  Horror/Scary
This week: Describing What Scares You Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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Describing What Scares You
I love describing things: the similes, the metaphors, the strong verbs. I also love 'How To' newsletters, which is what this is. But it's also about 'Fear' and how to describe what scares you.
To describe: characterize, construe, define, depict, report, recount, detail.
So, let's detail!!!
Last night I had one of my weird dreams (true story). I awoke in the middle of the night, dead sure --positive, and for certain-- there was an alien hiding behind my bedroom door. I stared at the damn door until my eyes watered from the pain, just watching, waiting to catch a glimpse, or see the slightest movement. As I stared, I had one of those V-8 head-slap moments. Why not analyze how I feel? I'm scared, what am I feeling? I thought ok, I can do that, and still keep my eyes peeled to the door. I know something is there.
I felt tight, like an over-wound watch; my extremities were almost paralyzed with an icy coldness that emanated from my heart or gut. My stomach felt as if something were pulling my entrails through my belly-button, like my 'will' was locked--focused--on that door with such intent, that nothing could break my concentration. My palms were sweaty, my hands, grasped into fists. I noted my breathing too: short, quick breaths, nostrils flared, and I could feel the hair at the back of my neck standing at attention. In fact, all my hair felt overly-sensitive, as if each follicle were alive and stretching forward trying to sense the danger.
What came to my mind next was, Paul Atreides. I remembered the mantra, the litany, he spoke in times of great peril:
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing....only I will remain"
-Dune by Frank Herbert
But it didn't help.
I then recalled the story I had written recently, "The Premonition"
[Excerpt] Slowly, he opened his eyes, and let them wander aimlessly around the room. They locked on the far corner, where the shadows danced wildly in the weak light falling in through the window.
There was a man standing there.
Terror greater than any he had ever known crept over him, and then his bladder voided itself in a gush of heat. But Joe hadn't the slightest idea of that or anything else. His fear had overcome all rationality, and he was now wide awake. No sound escaped him, not even the slightest squeak; he was as incapable of sound as he was of thought.
Someone was in the room.
He could see the man's dark eyes gazing at him with fixed attention. He could see the waxy whiteness of his narrow cheeks and high forehead, although the intruder's actual features were blurred by the shadows dancing about the room. He could see slumped shoulders and long dangling arms.
He had no idea how long he lay there in that paralyzed state. As the seconds dripped by like the rain, he found himself unable to avert his eyes from his strange guest. Horror and revulsion were the wellspring of his feelings, and these were the most powerful, negative emotions he had ever experienced. Whoever it was, had crept into his room while he was asleep, and now merely stood in the corner, camouflaged by the ceaseless ebb and flow of shadows over its face and body. The thing just stared at him with deep black eyes, eyes so large and rapt they reminded him of sockets in a skull.
I felt more determined than ever to discover what was behind my bedroom door. It was either that, or never getting back to sleep. Throwing the covers from me, I silently stood and crept toward the door. Something was there. I could see it. I lifted my arm and felt for the light switch, flicked it on, and stared at the alien hiding behind my door.
A smile of relief crept across my face as I beheld . . . the vacuum cleaner. 
Until next time,
billwilcox
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DEAD LETTERS
Osirantinous 
Comments:
Bill, thank you for including my pair of stories. Very much appreciated. I liked yours! I was waiting for blood, guts and gore (even though you'd mentioned ghosts) since this is the horror newsletter (and Christmas can be scary). But reading The Long Road Home I realised that a story doesn't need blood, guts and gore (or even ghosts) to be of the horror genre. A family unable to contact a loved one who should have been home by now brings its own horror and fear, and sometimes that is more chilling. You managed uplifting, educational and scary all in one!
 Thank you, my friend, thank you very much.
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Horror/Scary: January 21, 2015 Issue [#6777]
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