Writing Prompt

STORY STARTER

An irrational fear has always stopped you doing a certain activity with your friends. Today, you decide you're going to face that fear...

Writings

Acrophobia

I’ve decided that I’m going to get over my fear of heights. Today. No matter what.

My friends all think I’m silly. Afraid of heights. But it’s not silly. It’s a phobia. Acrophobia. So it’s irrational. Therefore, it cannot be silly. By definition. But they, whoever they are, say you can overcome phobias. Just get out there and do something that might help. Go to a high hill and look over the city. Jump off a high dive. Well, maybe a low dive would be a better first step. I know. I tell myself all the time that that is crazy. After all, the low dive is only a meter above the water. Three feet! It is crazy. Okay. Not crazy. Just a phobia. An irrational fear. Irrational. So the only way to get rid of an irrational fear is to do something rational. Something that helps me conquer that fear.

A couple weekends ago, the guys went up to the Space Needle. I know. It’s only 604 feet tall. But that is crazy tall. Especially since they have floors made of glass or whatever that transparent material is. Ugh. I couldn’t do that. I made up some excuse.

I realized I was right to bail when just looking at their pictures made me break out in a cold sweat.

This weekend though, I’m going with them. We’re going skydiving. Nothing too high. Just a static line jump. One thousand feet in the air or something like that. But you don’t really need to do anything. I imagine it’s like those old war movies. They hook your line up to some cable on the airplane and they push you out. The chute deploys and you enjoy the scenery on your way down. The only thing scary is that first instant when you’re out of the plane. I hope. I suppose that the height will be scary too, but the scenery will be amazing. I hope I don’t throw up or pass out on the way down. I just gotta remember that I’m doing this because it’s rational to want to overcome an irrational fear.

Sounds like they’re here.

“You ready for this?” Rob is always ready for everything. His eyes are bright and shining. He looks excited.

“No.”

They all laugh. Rob grabs my backpack and tosses it in the back of his SUV. “Hop in. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

I didn’t think anything of his comment. But it is six in the morning. On a Saturday. Rob said that the training was early, so we had to leave early. I hope in and am stuck in the very back. A couple of the guys had to hop out for me to get in and they hop in after me. I’m sure they had it planned that way. They don’t want me trying to escape. After all, I don’t have a phobia of jumping out of a moving vehicle.

I buckle up and we’re off.

Rob shouts from the front of the vehicle as we start moving, “I told everybody that you had to sit in the back because while you may have a fear of heights, also called acrophobia, you do not have a fear of jumping out of moving vehicles. I have no idea what that might be called.”

“Sanity,” says Carl.

I laugh with everybody else, especially since I had the exact same thought. I smile. This will be a fun trip.

I look out the window as is my norm on any car trip. I notice something odd as we approach the freeway.

“Hey Rob, aren’t we going the wrong way? Isn’t the skydiving place north of here?”

“No and yes.” I see Rob’s eyes in the rear view mirror. He is looking back every so often so he can talk to me. “No. We are not going the wrong way. And yes, the skydiving place is north of here.”

“Uh. So where are we going?” I‘m confused.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Rob’s voice sounds sincere, but his eyes have mischief in them.

“No. You know you didn’t tell me.”

“Right. I must have forgotten.” The mischief has gotten into his voice now. We are on the freeway and Rob has navigated to a comfortable place in the traffic. “We’re not going skydiving. We figured it was too high. After all, you couldn’t go up the Space Needle which is only 600 feet.”

“Six-hundred and four feet.”

“Right. Six-hundred and four feet. So we figured going up a thousand feet or more was too much.”

“So…”

The other guys were giggling like they did when we were kids.

“So we’re going south to go bungee jumping.”

Rob eyes were smiling. Our other friends were laughing. But all they seemed far away. All I could hear was myself screaming.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Don't Ask Me To Wordle

My friends have been doing a popular puzzle from the newspaper every day for many months. They have asked me what my daily score is, assuming that of course I participate in this activity. What my friends don't understand is that I have a deep pathological fear of spelling in front of others.

This fear goes back to my childhood, when people in my fourth grade class were required to participate in the citywide spelling bee. As it happens, I am an astoundingly good speller. Astoundingly good, that is, unless I am asked to spell a word in front of others. If I spell by myself, alone in a room, I can spell anything. The most difficult, arcane, or strange word presents no difficulty at all. But if I'm asked by a second person to spell in front of a third person, all bets are off. The simple requirement that I spell in front of another person chases any skill at all out of my head immediately.

