Phobia

Phobia



Lygophobia

Darkness...
All inclosing darkness...
Squeaks, drips, noises coming imageless out of the darkness.

His mind is cloudy. Can not think straight. Slowly he drags himself
out of the dreamless but horrid sleep. He tries to run the grogginess
out of his head. He opens his eyes.. I can not see! He thinks.
Moments pass and still no vision. Then he realizes theres no light.
He fumbles around in his pockets while wondering how and why he is
here. He finds his keys, wallet, and cell phone. Nothing stolen or
missing. What was he doing here in this place with nothing missing?
He gropes around in the darkness for a light switch on the wall. It
takes a few moments of fumbling through foul sludge water to find a
wall. He follows it for a long time, finding no light switch. He
remembered the small keyhole finder light on his key chain. He
depresses the soft button, the two little led's low light output
almost blinding him. He shines it around slowly on the floor. What
he sees is horrible.
Mold, slim and rat droppings. He shines the light towards the wall.
More slim and mold on the walls. Pipes running along the ceiling were
covered with hard water stains and the same mold. Mold hanging from
the pipes looking like frozen drops of water about to drop.
Everything looked like an infection waiting to take his life away.
How am I gonna get out? 'Help!' 'Get me out of here!... The last
here echoing through the darkness, showing how big the space was.
What's in here? Who might be hiding in the darkness watching him?
What kind of mutated animal might be stalking him right now through
the horrid silence?
He now frantically shines the miniscule light through the darkness,
searching through the blackness. His heart hammers in his throat, he
begins to hyper-ventilate. 'I hate the dark!, he screams. He feels
the darkness enveloping him, squeezing him. Suddenly, he can't
breathe at all.
I've got to get out of here! He thinks. I hate the dark. The light
from his key light gave him little comfort from the blackness and what
it held. He used the feeble light to search along the walls and tried
to find either a light switch, or a way out. He found no light
switch. But, he found his way out to be a heavy and tightly locked
steel door. He panicked when he found this, began pounding on the
door, screaming 'Help me please, someone'. He pounded till he was
tired then slumped to the floor crying, his hands bruised and
bleeding.
Moments pass as he sits on the floor, the blood on his hands unwiped
and caking. He has a headache now, a big one. He hears sounds, from
all around. Some are animal and insect, some he is not so sure. His
heart begins to race again, intensifying his headache. He curls
himself closer, wondering what monsters are roaming in the dark.
He tries to tell himself nothing bad is out there. No need to be
afraid of the dark. He had gotten over that after seeing a doctor in
his mid twenties, I was that bad then. Nightlights, and not being
alone at night. The, key light began to dim and brought him away from
his memories, and bringing him back to the pressing blackness, inches
away.
He fumbles through his pockets for his cell phone. He presses a button
on the outside, a bit of light there. He opens it and bit of paper
flutters to the floor. He cautiously bends over and picks it up.
Using the little light on his cell phone, he reads the one
sentence,'You got over your fears once, this time its get rid of them
for good or you die.'
He reads it again, then lets it drop again to the floor. Using his
cell phone again as a light, he searches the walls for ducts or
pipe ways through the walls. No luck there. He crunches through sewer
filth and droppings, wondering where he must be. He will never find
out. The low battery light just came on. He only has a few minutes
left. He noticed a bit of movement and quickly turned. A large rat
went walking by, eye flashing dimly in the light. His phone beeps
once, then again. Then his world goes dark again.
He tries not to panic, and succeeds for a while. But, then he began
to hear faint echoing noises in the darkness. The squeaks and groans
and drips begin to invade his conscience once the light has gone. He
sits on the cold slimy floor, cold sweet pouring out all over his
body. He forgot all about the note that was left for him. All he
cared about now was getting out and what exactly were making those
horrible noises.
Nausea overwhelmed him as a horrible feeling of dread gripped his
being. He imagined the darkness encompassing him. Tendrils of
darkness wrapping around him, take his fear and sending it to the
black nothingness around him. This fear, transformed into a negative
energy, set out to get him. He suddenly moved forward, to were he
thought the wall was. Suddenly, was surrounded by strong thin strands!
He could feel them clinging to his body, sticking to his face, the
darkness trying to get inside. His screams reverberated through the
cavernous black sightless room.
He moved backwards, walking, tearing at his face, trying to remove the
deadly grip of the dark. A moment later, something gripped his shoe
and he feel onto his back. He tried to move against the combined mud,
slime and all other toilet matter the trench held. His thrashings
only made it worse. The darkness was upon him, he was going to die.
He tried to scream, but only a loud gurgle escaped his lips. The
sludge darkness had filled his mouth, trying to take him. His pounding
heart tried beating faster, pumped more adrenaline. It only served to
send him deeper into the two foot trench.


