The Pendulum of Fear
Summary: This very short story, based on "The Fourth Carpathian", represents
another writing challenge issued to me today by Janet. Janet wanted a story
that would show what was going on in Gary's mind when he was trapped in that
abandoned theater. The story that follows is my acceptance of her challenge
and my interpretation of what I think Gary could have been thinking (and
feeling).
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not mine but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "The Fourth Carpathian."
Author's Notes: Special thanks to Janet who inspires me on a daily basis
with her imagination, her talent, and her humor. And whose challenges
constantly whet my creative juices and keep me on my toes (I hope! LOL.)
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
The Pendulum of Fear
Fear is a pendulum. It is never idle. Maybe out of boredom, it swings back
and forth all the while instilling a false sense of comfort and control for
its victim as it moves in the opposite direction of certainty before jumping
back strong and vigilant towards uncertainty.
Fear is unforgiving, merciless. It is often born out of childhood trauma
and remains a silent companion throughout one's adulthood.
Fear watches. It waits. It reacts. Fear is poised to attack at any time
and at any place.
The scaffold shook again like the warning tremor before an earthquake. Gary
tried desperately to keep still as he lay there on his back terrified that
even moving an inch would result in the scaffold disengaging from the
ceiling and crashing down to the floor with him on it. His body ached
from more then fatigue from the long hours he lay there sprawled on his back
like one of those ancient statutes of an Egyptian pharaoh pulled on a
mammoth cart by slaves before it was erected to glory over a magnificent
tomb. His body ached from intense fear. He didn't want to die.
Ever since he was a kid, he had been afraid of heights. Getting
trapped in that tree house certainly hadn't helped matters, but at least Dad
was there to provide comfort. Over the years, he had tried fighting his
fear. In college, his fraternity brothers had suggested bungee jumping as
the ultimate rush and as a means to shock his system out of his fears. But
an unnatural free fall wasn't the "therapy" he had in mind. Still, he had
done well in his estimation handling his fear of heights. He had even once
spent a day helping a neighbor back home fix a leaky roof. And the paper
had offered several challenges that forced him to cope with his fear of
heights. He had found himself climbing out of apartment buildings and
jumping on top of moving trucks as he ended up dangling precariously from
the side of the truck to prevent it from crashing into a beam and derailing
a train. These experiences triggered his childhood fear of heights and sent
his heart into fitful palpitations. Yet, he had survived them.
The scaffold shook again. He let out a pitiful cry of help to the abandoned
structure, his voice resonating his fear, echoed off the edifice perhaps to
be heard only by the ghosts that still remained there undetected. But those
ghosts were silent, in words anyway. However, they still tormented him. He
heard them, in every creak. Were they laughing at him, mocking him, and
inviting him to join them in death? He couldn't tell. He smelled them as
the building reeked of the odors of decay and abandonment. He felt them with
their cold hands of death as day turned into night and darkness blanketed
the room.
His stomach answered him, though, growling insistently for the nourishment
that it had been deprived of during these long hours. And his back answered
him, screaming in pain from forced inertia. His muscles seemed in
conference deciding whether atrophy would be a nobler punishment.
He refused to move, but the scaffolding was impatient. It shook yet again. He
found himself cursing that monkey. Mikey...the little rascal's name proved
acidic on his tongue even as Gary's tongue cracked from thirst. He should have
known that he was in for trouble when the story in the paper required that
he rescue a monkey. Monkeys had caused him trouble ever since he was six
years old and Mom took him to the zoo. He was observing the monkeys when
one of the little critters somehow reached from the cage and grabbed Gary's
cotton candy. A zoo official then yelled at Gary for disobeying the edict
of "Don't Feed The Animals." He fought back his tears from the undeserved
scolding. Mom's back was turned at the time so she didn't see the monkey's
theft of the cotton candy, but she defended her son. And Gary...well, he
could have sworn that the little felon was laughing at him as the monkey
gorged on that wonderful cotton candy!
And now Mikey...Mikey was like a defiant child. He had come there to rescue
that monkey. He knew that Mikey heard his calls, but intentionally ignored
him just as a child sometimes ignores a parent when he wants to assert his
independence.
"Meow!" The cat's cry was welcomed. The cry momentarily pacified the
cobwebs in Gary's head that spoke of impending death. That cry was better
than those silent, yet mocking ghosts.
"Cat." Gary whimpered. "Cat, I could use some help here." Okay, he was
placing his life in the paws of the feline, but he had no choice. Right now,
the cat was the only cavalry for the hero.
Later, Mom told him how he had been located. And he owed his life to Crumb
and the acrobatic brothers.
But Fear had not put up a white flag of surrender. The pendulum just swung in
the opposite direction. For now.
