(I hate to admit this, but I'm almost glad the guy got shot.)I haven't ever been that scared......but a friend of mine was.
He was involved in an altercation in which he was in fear for his life. There was a champion kickboxer who decided to pick a fight with my friend
over some girl.....he was a foot taller and outweighed my friend by at least 100 pounds. The kickboxer threatened my friend, and kicked him to the ground.....my friend peed his pants. He went home to change his clothes, and the kickboxer followed him, kicked through the door, and my friend shot the kickboxer.....my friend literally crapped his pants. I cannot imagine being that scared, and I hope I never am.
When I think of times I've been truly frightened I can remember four times, two of which were due to nightmares. I won't relay the nightmares. The first time I was probably around three, maybe four years old, and my parents had taken me to a fair, you know like with rides and carnies. There were a million people there. I got separated from my parents, probably by wandering off despite their telling me not to. Once I fully realized I was totally lost and had no idea where my parents might be, I became terrified. I'll always remember looking all over, crying like, well like a lost four year-old, seeing the sign over the tent which was part of the freak show - it was like a seal with the head of a man - the dust and dirt of the ground everyone, who seemed like a thousand plowing giants, were kicking up which I was breathing and which was getting in my eyes, a feeling of utter hopeless desperation, and finally my Dad picking me up and holding me and comforting me and being happy to have found me. My parents had had to go get help. I never learned how they found me.
The other time I was really scared was after I'd watched a horror movie at home. It was a midnight TV show, so everyone else was asleep. The TV was in the living room which had a huge picture window of the backyard which had no lights. The movie had, of course, been really terrifying as hell - I think it was Thirteen Ghosts - and when it was over I couldn't move. I was afraid to move my head to look somewhere other than straight ahead. I would move just my eyes. I was so very thankful the lights in the living room were on, but I was trapped sitting directly across from the picture window, desperate not to look out into the utter darkness, because I knew the ghosts were all around the house and maybe some already in the house, and their ghostly faces would come out of the darkness right up to the window to stare at me, and they'd come around both corners from the kitchen and the dining room. I don't remember how I eventually stopped thinking the ghosts were gonna get me.
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