Claustrophobia

Trapped..
No where to go, no way to escape..
Stifling, suffocating, crushing stationary walls

Swimming, slowly rising from a deep restless slumber. Uncomfortable,
like sleeping in the same spot all night, not being able to turn over.
Sleep slowly giving way to consciousness. Eyes slowly open, side of
the head laying against the floor. Sleep clouds the eyes, only able
to make out light and dark..

He brings the hand closest to his face to rub his eyes clear. His
body is stiff as a board, like sleeping on the hard ground for hours.
After the futile attempt to clear his eyes, he thinks washing them out
to be the best way. He then proceeds to roll onto his back. Or at
least try. As he goes to roll over, half way his shoulder hits
something above him. 'What the hell? He says out loud, thinking the
same. He reaches up behind him to find out what was above him. He
didn't hear the shelf above fall or anything while he was sleeping.
Panic begins to creep into his body. He struggles to focus on
something, tries roll over to his back, but can't. 'Shit' he screams.
He slid on his stomach trying to find a way out from under this
horror.
After a few minutes of crawling around blindly, his vision clears a
bit. His panic is suppressed a bit by curiosity. 'This looks like
being underneath a bed,' he thought. With that the childhood horror
of being trapped under his bed after a slat hold the mattress broke
and held him there. Now, it was worse, no one was here to help. No one
was around to hear his cries of help. What to do?
His vision had cleared a bit more as the adrenaline cleared his mind
for nothing but escape. He noticed what appeared to be the bottom of
a door. He oriented himself to face the direction. He paid no
attention when he hit his head along the way. Blood being to run down
his face, into his eyes. He would wipe it, but that only made his
slow progress forward worse.
Finally he was near the end of this horrible 'ceiling' above him. It
was in fact a door. He crawled to the edge and was able to see up for
the first time. There was a wall all the way up to the real ceiling,
10 feet up. There was barely a foot between the walls. He had to
slide all the way against the wall with the door to get out from under
the fake ceiling. He had to lay against the whole wall, then stand up
sideways. That felt better. But, then he realized he was still
constricted.
As a new and different panic gripped him he moved quickly towards the
door. He reached it, unlocked and opened it. It opened less than 10.
Less with the doorknob. He glanced in the room. Open, oh sweet
heaven, with another door. He began to slide through the door. But
the door knob held. He tried harder and harder to push through. The
door knob was keeping him from being crushed! He kicked inward on the
doorknob, in a few quick panicked thrusts, the doorknob didn't break
off, but it was moved out of the way a bit more. He threw himself at
the doorway, his breath shortening from fear and exertion. He pushed
hard. The doorknob held against his ribs. Harder and harder he
pushed until he felt a snap and he slid into the room.
He feel into a heap of fading terror but unbearable pain. He screamed
and held at his broken rib for a couple of minutes till his brain
released the proper chemicals.
After the tears cleared from his eyes, he was able to see the room he
had entered. It was barren and painted white. It had four doors
including the one that had broken his ribs. He rose slowly from where
he laid on the floor, his side a blaze of pain. The pain he ignored
as a sense of urgency rose in him. He needed to get out. He hobbled
over slowly to one of the doors, holding his side. He tried the knob,
locked. Moving at a fast walk, he crossed the room to try another,
with the same result. He jugged to the next, pain forgotten. He
grabbed the knob. It didn't turn, but he pulled, pulled hard. He
tugged again, sweat hands pulled free and he landed hard on his
backside. The wind was knocked out of him and his broken rib ground
together. He looked to the last door, the one he had come through.
It was closed. The knob was bent and probably broken beyond hope,
but he tried it anyway. It turned. At first to his surprise, almost
bringing a smile to his face. But, the knob continued to turn,
catching nothing. Trapped! He thought. I can't get out! He began
kicking at the doors. He kicked at all the doors with all he had. It
only got him more pain.
He sat in a corner, holding his ribs, pain blinding him. His vision
finally cleared as did his mind. He sat rocking back and forth, arms
around his stomach. I am stuck...I can't get out. He was staring at
the walls. Then he noticed the room seemed smaller. I had ran across
it earlier, he thought. With that, the walls slowly began to creep
toward him. Not sliding, but everything around him shrinking. 'oh my
god!' he yelled. I can't stop this he thought, nothing he could do..
With that, the walls moved faster around him. They pressed closer
towards him, he screamed as loud as he could, split his throat,
quieting him. Coughing up blood, and doing his best with a soundless
breathing scream. In the end, he gave up as the alls closed in on
him...