The End.
Summary: This very short story, based on "The Fourth Carpathian", represents
another writing challenge issued to me today by Janet. Janet wanted a story
that would show what was going on in Gary's mind when he was trapped in that
abandoned theater. The story that follows is my acceptance of her challenge
and my interpretation of what I think Gary could have been thinking (and
feeling).
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not mine but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "The Fourth Carpathian."
Author's Notes: Special thanks to Janet who inspires me on a daily basis
with her imagination, her talent, and her humor. And whose challenges
constantly whet my creative juices and keep me on my toes (I hope! LOL.)
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
The Pendulum of Fear
Fear is a pendulum. It is never idle. Maybe out of boredom, it swings back
and forth all the while instilling a false sense of comfort and control for
its victim as it moves in the opposite direction of certainty before jumping
back strong and vigilant towards uncertainty.
Fear is unforgiving, merciless. It is often born out of childhood trauma
and remains a silent companion throughout one's adulthood.
Fear watches. It waits. It reacts. Fear is poised to attack at any time
and at any place.
The scaffold shook again like the warning tremor before an earthquake. Gary
tried desperately to keep still as he lay there on his back terrified that
even moving an inch would result in the scaffold disengaging from the
ceiling and crashing down to the floor with him on it. His body ached
from more then fatigue from the long hours he lay there sprawled on his back
like one of those ancient statutes of an Egyptian pharaoh pulled on a
mammoth cart by slaves before it was erected to glory over a magnificent
tomb. His body ached from intense fear. He didn't want to die.
Ever since he was a kid, he had been afraid of heights. Getting
trapped in that tree house certainly hadn't helped matters, but at least Dad
was there to provide comfort. Over the years, he had tried fighting his
fear. In college, his fraternity brothers had suggested bungee jumping as
the ultimate rush and as a means to shock his system out of his fears. But
an unnatural free fall wasn't the "therapy" he had in mind. Still, he had
done well in his estimation handling his fear of heights. He had even once
spent a day helping a neighbor back home fix a leaky roof. And the paper
had offered several challenges that forced him to cope with his fear of
heights. He had found himself climbing out of apartment buildings and
jumping on top of moving trucks as he ended up dangling precariously from
the side of the truck to prevent it from crashing into a beam and derailing
a train. These experiences triggered his childhood fear of heights and sent
his heart into fitful palpitations. Yet, he had survived them.
The scaffold shook again. He let out a pitiful cry of help to the abandoned
structure, his voice resonating his fear, echoed off the edifice perhaps to
be heard only by the ghosts that still remained there undetected. But those
ghosts were silent, in words anyway. However, they still tormented him. He
heard them, in every creak. Were they laughing at him, mocking him, and
inviting him to join them in death? He couldn't tell. He smelled them as
the building reeked of the odors of decay and abandonment. He felt them with
their cold hands of death as day turned into night and darkness blanketed
the room.
His stomach answered him, though, growling insistently for the nourishment
that it had been deprived of during these long hours. And his back answered
him, screaming in pain from forced inertia. His muscles seemed in
conference deciding whether atrophy would be a nobler punishment.
He refused to move, but the scaffolding was impatient. It shook yet again. He
found himself cursing that monkey. Mikey...the little rascal's name proved
acidic on his tongue even as Gary's tongue cracked from thirst. He should have
known that he was in for trouble when the story in the paper required that
he rescue a monkey. Monkeys had caused him trouble ever since he was six
years old and Mom took him to the zoo. He was observing the monkeys when
one of the little critters somehow reached from the cage and grabbed Gary's
cotton candy. A zoo official then yelled at Gary for disobeying the edict
of "Don't Feed The Animals." He fought back his tears from the undeserved
scolding. Mom's back was turned at the time so she didn't see the monkey's
theft of the cotton candy, but she defended her son. And Gary...well, he
could have sworn that the little felon was laughing at him as the monkey
gorged on that wonderful cotton candy!
And now Mikey...Mikey was like a defiant child. He had come there to rescue
that monkey. He knew that Mikey heard his calls, but intentionally ignored
him just as a child sometimes ignores a parent when he wants to assert his
independence.
"Meow!" The cat's cry was welcomed. The cry momentarily pacified the
cobwebs in Gary's head that spoke of impending death. That cry was better
than those silent, yet mocking ghosts.
"Cat." Gary whimpered. "Cat, I could use some help here." Okay, he was
placing his life in the paws of the feline, but he had no choice. Right now,
the cat was the only cavalry for the hero.
Later, Mom told him how he had been located. And he owed his life to Crumb
and the acrobatic brothers.
But Fear had not put up a white flag of surrender. The pendulum just swung in
the opposite direction. For now.
The End.