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Liminal Spaces Creep Me Out
Something about liminal spaces gives me the willies in a scary way.
They raise the tiny hairs on the back of my neck by my C2-Vertebrae
I feel like an ominous evil spirit is going to whisper in my ear and startle me
There is a quickening of my heart, and I feel threatened in some tiny way.
There is an acute expectation of being murdered or of being hurt.
I cannot explain it, there are no words sufficient to show you my feelings.
I am an empath, perhaps this is the price I pay for it.
I don’t understand these feelings myself, they are just there, unbidden, but alert.
Smelly scary city stairwells are creepy to me; I avoid them at all costs.
They are all smelly to me for I can smell the people who have been on them.
There is an incredible feeling of undeniable discomfort that I cannot explain.
It comes from deep within the recesses and the hairy hair hairs of my soul.
Liminal spaces give me anxiety, feed my fears.
Empty schools have hallways that remind me of coffins.
I feel like I am in a tomb if there is an absence of children.
No talking, no skipping, no giggling, no humanity.
My most feared liminal space is a hotel hallway at midnight.
I expect to be snatched, shaken, stomped or slapped.
By a spirit, a vampire, a demon, something.
I avoid this kind of space by being locked into my room by nine.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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