Saturday, April 21, 2012

What Goes Chomp in the Night (Short Story)

Another drop of sweat dripped down John’s back as he packed his things into the car. The heat was unbearable on his sunburned skin. He kept thinking that he should do it later and leave the next day. He was in a rush ever since he got the call from his brother that their father had passed away that morning. But time was slowly running out, and the shadows knew it. As John stood in the sun, the shadows looked like they were running away. Away from a condemned soul.
The highway was bustling with cars. Some were moving as if time was moving too fast for them. For John, time couldn’t move more slowly. John turned on the radio, hoping that it will pass the time.
“Good evening, folks!” the radio announcer exclaimed, “It was a scorcher for June 13th here in Houston, the hottest June on record! Anyway, President-Elect Nixon announced today that the race to the moon would end with Apollo 11.”
“Heh, Nixon, he’s not gonna last long in office,” John mumbled to himself as he turned off the radio.
John looked out at the highway exit, no cars were exiting here. “I should just take the longer way, it’s probably faster than this traffic mess,” he thought.
Without much thought over the subject, John exited the highway onto a muddy two-lane road. The road winded through the forest that transformed into misty bayou. About ten miles into the road John saw signs of the nearest town being about five miles away and Baton Rouge fifty miles. He never looked at his fuel gauge since he got off the highway. As soon as he saw the gauge, his car slowed to a steady halt. Smoke started to rise from the hood.
John took his journal and marked where his car was. When he got out, it didn’t take long for him to hitch a ride into town. As John got into the tank of a truck he said to the driver, “Thank you so much, my car broke down from all this heat, I guess.”
“No problem, Lee Ann has an auto shop and’ll tow it back to town. I’m Billy Joe,” the driver held out his hand so he could shake John’s hand.
John wondered about something. Billy Joe was incredibly short, like he should still be in school, but his voice and eyes were so old. John noticed that Billy Joe’s teeth were all green and black, probably from all the tobacco. Billy Joe had to use blocks of wood to reach the pedals. Seeing that almost made John chuckle.
“Now, listen, Lee Ann is a pretty weird town,” the seriousness in Billy Joe’s voice startled John, “just stay away from the Madame De Pompadour Hotel. I’ve dropped off countless people who have broken down at that mile marker to that hotel, but they never come back out. I call the hotel, but they say that that such person checked into a room. I don’t like the place. I’ll drop you off at the auto shop, but don’t set a foot inside that hotel.”
“How many drinks have you had, sir?”
“It doesn’t matter how much I’ve had!” Billy Joe swerved around down the road.
John could now smell the liquor on Billy Joe’s breath.
“I think I’ll just walk from here,” John said. And without much thought John got out of the tank truck.
The walk into town was split between is he right or is he just a crazy drunk. One he got to the shack that is Lee Ann’s auto shop, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at the hotel.
“He did say don’t go into it,” John thought.
So John walked the two blocks to the Madame De Pompadour Hotel. The hotel looked like it could fall apart at any time. The bricks were chipping away, the windows were yellow shades, and the door had holes from what looked like termites. Who would want to stay in the shipwreck?
“Crazy drunk,” John said to himself.
John walked back down the dark streets to the auto shop. There looked like there was no sign of life in Lee Ann. He paid the towing workers to get his car, but they said it wouldn’t be until morning.
“Crocs flood the streets at night,” one of the workers said.
“Well is there anywhere I can stay that isn’t falling apart?”
“The Pompadour.”
“Could I just sleep here?”
“The Pompadour.”
John knew no one in Lee Ann, no one he could stay with. There was no other option, he had to go to the Pompadour. Thoughts and scenarios were racing through his mind. “What is in the hotel that people would go missing? What would happen to me if I go in? Would I come back out?” The questions flashed as he stepped up to the rotted front doors of the hotel and opened the door.
He was in awe. The interior of the hotel was nowhere near the outside he saw when he first arrived in Lee Ann. Chandeliers, marble counters, and A/C. Why would someone ever turn you away from this place? The building was stunning, John walked up to the attendant at the front desk.
“I need a room for the night, please,” John said to the attendant.
“Sure thing, darl’!” the attendant turned to reveal a figure that nearly sent John screaming. This thing that appeared to be a woman had a very slender figure, her left arm was much disfigured, and her right eye seemed to be jumping out of her face. He had patches of bald spot in her hair. John looked to notice a nametag that read: Idris.
“So, Idris, there are a lot of rooms here for a small Louisiana town.”
“There’s a room for everyone,” she lifted her head and stared at John, “even you.”
