Fright

It is something which all creatures experience. It is – physiological; we are machines (or, mechanistic. … yet that is not to say that we have not souls. Oh no, this supports all  the more the fact that we need to be kind to our souls – and the souls of others).

I have proof of what I say, above – that “all creatures” experience fright. Just now, as I was closing my eyes and relaxing my mind – opening it – listening to the wonderful *chirp* of the crickets outside, was certainly helping my endeavor. A steady, bright, *chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chir chirp chirp chirp.*  (Is it not pleasant, reader? So steady; denizens of the night). So steady and uniform, yet actually not nearly as “machine-like” as you might think. Looking at my series of written out “chirps,” I see an symbolic analogy of this. You see, their “chirp chirp chirp chirp” is not perfect, just as my typing is not perfect! Do you see my typo? I missed a p. Anyhow, while listening to them, another noise took place outside of the window, below, in the parking lot — the slam of a car door. It caused the crickets to pause for half a splt second. Why? because of fright. They were frightened into missing a beat. It had nothing to do with their minds or their little wills, assuming crickets have them (haven’t  they? Have they not the “will” to chirp?) And to support/prove this point – or, to prove that what I heard was accurate), another car door slammed – the passenger’s I presume – and the crickets briefly – ever so briefly – halted their tiny symphony again. Out of fright, indeed; and not as if they were scared to go on, but their systems (mechanistic) had the tiniest of monkey wrenches thrown rudely into its conveyor belts and pulleys. (A very sound and strong system, however, it dislodged or broke the infernal wrench in a jiffy).

Now. What I was going to write on fright in the first place – well, while driving along the country roads (in my beloved car which can be seen in my profile pic) I experienced an extraordinary shock of fright – something which I have never experienced before in my life! (And perhaps never will again! How amazing). It literally scared the hell out of me. If another car had been coming in the opposite direction at that moment, there is a good chance that I would have hit them – as the fright caused me to swerve into the other lane. (Oh, but it was so soft! in the cupped palm of my hand. That is probably the takeaway of the whole experience. So soft and pleasant – really. In several ways).

That is all I shall write for now. I would like to read a bit of Mansfield Park before my cup-of-beer buzz wears off. Til next time! …

It is now that next time, and I shall wrap this up, in case anyone ever reads it. Yes, it was so soft! in my hand. Both the body and the fuzziness (a micro fur, really) on its body. To compliment this double softness, it had a way of “tucking in” its body, into the main crevice-fold of the hand, when it is cupped. (By the way, I had brought my hand to my mouth in that gesture one makes while laughing and grinning. I had thought of something funny, as I am wont to do). So there I was, driving along a windy country road, with the biggest jumping wolf spider I have EVER – SEEN, nestled in my hand;and then I go ahead and bring that hand right up to my face! of course. *_* … The split second before I screamed like a banshee (no, I discovered I do not scream like a girl when all conscious faculties have deserted me – as far from me as the moon is from earth. As I’m sure virtually all men don’t; the movies lie, and take cheap shots at men these days). The spider rappelled out of the cup of my hand like a kamikaze zip-liner making a mad dash for the safety of the dark jungle below. But it got frightened too, I believe. Must have! For it checked its descent, and therefore, instead of winding up in my lap (or, if its plan (?) had gone perfectly, in that crevice between the seat and the center consul – that crevice where the seat belt fastener protrudes, if you know what I mean), instead of *zipping* on down to either of those ground-points, it stopped after it was just barely out of the cup of my hand, and then dangled ever so slightly. This is when I really realized what it was, eliciting – to put it lightly – a scream of sheer FRIGHT. It was this fright which caused me to lose control, including control of my car, for a split second – I wound up going over the center line just a bit – just a foot, foot-and-a-half – as I simultaneously shook the bastard off/out of my hand! … Ah, but I just realized: I did have the wherewithal, surprisingly, to try to shake him or her out the window. Which of course didn’t work. But it did get the soft little f*#@!r out of my hand, and – ahhhh. What a relief it was. It was onto the floor, now! …. Right?

Wrong. It had alighted, in its wolf-y way, on the front of my seat – and in between my legs! *_* I tried to “tuck myself in” to the back of my seat, just as the spider had tucked itself into the crease of my palm. Its location there on the seat was only better because literally nothing could be worse than having a giant jumping spider (soft; oh! but it was so soft) in the cup of one’s hand, and the hand right next to the mouth. I can still see it – with all those eyes! – huddled in there, staring out at me, so cold – so evil!

… Yet this is not the truth, you see; and I am now getting into, briefly, the psychological aspect of fright and fear (- not the physiological side. Is it not interesting?) The truth was as I have said, the spider was certainly not staring – out of hateful malice, planning to terrorize the heart of my soul (even if that is what it did, and with such natural mastery). It, or she – as it probably was – was just as frightened as I, wanting desperately to get out of that danger. (Ha, and she probably thought my hand was as pleasantly, surprisingly warm, as I thought her little body was pleasantly surprisingly soft – it really was! Like nothing you will ever feel. Trust me).
Well, to wrap this up now: I piloted my ship to safety (yes, very interestingly, it rather did suddenly feel like I was steering a boat into shore. I kid you not! How utterly fascinating, no? I mean, what is with that?! Fear, I suppose, leads to the “ship out to sea” trope – an unrequited love analogy). Anyhow, I found a side road (which took a little while being that it was a country road): one of those private neighborhoods for almost-millionaires. I parked, and gingerly opened the door – then proceeded to do to my car and its roof, what Miss wolf spider had done to my hand: press myself up into it, i.e., as far away from the spider on my seat below as possible. Another driver came along down their road and passed me on the left. I believe he or she knew just what was going on from the looks of it. Ha. I got a book from the passenger seat and got Miss wolf spider onto it, and ever so carefully – for she was a hopper, as wolf spiders are – placed the book on the asphalt below. It cutely hopped off, and scurried beneath my car. I really hope I did not run it over as I left. I hope she is happily settled, now, staring out from the most hideous, ghastly thick funnel of a web ensconced in the dusty bushes and trees on the side of that lane, staring out – with its variously sized sets, of shining black eyes.

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