Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be
able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now for tonights micro terror Setophobia by Scott Donnelly. It
was tuck in time. I felt like I was getting
too old for this. I was ten years old now
and finally had my own room away from my little
sister Kylie. I was free from the unicorns and princesses,
the pink colors and flowing purple curtains. Now I had
a Neon game oversign buzzing during the day while I
played video games, a poster of Godzilla spraying fire over Tokyo,
and posters for bands that I knew were cool because
of social norms but hadn't really listened to yet, but
I planned to. My parents were next door, kissing Kylie
goodnight and tucking her in. I heard my mom's sweet
dreams and my Dad's don't let those creepy little bedbugs bite.
Then I heard Kylie ask them a question. It was
either a stall tactic on her end to extend the bedtime,
or just one of those random questions that popped into
her mind throughout the day that she, for some reason
felt the need to ask at bedtime. In the past,
it was always something like do rainbows cry when they disappear?
Or can squirrels make the honor roll if they're smart enough?
But tonight, tonight was a new one. Are sharks reel?
I heard Kylie ask. I heard my dad laugh, and
the squeak of the bed as my mom must have
sat down to consolet her. Yes, honey, sharks are real,
my mom said, Are you afraid of them? Yes, Kylie whimpered.
I'd had enough. I sat up in my bed and
tore the covers off.
Speaker 2: Sharks can't hurt you, cryly, as long as they just
stay out of the ocean. Geez. It didn't take more
than a second for my dad to appear in my doorway.
He scowled at me. Hey, we don't discount your fears,
do we, he said. I don't have any fears, I said,
laying back down in bed. My dad came in and
covered me up at the blankets. Everybody fears something, Kyle,
and the fear of sharks is real. He said, it's
called galleophobia. My dad was always a wealth of random knowledge,
so it didn't surprise me at all that he knew
what the fear of sharks was called. Then my dad
did something that he did often. He began to reminisce.
I was sure it was going to be something about
music or games from his youth. I was wrong, but close.
I remember when I saw Jaws when I was a kid.
My dad said, can I watch it? I asked no.
My dad quickly responded, anyways, he continued. When I saw Jaws,
I was certain I would be terrified of sharks. Nearly
everyone who'd seen it had developed gallophobia. I'm sure that's
gonna be a fact. I rolled my eyes at his
second mention of the fear. But I'll tell you what, Kyle.
There was a scene in Jaws, away from all the
carnage and shark attacks that scared me more than anything.
The whale songs. I felt like my whole face contorted
the what the whale songs? There's a scene where the
characters are sitting on a boat at night, and in
the distance you can hear wales singing. A lot of
people think whale songs are beautiful and elegant. Some don't.
Some think they're eerie and haunting. And I'm one of them.
I nodded, yeah, And what's the fear of whales? Called Dad?
I was hoping to catch him off guard. However, my
dad's guard is always up and ready to respond. Set
a phobia, he said, the intense fear of whales. I've
had it ever since I watched my dad suffer a
visible chill up his body. He looked to grow uncomfortable
right before my eyes. He stood up. Okay, he said,
his mood now slightly off. Whale, have a good night.
He kissed me on the head. Wail, I asked, you said, Wail,
have a good night. My dad shook his head. I
didn't mean that. That was a malapropism, My bad a what?
He didn't respond and left the room, leaving me to
assume the latest word from his magical bag of words
had something to do with miss speaking. My mom came
in next and kissed me good night as well. Once
my parents had left, my room and closed the door.
I felt cold, I felt my dad's fear. I felt uncomfortable,
I felt confused by all the big words being thrown around.
Everything just felt awkward. As I lay in bed, I
could hear the wind outside blowing, howling like a hundred wolves.
It put me on edge, and I wondered if there
was a fear of wind, and if my dad knew
what that was called wind? A phobia, he would say.
I wondered about jaws and if people had a fear
of movies. I heard a dog bark outside, going up
against the wind. I knew people had a fear of dogs.
Did dogs fear of things? Loud noises? Maybe new people? Mailmen? No,
they hated mailmen. What did Maleman hate? Christmas?
Speaker 1: Time?
Speaker 2: Paper cuts? I looked over at my clock radio. The
time that glowed red was two thirty am. I had
been up for hours worrying and thinking about fears. Was
there a fear of fears? What started all of this anyway? Oh,
that's right, Cryly and her fear of sharks. But it
wasn't the sharks she needed to be afraid of. Not,
according to Dad, it was the whales. Why was it
the whales again. Outside. I noticed the wind to die down,
and everything around me started to calm. A dog barked
in the distance, wind chimes jingled outside. Then I heard
something that I knew I shouldn't have, something that should
not exist in the Midwest of America. It was the haunting,
eerie sound of a whale outside my window. It didn't
sound like a song, though it sounded like. It sounded
like the whale was trying to scare me. The sounds
that was making sent a chill through my body, just
as how my dad had reacted when he thought about
it was set a phobia genetic. I jumped out of
bed as the whale sounds out my window grew louder
and more sinister. I crept across my bedroom floor and
grabbed a hold of the curtains before slowly peeling them apart.
The spooky whale cries had stopped as I looked out
into the dark of the night. I waited, squinting my
eyes and desperately tried to pierce the inky black night
to see what was out there. But I couldn't see anything,
only the reflection of the glowing red numbers on my
clock radio. My heart rate finally started to slow back
down as I realized that I had probably just imagined
all of it. I took a deep breath and sighed
back out, bugging up my window with my breath. But
when I wiped the condensation away with a couple squeaky
swipes of my hand, that's when I saw it. It
was directly outside my window, looking in at me. It
was the head and face of a whale. It was slimy,
dripping with algae, and covered with barnacles and hundreds of
crawling crustaceans. It opened its mouth, slowly, releasing its haunting
song again and revealing its bristly band of baling. The
sickening sight made my stomach churn and my heart rate skyrocket.
I felt a flush of anxiety throughout my body, and
I quickly pulled the curtain shut and turned around. Only
then did I realize that the whale was not outside
my window, but was also a reflection, just like the
glowing numbers of my clock radio. The whale stood in
my room upright. It was larger than my dad and
hunched over like it had learned how to walk. It
dipped its head and expelled another eerie cry. I screamed
as loud as I could, and within seconds, the door
behind the whale opened. My dad was there to save
me from nothing. The whale was gone. There was nothing
else in my room other than myself than my dad
and the fading sounds of the whales. Cries. What's wrong,
my dad asked. I took a minute to regain my composure.
In that minute, my mom and Kylie appeared in my
doorway as well. Honey, what is it? Did you have
a nightmare? My mom asked, rushing in and wrapping her
arms around me. Whales, I said, in between short anxious breaths. Whales,
My dad said, seed a phobia. He reiterated, fears can
be genetic. Kylie walked into my room, rubbing the sleep
from her eyes. Whales can't hurt you, cry Lee, she
sarcastically said, as long as you stay out of the ocean. Geez, Well,
I guess I had that one coming.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening to micro Terrors.
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