Simple Things/ Lang Kenneth Haynes
Worst Fear: A short story
Worst Fear: A short story
Jennifer was the only human being in that part of the thick Brazilian forest. She was on a mission. She hadn’t plotted the course on a map or
decided that it was the right thing to do based on listening sessions. She knew exactly where she was without benefit of a GPS device linked to
invisible satellites. She was in the moment. Not the past or future, but in the moment. On her way to discover the only thing she could truly
discover: herself.
There was a part of her that knew that the only thing that made sense was for her to confront her greatest fears. Because she felt that,
without a doubt, her best and worst parts lived in the folds of those fears. No. The fears did not take on the form of a three-headed,
misunderstood dragon like the one she saw in the animated movie she watched with her daughter, Holly, before she boarded a plane for Sao
Paulo, Brazil. But, oddly enough, the fear did have three distinct parts: Fear of darkness. Fear of silence. And the ultimate fear of caves. She
laughed to herself, through the thick blanket of gnats and other annoying, biting insects, that a person can’t control the things that one fears or
ask them to only surface at appointed times. But we can choose to consciously seek them out and look them in the eye. Such deliberateness
seemed to suck a little power away from the feared thing. At least this is what she told herself as she trudged through the damp forest with her
arms, legs and face as glistening and sweaty as the large leaves of plants that wrapped their tendrils around her ankles as she walked.
The sun was low in the western sky. It would be dark in a couple of hours. The light was already looking different in a way that was hard to
describe. Everything looked dreamlike. Kind of translucent with an orange/gold kind of glow. Maybe the strangest thing of all was that Jennifer
wasn’t only seeing with her eyes. She was taking it all in with other senses. Touch, sight, smell, taste and hearing all joined together to form a
new way of experiencing things. Like the color of the setting sun and the light it cast, what she was experiencing was impossible to put words
to. She felt a kind of clarity that she had never experienced before and she felt capable of delivering her message with the deftness of a
machete slashing humid forest plants that stood in the way of imagined paths. But words were not the way to convey the meaning of knowledge
that grew somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
She felt a sharp sensation on the left part of her face and looked up to see the blindingly bright feathers of a toucan. The image of the large
bird existed in her mind before she actually saw it. The thick undergrowth writhed, parted and moved toward a shallow pool of water. Jennifer
knew what it was, and her eyes — that had momentarily regained the sole function of seeing — confirmed what she already knew: an enormous
anaconda was moving quickly and stealthily towards a seemingly unaware capybara that was struck and slowly swallowed as its feet scurried
as though it was actually going somewhere. In the sandy areas of the forest floor, leafcutter ants carried slices of leaves that were many times
their size. The destination was unknown to Jennifer, but the ants were on their way there in a very orderly fashion and with great speed and
determination. Egrets hunted nonchalantly for fish in the estuaries formed by the Atlantic Ocean and Amazon tributaries. The voices of hundreds
of howler monkeys screamed at the two-legged intruder from high in the forest canopy. Some of the small Amazon River tributaries seemed to
bleed — the redness came from the roots of mangrove trees that sought earth beneath the surface of the water.
The sun was lower on the horizon now. It would be dark in a matter of minutes. The dragonflies did not seem to care. The gnats had
retreated to wherever gnats go when it starts to get dark. The animal night shift was soon to come alive. Jennifer thought to herself that it
wouldn’t matter since she would not be able to see the night creatures anyway. But a new and growing part of her knew that she would be
aware of their presence. And this was a small and necessary price to pay for a sixth, seventh, eight and possibly ninth sense that each assured
her that there was no jaguar silently watching and waiting. She trudged on through the undergrowth in search of a cave. She sank up to her
thigh with her next step, and in the waning light she saw it. An opening in the earth. It smelled deep and vast to her. She stooped over and went
inside. There was nothing but blackness. The darkest darkness she had ever experienced. The quietest quiet except for the high-pitched
peeping of thousands or millions of bats. Panic overtook her for a moment. She flipped the switch on her flashlight. Nothing. She beat it against
the heel of her hand and the bulb shone an anemic ray of amber light that only served to illuminate stalagmites and stalactites that formed
enormous teeth poised to devour her whole. Her mind shot back to the capybara and the anaconda with its huge, unhinged jaws. Her terror was
replaced with an odd feeling of belonging as the cave became lighter. Her flashlight was now completely dead, but Jennifer could see in the
darkness. The more she released herself to the power of the cave the brighter it became. There was a small, clear pool of water in one of the
alcoves of the cave. Jennifer entered and stared down into the liquid darkness. She was greeted by her true reflection. It was as though she
had never seen herself before.
decided that it was the right thing to do based on listening sessions. She knew exactly where she was without benefit of a GPS device linked to
invisible satellites. She was in the moment. Not the past or future, but in the moment. On her way to discover the only thing she could truly
discover: herself.