Necrophobia

The dead....
Cold, unnerving, unmovingly dead..

He was walking along the sidewalk in the city. He had noticed that
the weather was changing. It was at night, and there had been a cool
breeze blowing. The breeze had subsided, allowing the warm, moist
night air to return. He looked up at the full moon, and noticed
clouds beginning to form. He looked back forward and continued to
walk toward his car. The date had been nice, but it was too soon for
him to settle down. The company was nice as was the alcohol.

As he approached the paid parking lot, he noticed a thick fog
beginning to push through the ten and twenty story buildings. Weird
he thought, but paid it no mind. As he continued to walk, the heavy
fog roiled on towards him, almost as thick as a wall. He stopped,
looking on in amazement. It seemed to gather speed as it got closer,
then finally enveloping him. He could see nothing. The only shapes
he could see were the tiny drops of water dancing in front of his eyes.
The only light, amazingly, was that from the moon. The fog was hot
and sticky, seeming to cling more heavily to him than it should. But,
he paid it no mind, for, nothing mattered at this moment.
So, he began to continue forward. He had to blindly grope his way
forward. He last remembered being near a wall, on his right. He
veered off to his right, hands out in front, hoping to find the wall,
the lot was just up ahead. Still walking right, he felt something
hard under foot, then a muffled crunch. As he lifted his foot for
another step, the crunched thing underfoot, almost made him slip. He
stopped to steady himself. Just then, a hard, cold wind began to blow.
The heavy fog that had been weighing him down began to lift and clear
swiftly.
Within a few moments, he was able to see clearly under the
light of the full moon. He was not anywhere near the city.
He seemed to be in a large parking lot. No lights or lines. Just an
open expanse of asphalt, like at an airport. He began to walk
forward. 'Hello?' he called, his echo the only person to answer. He stood disbelieving for a second. He strained his eyes trying to see off in the distance. Yes, he could see the lights of the city, or a city. “I must have passed out drunk,” he thought to himself. “I must look really silly laying there on the sidewalk. I should wake up soon before someone nabs my keys and wallet!” He started walking towards the orange light haze off in the distance.
He was walking at a steady pace, trying to keep his balance proper, he again stepped on something hard, with a hearty crunch. He stopped moving, remembering how he almost slipped last time. As his eyes adjusted to the darker ground, he looked down at what he had stepped on. It was a large beetle. “Oh man, wish I had not done that!” He scrapped his shoe on the asphalt and continued walking, this time searching the ground. This time as he continued forward, he was looking at the ground too, making sure there wasn’t anything else to slip him up.
After a minute, he saw another big bug, directly in his path. Dead. “I wish it weren’t dead. That way, it would just crawl away, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it.” He stepped gingerly around the dead insect. A moment later he came upon a scattering of them. “Oh my,” he thought, eyes wandering from insect to insect. Stepping cautiously, he picked up his pace a bit, to a brisk walk. Soon, the entire area was covered with the dead creatures. They were all on their backs, legs sticking in the air, almost as if to grab him and bring him down to be like them. His breath began to come too quickly. He was feeling even more light headed. “I need to slow down and think, or all this death is gonna get to me!” He kept telling himself that he had gotten over that, no reason to fear something that will never move again. So, with a bit of courage, he stoically walked through the sea of dead beetles, crickets, and other dead crawling insects. He finally came to the edge of the asphalt. He never noticed again the hot, sticky fog that crept upon him, almost like a tiger silently hunting its prey.