This fear started especially because we were called upon the spell in front of the class. Those who couldn't do it right away were targeted for scorn and ridicule. a whole class full of of Children pointing and laughing at you is enough to drive anyone towards A psychological break.

Sometimes I test myself. I'll listen to a movie or TV show or podcast and wait for them to pronounce a difficult word. I will write that difficult word down and check it with an online dictionary. I have always, always spell the word correctly.

And now more than ever, I am afraid of spelling in front of anyone else. I have had friendships ended because of this phobia. It is a fear that is ended relationships.

I must only be a secret spellerthat's the only way.

I Mean, I Guess, but Never Again.

No. No. No,no,no,no,no! NO! NOOOO!

You can’t make me go!

You! Can’t! Make! Me! Gooo!

“Oh my god, Lena, stop being so dramatic, it’s okay,” Ainsley says, dragging my thrashing body away from the entrance to the ride. “You don’t hafta come with us, y’know. You can join us later, like usual.”

I hadn’t realised I’d said all that out loud.

‘Get. Yourself. To-ge-ther!’ I screamed to me. Me, it would seem, did not like all my yelling, I screamed back:

‘I am being perfectly rational, Lena! It’s a friggin’ 80-foot drop, for crying out loud! You’re the one who needs to pull yourself together. I can’t believe you actually agreed to go on a crazy amusement park ride. You know you hate those!’

‘Yeah, well, I’m sick and tired of my friends always going off and leaving me alone at parks. For once I wanna join them! Make some memories, you know?’

‘Oh, you’ll make some memories, all right. When you end up in the hospital-‘

“Lena! Stop talking- er, thinking, to yourself, you can do this!” Ainsley puts her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. “I. Believe. In. You!”

“I don’t.” Carter says, pulling off a fragment of cotton candy from the huge sugary cloud he holds in his hands.

“Okay, first of all, Carter, not helping! This is a very momentous day for Lena, she’s facing her fears! You know how scared she is of hights. Remember last year? She was practically having a seizure, she was shaking so much.”

“Oh, yeah! I ‘member. She was screaming and crying.”

“Okay, you guys-“ I start, embarrassed. They don’t appear to hear me.

“Yeah. And when she said she wanted to go to that gathering, I was all like, ‘You sure, Lena?’ And she said, ‘Yeah, I’m sure!’ an’ then we get there, and she wouldn’t even go in!”

“Introverts,” Carter snickers.

“Really,” Ainsley says, then turns back to me and smiles, “‘Kay, you sure you wanna do this, Lena? Like I said, you don’t hafta.”

“I am choosing to ignore that comment, Carter. Yes, Ainsley, I want to do this.”

Oh, no. What have I done?

“You sure, sure?” Ainsley’s trying her best to hide it, but I can tell she’s ecstatic I’m trying something new.

Okay. Okay, Lena, you can do this.

“Yep. Positive!”

“Right! Okay! Yay! This’ll be so much fun! Carter, stop eating that, food isn’t allowed on the rides, you know this.”

Carter shrugs and sets off to find a trash can. I size up the terrible tower of doom- sorry, I mean the giant set of swings. The oh-so fun ride, where you spin ‘round and ‘round till you feel so dizzy and disoriented you think your head’ll fall off. Maybe we should check out the coasters instead! The one where it starts off slow, painstakingly going upward, like climbing up a mountain, till you reach the summit, and then you pummel down, and the adrenaline is kicking you right in the heart, and then you find yourself upside down and-

No, Lena! You’ll be fine! And if you’re not, you’ll have the perfect excuse to never leave your house again!

Carter runs back to us, wiping his sticky hands on his jeans, “Alright! Lena, I swear you’re gonna ha- I mean, love this ride. The swings only go so far, so it’s great for amateurs.”

I start laughing hysterically. Ainsley grabs us and pulls us into the line. Aaaand, right about then is when my panic alarms set off. Well, set off again, if I’m being honest.

No! No! No! Leeeeeennnnnaaaaaaa! Be smart! Don’t do this! Please! Pleaseeeeeeee!

“You guys going on the ride together?” asks the Bringer of Death, also known as the ride operator.

How’d the line move so fast?!? How are we here already?!? I’m not prepared for this!

“Yessir,” Ainsley calls to him, already moving past the opening gates.

“Ainsley! Carter! No! I change my mind!”