John felt a bit weird around Idris, “So, er, um, which room do I have?”
“Room 2214, just down the hall to the left.”
“Thanks,” John couldn’t be more relieved to get out of the sight of that woman.
And so John started to walk away, but he heard Idris mumbling. He wasn’t sure what she was saying but he was pretty sure she was saying, “Here comes the night to put you to bed. Here comes a croc to chomp off your head. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.”
John started to get worried about what might be waiting in his room. He walked down the hall and took a left down another hall. When he reached a balcony, he got confused. So he walked back, but could never find an end to the halls. Elevator music began playing through the speakers. He quickened his pace almost to a run when something ran into the right side of his body.
It was woman, the exact opposite of Idris. She was shorter than John, with long blonde hair curled to her shoulders. She looked as stunning as the hotel they were trapped in.
“Sorry about that, my rooms keep changing,” she said.
“What, do they keep changing your room to a better one?”
“No, the doors literally change,” there was no sign of sarcasm in her voice, “along with the halls.”
“Are you sure you’re not just getting lost?”
“I’m not lost! Look at the room numbers, if you leave and come back the next second they all will be different.”
“It could just be a trick, they do it all the time in films.”
“You calling me a liar!? These words coming out of my mouth are the truth! You must be new to this hotel. I’m the last one out of my group of five.”
“What happened to the others?”
“Well, they might come back.”
“No, they all are dead. And I’ve got to get to my room before it comes out.”
John didn’t want her to be alone, but she looked like she could handle herself in a bad situation. “Well, my name is John, in case the halls decide to split us up.”
“Kathy.” And in that moment, she was gone.
But another moment was when he heard the scream. John sprinted to see Kathy’s legs at the end of the hall, there was a bloody gash in her left leg. As John ran for her, she began to be dragged. When John turned the corner, he saw the long tail. The lights made it hard to tell what the tail looked like. But when John blinked, it was gone, along with Kathy. John kept running trying find the beast that took Kathy. After about five minutes of constant running, John stumbled into a hall which only contained one door. His door. Room 2214.
After what he has seen this past day, he didn’t want to see what was waiting for him in his room. But another blink of his eyes, and he saw a note taped with his name written on it. Curiosity took over as he went to examine the note. The note read: John, HELP ME!
John figured that Kathy might still be alive right now. So without thought he entered the pitch black room, but only to find it empty. He searched for some lights, but could never find a switch. As the door closed, the lights instantly turned on. The dim glow from the bulbs revealed a large and long shadow across the room. He could spot red eyes that were fixed right at him and nowhere else. The unblinking eyes showed that John was not getting out of that room alive.
Then the lights went out. John dove for the bathroom door. The thud from his head let him know he was there. The lights faded back on to the dimness that it had before, but only to show those eyes staring back at him through the door. The lights started to flicker, and with every flicker the shadow moved closer. John began to hear a growl that sounded similar to the devil’s laughter. He saw teeth that were jagged and dripped of blood, Kathy’s blood.
John thought of her in those moments, “What is left of her? Was she in this room when she died? Was that the reason for the note on the door?”
But before he could get answers, the lights went out for the final time.
Morning rose over Lee Ann. Even then, no one left their home. John’s car was towed into town, but no John there to claim it. All of his belongings were found in a small wooden crate on the bayou. A body was never recovered.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Crack to Pandorica (Short Story)

It was cloudy, just like it always was in Rapture. The cold morning air in Utah always lingered until about lunchtime. Every house on Baker Street had smoke rising from their chimneys.
It was still dark when Ryan woke up, he glanced at the clock to find it was only five-thirty in the morning. It was what woke him that stressed him out the most. The humming. The never ending humming.
Ryan first noticed the humming when getting home late the previous night. He was too drunk to even notice the hum as weird, but when he woke up it faded to a stop. Ryan kept wondering where the mysterious humming was coming from. His house was the newest on the block, the house before it was burnt to the ground by the previous owners. Ryan moved to Rapture when his architecture firm moved here a few years ago. He moved in with no knowledge of what happened. And now for this house to be making noises like this, it was too weird.
After spending too much time trying to find the source, Ryan gave up and left for work. He styled his hair the same bedhead sort of way. When he left the gray in the sky brought out the grey in his eyes. His firm was designing a new building complex in downtown Rapture. He was working alongside his neighbor, Lucy Pasterna. Lucy had big, blonde hair that seemed to radiate it's own sunlight. She always had a smile whenever Ryan walked by. Even though they were neighbors, they liked each other. They worked well together. The blue prints Ryan drew and the models Lucy made all the other architects think they both run on the same mind.