The thick mist again surrounded him, and he fought to gain a sense of where he was. He continued in the direction he had been heading, away from the dead, nasty parking lot. Trying not to run, for fear of stumbling, and also because he was feeling sick. The combination of panic and a couple drinks hadn’t helped any. As he walked through the knee high dry grass, it began to sway, and the same cool breeze blew back in, blowing in the dry stalks, rubbing them together. This produced almost a calming effect for him, until the fog cleared and he saw what lay before him.
He was at the edge of a field. The knee high grass he was in gave way to closely cropped prairie like grass. He had never seen a prairie before, being a city boy his whole life, he just assumed it was. He made this assumption based on the fact that there was livestock here. Unfortunately for him, there was no life in this livestock. Closest to him were sheep and a few pigs. They were dead for sure, not sleeping. The wind had changed direction, now the cool breeze brought him the scent of 4 day death. A scent of flesh being in the sun for 4 days. They were sure dead. The buzzing dots flying around their mouths ears and anus also gave more signs to the obvious. “Oh man, I do not want to go through that! But I have to get to the city, I want to be home!” he though to himself. So, after taking a deep breath, he gathered himself, and began walking around the dead animals, fearful he might catch their death somehow.
He was doing well as he started up a rise, the number of the dead animals had thinned a bit, easier to give wide berths to them. As he walked to the top of the rise, he stopped, and stared in horror and disbelief. “Who the hell did this, and why??” he thought, as he gazed upon the line of bloated, dead cows that totally blocked his straight path towards the orange glow of the city. He sat for a minute, disbelieving his situation. Trying to formulate a plan. Even now, more than one hundred yards away, he could smell them, almost hear the constant buzz of the little recyclers at work. Convincing himself that he could make it without having to touch any of the death, he took a few deep breaths and slowly, stood up, wobbling a bit. He slowly walked down towards the disgusting line of animals. He couldn’t think about how or why anymore. All he could do was hold his hand over his mouth and try to fight away tears, the stench was overpowering. He also began to worry about catching, “the death” again. He was about 20 yards away now, and he stopped. He tried his best to clear his eyes and to think about his plan. He planned to run as fast as he could to and jump over on of the animals, who seemed to be arranged head to tail, perfectly. He scanned for the “smallest one, still a little more than 3 feet high, laying on its side and bloated. In the night he could still make out the flying black dots in the moonlight.
He held his eyes closed tightly for a second, saying a pray to anyone who would listen. Then he sprang forward, as wobbly as any intoxicated person would. He accelerated then maintained a steady pace, fifteen yards, ten yards, five, three, two, jump! He tried to time it so that he would sail over the animal and hit in a roll, no way would he be able to land a jump like that, he was too out of shape. He was seemingly going to make it, but had missed judge the distance before the jump, and the height of the bloated cows stomach. His right foot caught a protruding rib, and his direction of travel was instantly changed towards a more harsher landing. His left arm and shoulder took most of the landing force, and luckily had on a light jacket, cause he slide for a bit as well.
“I don’t freakin believe this, what is going on?” he thought. He sat, rocking, holding his shoulder. After a few minutes had pasted and a bit of the pain had too, he painfully rose painfully to stand. He turned and realized that he had actually made it over without having to touch anything. “Man, this busted shoulder is better than having to touch any of those dead animals.” he thought. Again, he faced towards the light, he was still going in the right direction. Ahead of him, there was a stand of trees, poplars and pine. He started slowly towards them, the city limits must be close!!
