In January, 2002 I came down with the Chicken Pox. For five days I was completely overcome by fever, desperately trying to fight off delusion and hallucination. As always, my notebook was beside my bed, and when I came to, I found this written in a hand that was not my own, yet still eerily familiar…

My hyperactive imagination always has kept me afraid of the dark - no matter what age. When I was young, it was octopuses (octopi?) under my bed. Now it tends to be fantasy or horror creatures, depending on what I’ve been reading.

I’m not altogether ashamed of it (or else I wouldn’t be saying it) - I’d much rather have fear than lose my imagination. And it doesn’t keep me from my tasks - just makes each of them into an adventure. Who ever thought running out to the car at midnight for a forgotten CD would be a courageous quest, frought with peril? It makes for a more exciting life.

But I found to my suprise last night that I was no longer afraid of the dark. I had gotten up for my anti-itch pills around midnight, ambling about with legs, arms, and fingers outspread to avoid aggravating the spots, back hunched over to keep a blanket from falling off. I came to a part of the house that often scares me, and thought, “I should be afraid now.” But I wasn’t. I stopped, confused - and then the moon caught my eye. Suddenly I felt a connection, and I knew.

I was no longer one of the weak, everyday people. I looked at the darkness and gained strength from it, feeling my connection with the deformed and evil - the brotherhood of Frankenstein and Mr. Hyde. I was now a powerful being, fed by all things horrible.

My amble turned into a deformed prowl. I kept my fingers curled into claws - the nails seemed to me to be already more pointed. I sniffed the air, and bared my teeth as I smelled other humans - but it was not time to confront them yet. Instead I pulled the refrigerator open and grabbed a cold pizza, hungry for the meat on it. Nevermind that it was cooked - it was meat. Raw meat I’d find later.

Now the parts of the house that used to scare me the most send me jumping up and down in spastic delight, growling and snarling, working myself into a frenzy. My spots bubble up and down, slowly growing and turning more and more red, responding to the call of the darkness.

Now, I fear none. All fear me.