story: The man who liked to be scared

As he drove past along the high road, the thought entered his mind. "No," he instantly dismissed it. There's no point. It's not rational. Why would I want to? It doesn't make sense.

15 minutes later he found himself standing at the spinney, facing the 'Bridge'. The Bridge was a railway sleeper, 2 meters above the river, 7 meters long, and 10cm wide. Walking across it was the scariest thing he'd ever done.

He wasn't really unnerved at all by the fact that he was alone, in a secluded spot, in the dark, but the walking over the 'bridge' made his mouth dry, his heart pound, and his breathing shallow. Which is why he had to do it.

- Now, let's pause for a moment here. Because of my aforementioned intensity, I have a propensity for making things seem more melodramatic than they actually are. Please hear me here, I KNOW that it's not actually all that scary or dangerous, and that if I fell in, I'd only just get wet, but you're missing the point of what I'm trying to share with you if you focus on that! -

He inched forward along the beam. Half way across he glanced down at the surface of the water. Having no reference point on which to judge his balance, every sway seemed to be a major lurch towards falling in. And, because he was nervous, when he felt himself leaning one way, he overcompensated in leaning the other, which brought him even closer to falling in. Half way accross, looking at the surface of the water, he nearly fell. He tensed up like Road Runner finishing a run. He carried on, edging slowly, slowly.
Near the end was a tricky bit, where the bridge went under a tree. You had to push the clawing, scratching branches out of the way to get past, but you could get stuck if you tried to balance against them. They were no more than twigs - wouldn't hold your weight, - false friends. If you leant on them they'd give way, and you'd be in the water. He reached up his hand, to clear the way for himself. All he was aware of were his feet, the river, and the feel of the tree, digging lightly into his hand.

And then he turned around.

He stopped what he was doing, within a breath of the end, and turned around, and walked, very slowly and carefully back the way he had come. Then when he got there, he turned around, and went back again, a bit more confidently.

He kept wandering up and down that plank, not until it didn't scare him at all, but at least until he could say he was mostly over his fear of it - he had conquered it!

And this has been his experience time and and time again. He can't get away from things that scare him. He can avoid them, for a while, but then they creep up on him, and he has to do them. He even feels kinda flabby, or out of shape, when he hasn't done anything scary in a while. He is a man who can't resist being scared. If something scares him, he will end up doing it. He can't say why., it's just something he does. And long may it continue.

much love

D