Just as he was approaching the trees, he noticed that the branches and leaves began their soft sigh, with being blown by the wind. Suddenly, the wind ramped up in intensity. The wind was pushing from behind him, but he had made it to the trees already and step behind one of the older, taller ones, trying to avoid being pushed over. The he noticed the sticky fog rapidly filling in everything. He sat himself at the base of the tree to wait for the cold breeze to come and blow it away again. “When does this all stop?” he thought to himself, I didn’t do anything to anyone, why do I deserve this?”
He closed his eyes for a few minutes, waiting. The cool wind blew again, taking longer to come this time. It blew away the fog, revealing the most horrible sight in his life. He was in the middle of a graveyard. The tree which he had sat under was not the same. This one was a broad hardwood type of tree. It was dead. The gray and peeling branches, seemed to reach up into the sky to snatch down any unlucky bird, to their death. He did not notice. His attention was focused only on what now surrounded him. He and the dead tree were on a bit of a rise in the middle of a graveyard.
The graves looked ancient. The tall ones in limestone, angels perched on some looked to be crying with dark stains underneath their eyes. The moon light showed more than it should. There was something seriously wrong here. Graves where open, old and new. Not recently either, not piles of dirt besides the graves, just open holes. He noticed in some of the graves, the caskets seemed to have been just tossed in, and didn’t settle to the bottom. These caskets where open. He looked all around. There was a cool mist hanging around the graves. He tried to look for a way out. All he could see around him were the open graves. “Well shit..” he thought to himself, “Guess I will just go straight through, no way to get around this mess..” slowly he made his way down from the small rise with the dead tree. He limped down and the ground slowly leveled out. He came upon the first grave, and walked by, without glancing, the terror slowly trying to tear away the small bit of courage he had built up. As he walked past the second, then the third, curiosity had taken hold. He peered down into the grave. The headstone was old. The casket lay open, and inside lay a dirty, tattered clothed, smiling skeleton. He quickly backed away, shivering a bit. He walked away from the grave. He noticed a few newer stones as he quickly and carefully traversed the yard. These graves were, too, open. These newer ones were more shallow, a few of the caskets sitting at an angle in the grave, not all the way down. He sped up his pace, wanting desperately to get out of the graveyard.
As he ran, the graves seemed to get closer and closer. Their seemed to be more exposed corpses. The mist had gotten a bit thicker, making it harder to see. He moved along, ignoring all the dead around him, his terror growing. He could see that light getting closer, could almost hear the traffic in the distance. All he had to do was get to the grove of trees at the edge of the graveyard. The mist had gotten very thick now, he was having a hard time seeing, the mist and a bit of panic blinding him. At the last minute, he caught sight of the open grave in front of him. It was too late to slow, he tried to jump but he was at the edge of the grave and the ground gave out. He fell down onto his stomach, onto a freshly dead corpse.
He let out a blood curdling scream, high pitched and cracking. One arm dislocated, the other flailing around trying to grab hold of anything. He got onto his back, but when he went to sit up, he had hit the coffin lid, and it fell down, trapping him inside the coffin with the corpse. The jarring of the lid closing and hit him had actually relocated his shoulder. He put all his force to open the coffin lid. No use. The latches had closed and locked. He was trapped. He pushed and yelled and cursed as he pushed. He strained till he felt his muscles tear, he yelled till he lost his voice, all he could do was cough when he took a breath. The coffin was air tight, and in the space of thirty seconds, he had used up most of the air and he past out. Within a few minutes, his respiration ceased. He had joined that which scared him most.
His last thought..”No need to fear the dead” he heard, “You must be patient, for they have all the time in the world, you only have your life time. You will learn to accept death and the dead. You are scared of what it represents, of what everything becomes.”

