I hate scary movies or horror stories. That was my mothers’ quick lullaby when I was young to get me off her back. Children eating monsters, ugly and evil creatures rising out from the dark, lurking behind trees preying on helpless kids. Stories that got stuck in my psyche which I voluntarily replay in my mind, when I’m alone, in a dark room at nighttime and worst after watching horror movies. I let it haunt myself almost playing the scenes in my dreams with me as the main character.
However, I never feared commuting late at night or until dawn after a night out with friends. We would binge drink, hop from one bar to the other, then I take a cab home alone. And still wake up fresh the following morning either to get back to work at 9am or do my regular routine. That’s when I was much younger, no health or security scare.
And also because I learned my lessons.
One friday fifteen years ago, unfortunately and surprisingly I wasn’t expecting an adventurous weekend. Almost all my friends in one of their rarest moment were attending to some urgent family or personal affairs. Even my boyfriend was out of town. To see myself sitting in front of the tv alone or going early to bed was not a scene in the movie of my life. No problem, as I comforted myself, this is one day I could be productive by doing errands I’ve long procrastinated.
In a spur of the moment decision right after work that day I took a bus heading to my aunts’ place to pick up some things. When it’s very late I’d be invited to stay overnight, but tonight inspite getting the invitation I was bent on going home.
As I got out of the street I signaled to an oncoming taxi which stop in front of me. It sped as soon as I sat and close the door, but it stop about quarter of a mile and someone opened the door on my side, pushed me in. “What’s the meaning of this?” was all I could say. Very calmly and gently the driver who seemed to be the brain, “this is a hold up”.
Everything happened so fast, they took whatever money I had and let me off the hook by dropping me in some dark corner. I took a public transportation and came home before ten pm that night.
Even as I am writing now, the tension rises within me, I hated myself for not following my instinct, I should’ve heeded the invitation of spending the night at my aunts’ place, or I should’ve just stayed home and wallow in ennui, or I should’ve got some rest. And because of this I hated myself for being stupid and idiot. It was a night I would never forget.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fright Night.”