“Too late. C’mon, Lena, you can do this, ‘n all that.” Carter takes lead and we find our seat.

“If we die, I am blaming all of this on you! All of it!” I shriek.

“Whatever you say, Lena.” Ainsley claps her hands in excitement.

“Well, you couldn’t, could you, Lena? You’d be dead.” Carter rests his hands behind his head.

———————————————————————

“Soooooo…” Ainsley nudges me, “What did you think?”

I don’t answer, preoccupied with trying to ease my clanging nerves.

“She loved it, can’t you tell?” Carter, somehow, has obtained more cotton candy, despite us just getting off the ride. “Wanna go on the roller coaster next?”

“No! Absolutely not! I object to this torture! I promise, I’ll live out my days, content to wait at the entryway of rides for you guys! Just, never again!”

“Well, maybe-“

“No! I was on the precipice of eternal darkness the entire time!”

“Yeah, you almost fainted, didn’t you?” Carter offers me a piece of cotton candy. I decline, my stomach way too uneasy.

“But, wasn’t it worth it, facing your fears?” Ainsley steals the package of cotton candy from Carter.

Ha. That’s funny. “I mean, I guess, but never again.”

(Sorry, this is kind of long.)

I Hate People

“Come on it will be fun!”

“It won’t.”

“Yes it will, don’t be boring.”

Reason number 1: if you feel the need to get absolutely shit faced and snort half of Columbia on a night out to “have fun” then maybe you’re the boring one.

“Ugh. If I go out this once then I never have to again.”

“Fine, deal.”

Reason number 2: The Slug & Lettuce just gives me Love Island vibes. I don’t know why it just does. Every “lad” in their dresses the exact same. They’ve been to the gym, only ever bench pressed and bicep curled, you can tell from the skin tight black jeans they are wearing that they’ve never done cardio or done leg day once. They wear a white shirt that is ridiculously tight around their arms, short sleeved because they need to have their tatted up arms out. Now I have no issue with tattoos, I have plenty, but when you and your entire group of mates have all got the exact same design finishing off with a rose on your hand you look like a bunch of dickheads. Now the age of these “beys” varies from 18-30. At 18 I get it, at 30, get your life together. You look ridiculous. Then you have the girls. Girls vary a little bit more. You have the 18 year olds who have made way to much effort, the 22-26 year olds who for most of the time have got it right but then their personality is the same as the girls on love island who suddenly act like wisemen (or women) when their “friend” has been cheated on and they all do that drunk kinda thing where they shout over each other, call each other babe and say how they’ll always be there for one another. And then you have the over 30’s who are usually recently divorced, single mums who think that the 18 year olds that are ‘flirting’ with them actually fancy them and that they ‘still have it.’ You don’t girls, it’s just banter. Grow up.

“See I told you it would be fun!”

“I would rather be dead.”

Reason Number 3: The conversations you hear … oh my god. Lads trying to be impressive to the table of girls half a mile away by shouting in their deepest, roadmanist (?) voice about all the absurd shit they’ve done recently.

“Oi lads lads, oi! Do you remember that time J was doing the roof at work and we fuckin’ pushed him off?! Ey ey! Hahaha fuckin’ mad one, the bell is still in ICU haha!”

Listen boys, if you want to go and talk to the girls, go and talk to them. Your stories about being lads aren’t actually impressing anyone, all everyone is thinking is ‘what a bunch of cocks.’ And not in a good way.

Girls are also just as bad, they also tell stories really loudly to each other to try and get the attention of the boys. It’s almost like watching a mating ritual on David Attenborough, it’s just a shame neither sex does when the deed is done like some animals.

A few hours later and my nightmare is nearly over. This is the worst bit though, leaving. Not because I don’t want to. Oh no, I was mentally in my bed with a book 2 hours ago. No it’s the fact that everyone who you have been watching and judging all night have now become way to friendly as they are all, and I believe this is the technical term, ‘drunk as fuck.’

“Oh shit, sorry mate sorry, I didn’t mean to knock in you.”

“It’s fine … please get your hand off me … no I don’t want a hug … no I don’t want to be friends, fuck off”

You see girls and guys who have met 20 minutes before spending doubly as long saying goodbye to each other and getting one another’s Snapchat details so they can not message each other the next day when one of them realised that they could have done a lot better and ‘omg I can’t drink again’. I hate it. I hate people.

“So did you have a good time?”

“…yeah actually, I did.”