The Doctor…

Dr. Herman McNellis was a successful psychologist. Apart from helping with the common mental disorders and cases, he also intensely worked on patients who had a horrible phobia case. He had developed a hypnosis treatment to cure people with the abnormally acute panic attacks from their phobias. Within one week he had used his treatment on over two dozen people. The treatments took about an hour, depending on how susceptible the people were to being hypnotized. Some it didn’t work on at all. Many of his patients that had experience the phobia “attacks” had reported to him, that they put themselves closer and closer to situations they would have never dreamed of before. They had been cured. All was well for Dr. McNellis. After hearing from his patients, he began to work on a paper to be delivered to the medical association for review.

A week and a half after his last hypnotherapy session, as he was watching the local news on dinner time, he saw a horrifying news story. A man had been found in his bed, by his wife coming home from a night shift at work, wrapped up in his sheets, with a look of sheer terror on his face. Herman knew the name. The man was his first hypnosis success. Poor guy had gotten his career back on track, he had been losing sleep, not working like he should. To die in his sleep, such a shame!

Two days later, another terror stricken man found in his bed by a roommate. Another name he knew, another patient of his phobia treatment. What had happened? Why did these two die in their sleep? They had both been young men, relatively healthy? Both in their prime of life. He went into his study to compile a list of names of treatments to call first thing in the morning to come see him at his office.

Counterphobia
Nothing to fear…
Except facing other peoples fears with them…

He awoke with a start. His eyes were open, but nothing was there. Complete blackness. An unknown fear was creeping into his body. A fear he had never felt before. He didn’t know of what. He tried to sit up, but he hit his head on something cold and round, having a soft texture. Then he realized, he wasn’t in bed anymore. Where am I? he thought. He reached up, his body shaking, to feel what he had hit his head on. He didn’t have much room around him to move his arm.

He put his hand to the round object, felt around. His hand almost kneading the soft material, it almost coming away in his fingers. Revulsion rising, his hand moved across the object quickly. He came to a thin row of what felt like fur, or hair. He realized it was a human head. “Get me out of here!” he screamed. He could hear himself scream, it sounding like he was in a very, very small area. He felt the floor below him. It was a cold metal surface. Using his feet he pushed himself forward, toward where he hoped he could get out.

He had closed his eyes, pushing with all his might, until he realized, there was light on the other side of his welded shut lids. He opened them. He was in a room with four walls, and one door. No more darkeness, no more dead. The constricting, collapsing feeling was gone, but he had to get out of the room. He ran to the door. He opened it, and flung himself to the other side. It was not any better. He was in a room full of people, except, it was very crowded. People everywhere. He tried talking to them, noone would listen. They were ignoring him. He worked his way through the crowd. The same fear creeping up into him again. Oh God, I need to get out again! He pushed his way, harshly through the mass of talking bodies. No-one seemed to care he was shouldering them out of the way. He came to another door. Finally!

After closing the door, he found himself in another room, four walls, and a door. He turned around, his door had vanished, just the other door in front of him, a little bit to the left on the wall. There was a painting on a wall, this time, to the right, when it should be centered. The painting itself, had no symmetry. He walked closer, trying to make sense of it. The closer he got, the weird and of center shapes lost their symmetry. This is driving me nuts! He thought, im leaving, now! He ran to the door, opened it. There was a blinding, intense light. He stepped through, and was standing on a ledge.

The rock ledge he stood upon must be many thousand feet up. He could see the bottom. His throat locked up, his knees threatened to give out. His breath became short, breathing became hard. The ledge disappeared around a corner, so he decided to follow it around while he still had the strength to do so, before the fear made his legs give out. He followed it around and around. It just kept going. The ledge kept getting smaller and smaller. A wind began to blow, pulling at his hair and clothes. His body kept his feet moving. The ledge became nothing more than a foot hold. One last step, and he was falling..

On his way down, his mind filled with many different terrors, one small part of his brain realized, these are the same horrible fears that his patients had feared. Guess you can not cure what the mind is afraid of he thought. As he was falling into the black void, his brain told his heart to stop beating, stopped telling his lungs to breath, but continued to assault his mind with many different horrible things, falling, openness, the dead…

The news story ran the next day. Dr. Herman McNellis had awoken his wife in the middle of the night with a loud, horrible screech. She turned the lights on, saw a look of incredible horror on his face. When the ambulance arrived, the crew examined him quickly, finding broken limbs, a shattered skull. Like he had fallen from a tall height.

All of Dr. McNellis’ patients died in their sleep. Looks of horror on their faces. Police searched his office and his home study. They found his paper he was writing, and what he had done. The names of all the people on a list, to call tomorrow. His studies where published, but not available to the public. It had been determined that peoples minds make up fears to take the place of something else. People need to learn how to cope, not get rid of these fears.