Thriller

"It's close to midnight, there's something lurking in the dark."

When I was little one thing scared the bejesus outta me. A snippet of the song Thriller, the smallest glimpse of the video, I was done. Oh sure, plenty of other things frightened me, but Vincent Price and Michael Jackson sent me over the edge.

Standing at the top of the stairs to the basement I'd call to my parents to perform their Duty as Card Carrying Parents: they had to escort me to bed. Though they weren't necessarily bigger than the monsters under my bed, they obviously possessed some magical power that kept the sneaking monsters at bay. Their denials were almost as torturous as the song.

There I stood, top of the stairs, mentally preparing for the gauntlet that stretched before me. My feet forced me down before I could back out. About half-way down, maybe six stairs left, I hurled myself forward into the air. An echo from the friction of my hand lightly grasping the rail reverberated up the stairwell. Not only did the rail provide stability, as I landed my grip tightened while I pulled myself sharply to the right. At that point I faced the most difficult and arduous task: the 15 feet from the door to my bed, flanked by a closet to the right and my sister's bed to the left. Monsters everywhere. I ran and leapt as though competing in the Long Jump. The final moment in the air, just before I landed in a pile of stuffed animals and blankets, stretched just a bit longer than the rest. My peripheral vision assured me that the closet door remained shut and no knobby arm emerged from under my bed.

Safe for another night.