4 PHOBIA  

jasonabadboy4u 30M
48 posts
6/11/2006 3:55 am
4 PHOBIA

4 PHOBIA
This Story Was influenced And Dedicated To The IRON MAIDEN Song FEAR OF THE DARK.
Many people have a phobia - an unnatural fear they can't control, but Damiea's phobia bordered on the fringe of madness. She would go into hysteria even at the sight of a small fieldmouse. Perhaps she had a right to be afraid, after what happened that night. It was twilight when Damiea left the small restaurant where she had worked at. The restaurant stood on one side of the large city park. And because it was a warm summer night, Damiea decided to walk through the park to her home on the other side. She started down a path overhung by leafy trees. It was surprisingly dark on the path, dark enough to make Damiea feel uneasy. She quickened her pace, thinking she should get to the other side of the park as soon as possible. She had heard stories about things, unpleasant things, that happened to people wondering in the park at night. Then, coming out of the shaded path into an open area, she saw the sky was still light. She decided to walk a little slower, but she couldn't completely forget her uneasiness, or the stories. She walked on through the park, toward the river in the middle. Soon, another path loomed ahead, shaded by thick trees. Damiea Looked in the distance down the path. No one seemed to be on it. She looked behind her, wondering if she should turn around. By now, though, she had walked into the center of the park. There was no point in turning back. Once on the shaded path, she could hear no sounds but the rustle of trees. The sounds of the city were drowned out here. Damiea walked on, listening to the leaves whispering in the night air. She felt as though she were a thousand miles from civilization. But then her ears picked up another sound. It wasn't a sound from the city outside and it wasn't a sound from the trees, either. She listened to her own footsteps on the cement path. She told herself that was what she had heard. But no, she heard it again, an echo of her own footsteps behind her. She was sure of it now, there were other footsteps, following her. Fear crept into her mind. It made her heart pound and her legs walk faster. Soon, Damiea knew she had reason to be afraid. The footsteps behind were keeping pace with hers; they had quickened with her own. She kept herself from running, knowing she must not show her fear; she knew she must stay in control of herself. Forcing her legs to slow down, she realized the footsteps behind her were not slowing down. They came up from behind, quickly, eagerly. Damiea couldn't control her fear any longer. She broke into a run down the path. The footsteps didn't follow right away. But then, over the pounding of her heart, she heard them hitting the pavement, fast and steady. Ahead, Damiea saw the path that went down to the river. She knew that people more often came to the river than to any other place in the park. She ran down a small hill toward the river. As she rounded a corner, her heart sank. The path by the river was deserted, too. And now, the footsteps behind her were coming down the hill and were catching up with her. Damiea looked around wildly. There was a dense area of bushes and trees to her left. She ran on a few steps and then threw herself into hiding in the bushes. Maybe, she hoped, the footsteps would go by. It was dark by now. Only a half moon penetrated the night with its mellow light. Damiea heard the footsteps first, then she saw the shadow that belonged to them. The man stopped walking twenty feet from where she was hiding. He stood silent for a minute with his back to her. Then he walked over to a bench at the river's edge. He sat down on it. In the bushes, Damiea sat shivering in fear. She wondered why she had ever stopped running. Nothing could be worse than this. The man must know she was hiding. Was he going to wait it out--until she couldn't stand to hide any longer? Then Damiea thought of a chance. Others might walk along the path. She would jump out of the bushes then and walk with them out of the park. She looked over at the man on the bench again. He sat calmly looking out at the river. Something caught her eye. There was a small shadow moving along the water's edge. It stopped. Silhouetted against the sky, Damiea could see the head of a large rat. She started to get up off the ground. That was always her reaction to mice--to stand on a chair, to get up off the floor in any way possible. But now, she couldn't get up. And she couldn't let loose the scream choking in her throat. As in a bad nightmare, three more rats joined the one by the river. Damiea could see their fat shadows and their ugly rodent heads in the moonlight. And she could hear the clatter of their claws on the cement path. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run. But the bigger shadow on the bench scared her more. He sat still on the bench, the rats not more than five feet away from him. He must see them, Damiea thought. What kind of man is he? She switched her eyes back to the rats. They hypnotized her with loathing fear. She heard a rustle in the bushes, not more than two feet from her. She had to gag her mouth with her sweater to keep from screaming. What if a rat came up to her? What if it jumped on her with its sharp claws? Then, with horror, Damiea saw that the four rats by the river's edge were coming toward her. Their sharp rodent noses were pointing at her. Their long tails were switching back and forth. Damiea screamed. She saw the shadow on the bench stand up. It started to come at her toward the bushes. She struggled to her feet. As she took a step backwards, her foot fell into a deep hole. It was a rat's nest. Dozens of baby rats squealed in panic and crawled out of the hole around her foot. They were everywhere, scuttling away in desperation. Damiea jerked her foot out of the hole. One of the baby rats had climbed up her leg, and Damiea screamed and screamed again. Then Damiea saw the shadow of the man moving closer and closer to her. She struggled to get out of the bushes, although her knees were weak with fear. Finally, she pushed her way through the thick branches and stepped onto the path going back up the hill. The man had seen her. He came nearer. There, in the pale moonlight, Damiea saw his face. Her body was filled with revulsion. It was the face of a huge rat, its whiskers twitching. Damiea ran. Terror, mindless terror, carried her down the path out of the park. She did not hear footsteps following behind her. All she heard was the high, unnatural squeal of rats. Damiea ran on and on until she escaped finally, from the park. But the rat, she never really escaped him. He is still there . . . . in her mind.


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