FEAR AND DEEP PSYCHOSIS!

Have you had an event, so frightening, that you just had to sit down and put the frightening experience to paper? Suspense! A terrible, wonderful, scary thing to waste.


My experience was on a dark and stormy night.


Oops, wrong story. Let’s try again.


Snow battered the wiper blades, the wind howled, and my twelve-year-old daughter had a birthday sleepover. Already, the roads were nearly impassable as we crawled at a slo-mo pace. This better be some birthday party, I thought.

Sliding around a corner, we saw the house. Huge. Birthday balloons waved hello in the front window and a couple balloons were slammed hither and yon on the mailbox by the wind.


We unloaded my daughter’s things, but as she turned from the car, the color drained from her face.

“Mom. I forgot my pillow.”

“Okay, well have fun.” Had to get out of there before she could say… .

“Mom, I can’t sleep without it.” Too late.

I realize I was never nominated Mother of the Year. (Although I’m sure some shrink somewhere, if he talked with my kids, would nominate me for some kind of mother, but I digress).

“All right, all right. I see the writing on the wall. I’ll—be—baack!” Drove home through almost a foot of snow now. Wind still howled, snow still yada, yada, yada.

When I returned to her friend’s home. I stared at the house this time. The trees’ gnarled branches gave the house a creepy look. As if giant arthritic hands surrounded it. I gulped. What did I know about these people? They were veritable strangers and

THEY HAD MY DAUGHTER!

Okay, reality check. I knew their kid, had met them at a school function, and hadn’t heard on the news of any bodies found in their back yard. NOT YET!

And anyway, if she had a problem, she’d call in a Michigan second (ours are different from any others, you see).

Left the pillow in the hands of a grateful daughter (remember that, Rachel, when the shrink asks) and started the engine so I could battle at least 18” of new snow. (I might exaggerate just a bit from time to time).

As I drove away, car sliding side to side, I couldn’t help wonder, what if Rachel were only five? What if she couldn’t call if a problem arose? What if I couldn’t get to her in the storm? What if I’d missed the mug shot of those people on American’s Most Wanted? What if . . . oh why did I ever leave that tiny baby in the hands of those felons!!??!!

Arriving home, sweat speckling my forehead, heart rate somewhere near five hundred, I sat down at the computer, and BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND SAY GOOD-BYE was born:


In Toledo, Ohio, five small girls huddled together, tears their only comfort. The van imprisoning them drove away from a recently emptied house. One girl couldn’t stop shaking, another continually wiped her nose on her coat sleeve, and two clutched at each other with clawed hands, never taking their eyes off the couple in the front seat. Anger vaulting to the surface, the fifth girl, brave beyond her years, dug fingernails into her hand until the tender skin bled.

The vehicle wasted no time heading for Chicago where, once again, the wheels of corruption would turn another truckload of frightened five-year-olds into pure gold.


Use those rare opportunities when unbelievable, heart-stopping fear strikes to hit the keyboard and write suspense. You only get the opportunity to encounter really creepy a few times in your life.

Anyone with a similar experience that forced you to hit the keyboard?