Fears

These are the lists of my own FEARS . . . 

Acarophobia  Skin infestation by mites or insects.
Agoraphobia  Crowds, public places or open areas.
Agraphobia  Sexual abuse.
Automyosophobia Being dirty.
Isolophobia  Being alone.
Batrachophobia  Frogs and toads, bufonophobia.
Blennophobia  Slime.
Brontophobia an abnormal fear of thunder and thunderstorms.
Taphephobia or Taphophobia  Buried alive.
Cancerophobia  Fear of cancer, carcinophobia.
Catagelophobia Being ridiculed.
Demonophobia Demons or spirits.
Dermatophobia Skin disease.
Dystychiphobia Accidents.
Enochlophobia  Crowds.
Epistaxiophobia  Nosebleeds.
Glossophobia  Speaking in public.
Phasmophobia  Ghosts.
Taphophobia  Graves.
Hydrophobia  Water.
Iophobia  Poisons.
Traumatophobia  Injury.
Zelophobia  Jealousy.
Lilapsophobia Tornadoes and hurricanes.
Obesophobia  Gaining weight.
Pneumatiphobia  Spirits.
Scriptophobia Writing in public.
Tetanophobia Lockjaw, tetanus.
Tridecaphobia  Number 13.


and my personal favorite:
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaloiophobia Long words.


-hahaha!-

Honeymoon

“The honeymoon suite,” said the clerk brightly, handing over the keys.
        ”Thank you,” said Benven.
        On the way to the room, Lasella followed him. This didn’t feel right. In her imagination, they had walked hand in hand, smiling. But, for some reason, after barely six hours of married life, she had gotten into the habit of following him.
        The honeymoon suite was cold. Benven nuded the airconditioning control. Making it, she saw, colder. They were alone, suddenly. He turned to her. His mouth had the most curious resemblance to a can opener, a resemblance she was incapable of explaining.
        ”Strip,” he said.

* * *

        The rental car probed the narrow road. Once they got stuck. He grunted, applying brute force. She gasped, unable to stay silent. The car thrust forward, bucked toward its conclusion, dribbled to a halt in a wet clearing dark with hairy shadows, loud with swamp insects.
        ”Out,” he said.
        The night was humid. A drop of sweat trickled into Lasella’s ear. She flinched, disgusted. Sweating inside her ear! She had never heard of such a thing. Certainly had never expected it.
        ”This is where Sue lost her virginity,” he said.
        ”Sue?” said Lasella.
        ”My first love,” said Benven. “Now, out.”
        Standing in the dark, waiting for him to come for her, she found herself shaking. Trembling with adrenalin. A blurred sobbing sound was coming from her lips, uncontrollably.
        ”Hands behind your back,” he said.
        And they were, and were suddenly heavy, rigid, locked.
        There were stones in the mud, and it was wetter than expected, and surprisingly cold.

* * *

        ”Doesn’t look in very good condition,” said the man with the yellow beard, who was comfortably seated on an oil drum, which looked robust enough to support him. “Where did you get her?”
        ”Where you get everything these days,” said Benven. “The Internet, where else? Speaking of where - where’s the lawyer?”
        ”He’ll be along,” said the man with the yellow beard.
        And he was, eventually.
        ”All ready,” said the lawyer, pulling some paperwork out of his briefcase. “Sign here, little girl.”
        ”She’s not jailbait, you know,” said Benven. “She’s my lawful wedded wife.”
        ”I’m very happy for you,” said the lawyer, without any obvious display of emotion. “Sign, please. No? Is she right-handed? Okay, Chip, break one of her fingers. Left hand, please.”
        The man with the yellow beard lumbered to his feet. Hastily, Lasella signed.
        ”Okay,” said the lawyer. “I’ll get granny to witness this. Benven, can we leave her with Chip for a couple of hours? We need to talk about the fish farm.”
        ”You cool with that?” said Chip.
        ”Yeah,” said Benven. “Just don’t pull her hair out, that’s all. I want her to look good for when she meets my mother.”
        His mother? This was the first time that Lasella had heard of this planned meeting. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to hope.

