You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
Those of you who have read George Orwell’s book, Nineteen Eighty-Four, probably remember Room 101. To be honest, I read the book when I was a senior in high school, some 35 years ago and I had forgotten all about Room 101. Room 101 is a torture chamber where its prisoners are subjected to their worst nightmares, fears, or phobias.
You asked me once, what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world. ~O’Brien
When I read this prompt, I guess I let out a little moan. I didn’t want to go there and by that I mean I didn’t want to write about my greatest fear. That’s pretty deep and personal and I just wasn’t feeling up to that challenge today.
It did however get me thinking about all my fears (and believe me, I have a few). And while this may not be my BIGGEST fear, it’s definitely a biggie (and an irrational one I know). It would be a room full of these.
Every spring, the red wasps start coming into our house. I’ve never figured out how they get in (they seem to just materialize or come through the walls) and it seems their confusion about where exactly they’re supposed to be lasts about 2-3 weeks before they start deciding the great outdoors is much better than my den or basement. I’ve heard people say, “Oh, just leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone.” Not true in my experience! I’ve been dive bombed by these evil little bastards more times than I can count for no reason at all. They angrily plunge their gigantic stingers into my body and inject their wicked venom. And if you’ve never been stung by a red wasp, consider yourself lucky! Their sting feels no less like someone is holding a red-hot poker to your skin for a half-minute or more.
I run like a girl when I see them in the house and yell for hubby who shakes his head and rolls his eyes and gets the unfortunate task of killing or removing the beasts. I can’t even pick up or sweep up a dead one. Ewwww. There’s a couple of weeks where I’m terrified to go down in the basement, so needless to say the laundry doesn’t get done during those 2-3 weeks, unless someone comes down to “wasp spot” for me. And I only go down if I have a can of wasp and hornet spray in each hand. My husband is forever joking with me about getting me a bee suit.
I remember a time 4-5 years ago when we were having a new roof put on our house. I happened to be outside when the roofers began tearing off the old roof. The red wasps, who obviously had nests under the shingles came out in droves to defend their territory. They were swarming around and stinging the roofers, who were just calmly trying to swat them away. It was that day that I decided I didn’t miss my calling as a roofer. I was certain had I been up there, I would have taken a flying leap off the roof to try to escape the venomizing rascals. Only one roofer had to come down and he had been stung so many times, his eyes were starting to swell shut. He wasn’t feeling so well. I ran into the house, grabbed my bottle of Benadryl out of the medicine cabinet, and finally convinced the man, who kept telling me he would be fine, to take it. No one was dying on me from anaphylaxis from red wasp venom that day!
I’m not sure where my irrational fear of red wasps came from but it’s firmly seated. My husband always says, “I pity the poor people who are on the road near you if a red wasp should ever fly in your car window when you’re driving.” He’s right. I’m pretty sure I would jump out of a moving vehicle to get away from one. Yeah, I already know…. I need therapy.