A Lesson In Fear

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"Fear is a lesson every child should learn," Mother once said. "Fear protects us."

She believed fear would keep me safe from the Mist and the demons that invaded our forest every night. From sunset to sunrise we sealed ourselves inside our home, the hollowed-out trunk of a Slumbering Oak. Our only refuge.

Although the demons could not enter our home, their voices could. So we sealed ours ears with wool at night.

Mother still feared I might hear their words, so she often told me, "Whatever they say, whatever you hear, it's all untrue. Demons only lie. Understand, Jori?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Don't believe a word of it. They only lie."

"Yes, Mother."

"They are evil, soulless monsters that eat elves. They'll wear your skin as a hat and pluck out your eyes for jam on toast. Do you want that?"

"No, Mother."

"So how do you stay safe?"

"Obey the Rules."

"And don't be brave. That's how they got the Others." And then Mother would add, "Courage kills. Fear keeps us smart. Remember that."

"Yes, Mother."

These conversations ended in a hug and Mother whispering in my ear, "That's my good girl. My sweet Majorie."

Only later did I learn the real reason Mother taught me fear.  

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