* * *

        When they were alone together, Chip and Lasella, Chip licked her cheek. Once, but slowly.
        ”Show me your fingernails,” he said. “No, don’t be like that. I’m not going to break anything. Show me what you’ve got.”
        Reluctantly, Lasella displayed her fingernails. There was dirt beneath each and every one of them. She was so ashamed. She had never had dirty fingernails before. Not in her entire life.
        ”Sit on the table,” said Chip. “No, don’t hide your fingernails. We’re not finished yet. We. Are. Only. Just. At. The. Very. Beginning.”
        She sat, and he painted her fingernails blue, using not nailpolish but a little tin of touchup paint designed to adhere to metallic surfaces. As he painted her nails, one by one, Lasella cried. Big fat hot tears.
        ”Very nice,” said Chip, the one truly contented man in the universe. “Very nice, and much nicer soon.”

* * *

        After they bought the wig, Benven drove to an estuary.
        ”This is where I came with Maybeline,” said Benven.
        ”Maybeline?” said Lasella, who still occasionally asked questions, still hoping to understand.
        ”My second wife,” said Benven. He paused, sighed. “This is where she lost her arm.”
        ”To a shark?” said Lasella, eying the estuary.
        ”No,” said Benven. “To a chainsaw.”

* * *

        Struggling badly on the crutches - really, they were a very poor substitute for the missing foot - she followed Benven down the slope.
        The ground was soft, and yielded easily to Benven’s spade. Not virgin soil, but old, tainted with secrets.
        ”You know what’s down here?” said Benven.
        She did not reply. The ability to speak was lost to her, missing along with her name.
        ”What’s down here,” said Benven, “is my mother.”

I Miss You :D

I can’t exactly remember since when I got single. I can recollect, but can’t find a time. Now, every single day I am constantly hoping to find a partner. It sounds so desperate of me, but all I know this time around is that, I want a stable and serious relationship, with someone I truly like and who’ll give me the joy and the attention I am always looking for.

I miss the smell of a boyfriend’s chest. When I badly need a hug, sinking my face towards his chest, sniffing the smell of his shirt and feeling lump of his body.

I miss the warm breath in my neck. When you are embraced from behind and holding his hand that seems to say, don’t let go yet and embrace me some more.

I miss the intimate conversations.. Where you can frown and smile together; steal some stare and laugh it out.

I miss his tight embrace until you get home together.

I miss the long torrid kisses. The kiss that keeps no inhibitions. The kiss that is full of passion, that without saying a word you exchanged I Love You’s.

I miss the mushy text messages. The lingering I Love You’s in your inbox, the morning greeting and the late good nights.

I miss a little of the arguments. When you both try to untangle some differences, ends with a compromise and getting used to new ways that works for the both of you. Make a little sacrifice and be happy with it.

I miss the cute planning together. Imagining big dreams in the early stage of your relationship and the drive it gives you as you make them come true together.

I miss being envied. Because your friends know you are happy.

I miss the intimate dates. The us, the ours, the you and me and the contentment it brings to me.

Pleasure and Torture

What’s the difference between pleasure and torture?
Pleasure is thinking of you..
& torture is thinking of you too much.

The Words of Hunt

by: Johnny Wheeler

What love I built with loving words
I quickly tore apart
Like daggers they have pierced your soul
And hurt your loving heart

In anger I lashed out at you
It wasn’t my intent
What others say, and what they do
Has caused this awful bent

My soul is kind, I think you know
The sorrow that I feel
I hurt your heart, there’s no excuse
I hope that it can heal

I speak with words so tenderly
But now I look the fool
Words that can inspire love
I used as hurtful tools

You may forgive, and might forget
Because you’re kind at heart
But hurting you just haunts me so
Your heart I’ve torn apart

I’m sorry, please just understand
It tears me up inside
That I would say such words to you
To try to hurt your pride

They say time heals, I hope it’s true
My fondest wish to be
That you’ll one day forgive my words
And go on loving me

* * *