I covered my eyes at the scary stuff. Protecting myself from images on a screen. Celluloid nightmares that kept me from sleeping at night because I peeked and saw the monster. Those images would haunt me for weeks, and as irrational as it was I was sure "it" was waiting for me in the garage. I was functioning perfectly all night until it was time to go up to bed and now I run ahead to turn on the light in the next room before I go back to turn off the light in the room I just left. The basement. In my teens this was the scariest place of all. If I needed to find something in the basement when I was home alone the lights when on first. There was a wall of closets that lined the back wall. If one of the doors was open at all, even the slightest bit I wouldn't go down at all. If I felt I could get what I needed and beat the creature before it grabbed hold of the back of my shirt I would make a mad dash down the stairs holding my breath until I made it back up to the kitchen, closing and locking the door in the hall behind me, trembling but triumphant. Terrifying those days of wild imaginations.
I'm not afraid these days. Because I keep my eyes closed at the scary stuff.
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