There was a part of her that knew that the only thing that made sense was for her to confront her greatest fears. Because she felt that,
without a doubt, her best and worst parts lived in the folds of those fears. No. The fears did not take on the form of a three-headed,
misunderstood dragon like the one she saw in the animated movie she watched with her daughter, Holly, before she boarded a plane for Sao
Paulo, Brazil. But, oddly enough, the fear did have three distinct parts: Fear of darkness. Fear of silence. And the ultimate fear of caves. She
laughed to herself, through the thick blanket of gnats and other annoying, biting insects, that a person can’t control the things that one fears or
ask them to only surface at appointed times. But we can choose to consciously seek them out and look them in the eye. Such deliberateness
seemed to suck a little power away from the feared thing. At least this is what she told herself as she trudged through the damp forest with her
arms, legs and face as glistening and sweaty as the large leaves of plants that wrapped their tendrils around her ankles as she walked.
The sun was low in the western sky. It would be dark in a couple of hours. The light was already looking different in a way that was hard to
describe. Everything looked dreamlike. Kind of translucent with an orange/gold kind of glow. Maybe the strangest thing of all was that Jennifer
wasn’t only seeing with her eyes. She was taking it all in with other senses. Touch, sight, smell, taste and hearing all joined together to form a
new way of experiencing things. Like the color of the setting sun and the light it cast, what she was experiencing was impossible to put words
to. She felt a kind of clarity that she had never experienced before and she felt capable of delivering her message with the deftness of a
machete slashing humid forest plants that stood in the way of imagined paths. But words were not the way to convey the meaning of knowledge
that grew somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
She felt a sharp sensation on the left part of her face and looked up to see the blindingly bright feathers of a toucan. The image of the large
bird existed in her mind before she actually saw it. The thick undergrowth writhed, parted and moved toward a shallow pool of water. Jennifer
knew what it was, and her eyes — that had momentarily regained the sole function of seeing — confirmed what she already knew: an enormous
anaconda was moving quickly and stealthily towards a seemingly unaware capybara that was struck and slowly swallowed as its feet scurried
as though it was actually going somewhere. In the sandy areas of the forest floor, leafcutter ants carried slices of leaves that were many times
their size. The destination was unknown to Jennifer, but the ants were on their way there in a very orderly fashion and with great speed and
determination. Egrets hunted nonchalantly for fish in the estuaries formed by the Atlantic Ocean and Amazon tributaries. The voices of hundreds
of howler monkeys screamed at the two-legged intruder from high in the forest canopy. Some of the small Amazon River tributaries seemed to
bleed — the redness came from the roots of mangrove trees that sought earth beneath the surface of the water.
The sun was lower on the horizon now. It would be dark in a matter of minutes. The dragonflies did not seem to care. The gnats had
retreated to wherever gnats go when it starts to get dark. The animal night shift was soon to come alive. Jennifer thought to herself that it
wouldn’t matter since she would not be able to see the night creatures anyway. But a new and growing part of her knew that she would be
aware of their presence. And this was a small and necessary price to pay for a sixth, seventh, eight and possibly ninth sense that each assured
her that there was no jaguar silently watching and waiting. She trudged on through the undergrowth in search of a cave. She sank up to her
thigh with her next step, and in the waning light she saw it. An opening in the earth. It smelled deep and vast to her. She stooped over and went
inside. There was nothing but blackness. The darkest darkness she had ever experienced. The quietest quiet except for the high-pitched
peeping of thousands or millions of bats. Panic overtook her for a moment. She flipped the switch on her flashlight. Nothing. She beat it against
the heel of her hand and the bulb shone an anemic ray of amber light that only served to illuminate stalagmites and stalactites that formed
enormous teeth poised to devour her whole. Her mind shot back to the capybara and the anaconda with its huge, unhinged jaws. Her terror was
replaced with an odd feeling of belonging as the cave became lighter. Her flashlight was now completely dead, but Jennifer could see in the
darkness. The more she released herself to the power of the cave the brighter it became. There was a small, clear pool of water in one of the
alcoves of the cave. Jennifer entered and stared down into the liquid darkness. She was greeted by her true reflection. It was as though she
had never seen herself before.
