What are you afraid of?
I am afraid of the dark. But even more so, I am petrified of Moths. Moths scare the CRAP out of me. Oh my gosh. I can hold spiders all day long, and I've owned snakes for years. I can do bugs and those little skeeter eaters just fine... But I draw the line at moths. My family always starts cracking up when I freak out during dinner because a moth flew into my face. I've choked many, MANY a time on my dinner because a moth has decided to fly into my hair. My lord...
One night at the barn I was at, a few friends and I stayed up late to go through our tack shed. The barn was privately owned and my best friend lived on the property, so we could pull all nighters and sleep in the stalls and no one really cared. So her and her husband are outside going through a shed trying to find a hammer while I'm in the tack shed getting the nails. (we were putting up plyboard because my goat kept getting out...) Well I'm standing in the darkness trying to find the nails when all of a sudden this huge black thing come flying at me. Alright, it's a bat (I THINK!) It lands on my arm and I shew it away. I was wrong. It wasn't a bat it was a freaking moth! My hand touched it and it started crawling up my arm with it's stupid little gangly legs attached to my sweater. It's fat little body was all twitching and it's coming up to my face and I'm panicking so I scream bloody murder. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I hear someone outside say "Oh ****..." and my best friends husband runs into the tack shed, thinking something is wrong with me he yells if I'm okay. By now I'm sobbing. He doesn't understand. I yell at him to get it off of me. He asks me what he needs to get off of me. I tell him "THE MOTH!" I'm still sobbing. So I think he's going to save me right? Pull the hideous creature off of me and squish it, right? Wrong. He's on his knees in laughter. He then proceeds to leave the tack shed still laughing hysterically, grab a camera, and take a series of pictures of me crying holding my arm out with the hugest moth I've ever seen latched onto my sweater.
It was even worse when two days later those pictures came up on his facebook AND myspace. He then posted them to mine. Jerk face.
So what are your irrational fears?
"I was eight years old, and I've never forgotten her face when she told me about watching you ride. She told me she saw you, and your horse was dancing in the moonlight."
-- A.C. Crispin's "Sylvester"