And that spider is yooooge.

Looks like a garden spider, though. Apparently harmless.

I mean, not that I want one on my face or nuffin’.

– c.

Spiders. I think all big spiders (little ones you can smash with your thumb don’t count. Unless you’re counting how many you can smash with your thumb) should be napalmed. Unfortunately, I have giant bird eating (NO, REALLY.) that build webs across my front door every summer looking to eat my face meat and/or offspring.

Things that move fast that look like they shouldn’t, or things that move in a herky jerky way freak me the hell out. See: Zelda from Pet Semetary (not a scary movie, but she was) or Samara from The Ring/Ju’on. The director’s cut of The Exorcist with Reagan climbing on the ceiling, her head tweaked around. GEH.

Hypnagogy continues to earn scare points. As does Justin Achilli.

And the fact that Mister Carriker over there gives some actual credence to the Hag Syndrome is making me not want to go to bed tonight.

– c.

Hypnagogic Hallucinations … I didn’t even know what that was until now. I don’t have normal people dreams either. Nightmares are fun. Except that one once when I was in high school… it was like what you described with the hag, except mine was Death (robe, skeletal hands, utterly terrifying). I still get the shivers just thinking about it. Hypnagogic Hallucination… yep. I hope to never again have one. Ever.

Funny enough, Ouija boards are banned in my house as well for the same reasons. Glad to know we’re not the only ones.

I’m kinda numb on the batshit insane. My husband a correctional officer, he often works with the batshit insane. The stories he tells me creeps me out, but they are not terrifying anymore.

That tick story. Yeah, I think I’ll be having nightmares about that now, thanks.

My fears? Two of them. The first is pretty easy: having to bury another one of my children. I live with that fear every day of my life, every time I look at my two wonderful children, behind their eyes I see my first. It’s not the ass-hole pucker fear, but the sharp stab of a knife in the heart fear that still wakes me up at nights.

The second – tornadoes. Tornadoes get my heart racing, blood pounding, adrenaline flowing like nothing else. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to not let this fear rule me – but they still scare the hell out of me.

The latter thing I’m willing to take responsibility for. I’m willing to concede that chances are good that if you practice witchcraft, you’re gonna have hags sitting on your chest sometimes. Comes with the territory.

But clowns? No way.

I, also, am afraid of Justin Achilli.

Closets. I cannot sleep with a closet door open even a crack.

I know that fucking thing was the boogeyman, and I know that I actually was awake.

One day a few summers ago my husband and I were both in the bathroom while he showered and I asked him what the peachy colored dust all over the trash can lid was. He got out and brushed some aside and we couldn’t figure out what it was. Then we looked up at the wall and noticed little peachy dots all over the tile. They were on the ceiling too. And then we realized the peach dust was moving. After we essentially napalmed the room we discovered they had been tick hatchlings.

Tick. Hatchlings. Millions.

Ticks squick my brain. Any blood sucking parasites that spread disease squick my brain.