Don’t go into the empty train compartment, the voices whisper in your ear.

“There’s a pineapple in there!” They scream hysterically.

Squealing, laughing... at you.

Your breath hitches and your heart thumps defiantly in your chest.

‘You’ll never get out!’ they assure you. Goosebumps tickle your neck as you look behind you.

They’re everywhere now.

Crawling, wriggling.

You won’t escape.

It’s all just a dream... just a dream.

You tell yourself this, over and over.

Oh, how ironic the reassurance!

There’s laughing, but it’s not from you.

You finally will your legs to run, and so now you’re running.... the tunnel is damp, black.

At least it should be.

But all you see are pineapples, spiked and fresh.

Breakfast?

Ha!

You think not.

There’s no escape but oddly, you still run.

Numb, desperate.

Afraid.

All the better, I say.

You’re sobbing like a scolded child now, pleading for god to save you, to have mercy on your soul.

As if that ever works.

Your stumbling, your body flinging itself to no exit.

You fall.

Obviously.

You’re in a fetal position now, crying.

Again.

You’re quickly starting to irritate me.

Stop it.

Of course you won’t.

You try to get up as I walk, closer.

Step by step.

You’ve wet yourself.

Gross.

Too bad.

I’ve reached you now, and there’s nothing you can do.

I reach into my pocket as you stare, frozen, at the smiling mask concealing my identity.

Mmm, where is it?

Ah, there it is!

I whisk a yellow flower from my pocket.

Slightly wilted, but still beautiful.

I reach out, offering you a gift.

You pass out.

———————

Xena had just watched this kid-Max, according to his papers- wet himself.

She crossed him off the list.

The simulation had lasted 3 minutes.

This kid was afraid of yellow, pineapples, dark tunnels and Halloween masks.

4 fears.

4 fears too many.

Max exited the simulation, blushing in embarrassment as he realised not everything was just a figment of the imagination.

“Sorry kiddo. Can’t take candidates who can’t control their bladder. But you can do exposure therapy. Trust me, it’ll help. Should we book another session for next year?”

Max gulped, nodding, then quickly rushed out.

Guess that’s it, she supposed.

Sighing as she began cleaning the mess, she wondered which fearful child dared play next.