do public speaking in grade school. There always seemed like a better way of testing a student on their grasp of the material, and the sort of speeches that grade-school students gave, myself included, were always so very terrible. If anything, I feel as if a good chunk of the credit as to why public speaking is so difficult for so many people could probably be attributed to the poor guidance given by teachers as to how to overcome one’s natural hesitations and dislike for speaking in front of the class.

The only feedback I ever received about how good or bad I did presenting the information I was supposed to regurgitate in front of the class was always some letter grade, but I was never really give any sort of concrete suggestions or feedback that could be considered useful in perhaps getting better and less nervous when giving a public speech. Instead, I developed a horrible anxiety about the whole matter, and that sort of feeling only grew with time.

Now, the handful of times in which I do need to speak in front of a crowd of more than three people, I will stutter and stumble over most words. I have a hard time looking at people, and so it probably just looks like I’m just staring off into space, which I will then become incredibly paranoid about and start to intensely look at everyone as awkwardly as possible. Without fail, I forget what I need to say, or I will speed through everything that needs to be said so fast that it becomes difficult to understand what it is I’m discussing, both for the audience and myself as well.

While I absolutely detest giving public speeches, I do not envy the position that anyone in the audience must go through while listening to whatever I’m talking about. I mumble. I sweat. I skip over huge chunks of the speech that I thought I had memorized. I do not follow a coherent line of reason. It really must be quite a mess listening to me stumble through my speech. And yet…and yet, for whatever reason, the audience will always limply clap at the end. Never because I did a particularly good job, but rather out of a sense of obligation, because, well, that’s what you do when you listen to a person give the most awkward, incomprehensible speech imaginable; just nod, and wait until they get off the stage.

With all that said, though, I’d much rather give a public speech than have anyone ever touch any of my nails. I have a true, though slightly weird, phobia about anyone touching my nails. It stems from my parents not paying too close attention to me while growing up, and so I got into watching a lot of inappropriate horror movies, especially the ‘Saw’ franchise and any of Rob Zombie’s movies. I credit having watched those films as the reasons why I can no longer stand gore in horror movies, nor do I like when anyone other than myself touches my nails, as I have this abnormal fear that they will rip the nail off and, I dunno, torture me or something.

It usually not that big of a deal. I just cannot go and ever get a manicure or pedicure, which is fine by me. But I also kinda dislike whenever people click their nails together, but that’s probably more so a personal preference in not enjoying that sound rather than a fear….though I’d say it stems from my fear of people touching my nails in some way.

The two fears have little to do with one another, other than the fact that they’ll elicit the same sort of heart-palpitating anxiety from me, and I’ll just start to shut down and want to be left alone more so than normal. So yeah, I guess just never ask me to speak in public or try to touch my nails, and I think we’re good, since I cannot see a scenario for the rest of my life where either of those things would be necessary to do in order to live a fulfilled sort of life.

June 2, 2024

Not All Fears Fit in Your Pocket

Daily writing prompt

What fears have you overcome and how?

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Leo wakes to the soft chime of his alarm, a sound that blends seamlessly with the gentle rustle of leaves outside his window. The day is charged with a subtle electricity, as if the air itself is holding its breath.

For as long as Leo can remember, spiders had been his constant dread, weaving webs of fear in the corners of his mind. The fear of real spiders, with their many legs and quick movements, and the fear of imagined ones, lurking in the shadows of his thoughts—all intertwining to form an invisible web around him. But today, he senses a shift, a readiness to face the shadows that have haunted his dreams.

Yet still, he must confront his fear. In the attic of his house, where boxes of forgotten memories gather dust, lies the heart of his fear. He approaches the narrow staircase, feeling the cool wooden banister under his fingertips, and takes a deep breath. Each step upward is a challenge, the air growing thicker, the light dimmer. The higher he climbs, the more the familiar world below becomes a distant memory, a surreal landscape that blurs the lines between reality and imagination.

At the top, he finds himself facing the darkened attic door. A tight knot in his stomach forms, but he knows he must continue. He closes his eyes and lets the darkness envelop him, realizing that the shadows, while real, do not have to control him.

Pushing the door open, Leo steps into the attic, his flashlight piercing the gloom. The first spider he sees is small, hanging delicately in its web. His instinct is to recoil, but he forces himself to stay. He watches it, studying its movements, understanding its place in the world. The fear remains, but it is tempered by curiosity, by the realization that this small creature has no power over him.

As Leo continues to explore the attic, he finds more spiders, each one a little larger and more intimidating than the last. He encounters a tarantula, its hairy legs moving slowly across the floor, and a black widow, its red hourglass glinting ominously in the light. He feels his pulse quicken, but he takes deep breaths, reminding himself that he is in control.

Descending the stairs, Leo feels lighter, as if he has shed an invisible weight. The next challenge lies in the foyer, where spiders spin their webs since he could remember. Not allowing him to pass. A silky barrier to the outside.

From the shadows, a spider of emerges, a creature woven from his deepest fears. It is large, menacing, yet strangely beautiful. He does not recognize this spider. But the spider knows Leo. He stands his ground, his fear palpable, but mixed with a sense of determination. He speaks to it, not with words, but with the strength of his presence. The creature, sensing his resolve, begins to shrink, becoming less monstrous, more manageable.

As Leo stares into the spider’s many eyes, he sees reflections of his own fear, his own vulnerability. He understands that the spider is a part of him, a manifestation of his deepest anxieties. By confronting it, he is confronting himself. He reaches out a hand, and the spider crawls onto it, its movements no longer threatening, but almost gentle. He feels a strange connection to the creature, a sense of empathy and understanding.

Leaving the foyer, Leo walks with newfound confidence. He has confronted his fear for the day. He stared into the many eyes of that fear and not blinked, so to speak.

As he moves forward, the shapes grow clearer—phantoms of dread, shadows of past anxieties, specters of his imagination. But with each step, his confidence fades, unable to withstand the light poking through the front door.

Escape, he tells himself. Walk out the door and face what comes. But a small, invisible hand holds him back. The hand belongs to a specter of his young self pulling him back into the house, back upstairs, back into the comfort of his room.

Leo tells himself he’s done enough for the day. He’s faced enough spiders as is. Perhaps tomorrow he will brave his fears again. Perhaps tomorrow he will open the door and walk out to face the world’s spiders. Perhaps…

March 26, 2024

the danger the puffs up its chest

a gentle push into the night
that never darkens, while perfumed silhouettes
dance along the edge of a cliff made to look more dangerous than it is,
but really, someone will catch them if they fall,
or not, i didn’t stick around to see the ending

Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: fear

January 31, 2025