Sunday, December 7, 2008

Michele K.

First off, I’m afraid of clowns. So much so I wouldn’t take my kids to the circus (my husband would have to). But it must be hereditary, since my mother is afraid, my grandmother was afraid, too. Maybe something happened to an ancestor of ours by a clown. When the book “It” came out, I was convinced that it was a ‘magic’ book, and that whatever anyone’s fear was, that was the antagonist. And since mine was clowns…

Secondly, I am just as deathly afraid of bees and wasps. I see one, and I literally run away. Trash cans surrounded by those bees are pure hell for me. I knew my husband was the man for me when we were dating, we were in his car and a wasp flew in the window and hit my chest. I’m screaming like I’ve been stabbed, and he simply reaches over with his bare hand, grabs it, and throws it out the window. Yes, he was stung; no, I wasn’t. But I knew then this was the man I was going to marry.

Thirdly, I am afraid of “under the bed”. Married twenty-plus years now, our bed is on the floor. We have the uber-tall box springs and mattress, but they sit on the floor so that there’s no ‘under the bed’ space. I’m afraid something will reach out from under and grab me. Also going along with that is the shower drain. Anytime I turn my back to the drain, such as to rinse my hair out, I get the creepies, thinking that something is going to reach up through the drain and grab me and drag me in…and the visual is not a very pretty one. Thank you so much, Stephen King

1 comment:

Edward said... must be hereditary...

...or more likely when you were a young and impressionable child you noticed how your mother reacted to clowns with apprehension and thus associated them with something potentially harmful.

I'm no psychologist but that explanation sounds more plausible than 'fear of clowns' being a genetic trait.