Ryan and Lucy both went to lunch at a Mexican restaurant they always went to on Fridays. Ryan only liked the place for their burritos.
It seemed like an enjoyable lunch, until Lucy broke in with, "Why did you have the lights on all last night?"
"All the lights were off, Lucy," Ryan replied.
"They were. They were so bright they woke me up at one in the morning."
"That's when I got to sleep. Are you sure you weren't hallucinating?"
"I know what I saw, Ryan! They were on until five-thirty. I was trying to call you, but your phone was dead."
"My phone was fine."
"It was so weird, I mean you never leave your lights on, or have your phone turned off."
"The only unusual thing was the humming in my house."
"Yeah, it started when I got home and ended the moment I woke up."
It took Ryan a moment to realize. The Lights and the humming both started when when he got home, and the both ended at the time he woke up. The connection sent him through a frenzied panic. The lights, the hum, all circling around what?
Ryan gained a heightened paranoia for the rest of the day. He was too scared to go back into his own home. The thought of what is waiting for him was too much for him to handle, especially since he got assigned the Downtown Project. So Lucy invited for him to stay the night at her house so he has a place to stay for the night. Even though he had to sleep on a ten year old couch, he was grateful that Lucy was so nice to him.
"If you need anything, just knock on my door. It's up the stairs, second door on the left," Lucy said.
"Okay, got it. And thank you so much for having me spend the night here, it really means a lot," Ryan replied.
"No problem neighbor." Lucy began to laugh a bit then went back upstairs.
That night was the most uncomfortable sleep Ryan had ever had. The couch was old and dusty. It was the kind of thing that was so old it should be an exhibit in a museum. To get Ryan's mind off the couch he stared at the clock, which, too, should be in a museum.
At one was when he saw it.  Just a flicker out of the corner of his eye, then a blinding blast of light burst through, entering every corner of the room. His disbelief sent him into another panic. Every window was ablaze with a blinding white light. But what happened next threw him into a state of sheer terror.
Ryan didn't notice the moving shadow across the lights at first, but when it came into his bedroom window, he froze still. The shadow just stood there right in the center of the window, right over his bed. The shadow was tall and slender. IT looked human, but the body was too tall and skinny, and the arms were abnormally long. Nothing more seemed to catch Ryan's attention. Ryan and the shadow just stood there until about five-thirty, Ryan could tell because that's when the shadow moved again. It just turned around, left the view of the window, and disappeared along with the lights.
Ryan spent the final few hours before sunrise just sitting on the couch. Was that thing there the other night? What was it doing there? What was it? Is it coming back? The questions remained with Ryan throughout the day.
That day Lucy and Ryan hung out around the town. They went back to the Mexican restaurant for lunch.
That's when Ryan asked," Did you see the shadow in the window last night?"
"No, I had the curtains closed so I could at least sleep," Lucy replied, knowing that Ryan would mention the lights.
Ryan told Lucy everything that happened the last night. Lucy was a little less terrified than Ryan was, but nonetheless in disbelief.
When he got home, he was too tired to to notice that he was walking into what terrified him most. He crashed on the couch in his living room. He kept reminding himself that this was all in his head.
Nothing is gonna happen tonight, he kept thinking.
He seemed to have dozed off because when he woke up it was one o'clock on the dot. That's when it began, the humming. Ryan noticed it was coming from his bedroom. He grabbed a kitchen knife as to defend himself from the shadow thing. The house was engulfed in darkness, which made Ryan trip over several things on his way around the house to his bedroom. As he go closer, the humming grew louder. When he got to his bedroom, the humming was unbearable to his ear. He saw a faint glow coming from the bottom crack of his bathroom door. Curiosity got the better of him as he turned the doorknob and entered the room. That's when he saw it. The glowing crack just above his mirror. The humming was so intense now that Ryan's nose started to bleed. But at this point he didn't care anymore.
In the mirror was his own reflection, but something was off. The reflected Ryan had cuts and bruises, and then the shadow appeared. The thing seemed to be wearing a black suit, but the head contained no hair nor any sign of a face. The arms were abnormally long as he first saw from the last night.
"Tick tock, Goes the clock," the shadow began to sing, "Ryan, soon you will, be taken through and into, when you understand, the silence that's behind you."
The nursery rhyme, what does it mean? But when he looked out of the corner of his eye, it was already too late. The thing was already behind him. Ryan tried to run to the furthest point of the room. He glanced at the mirror to see a dead Ryan Silverstone lying on the floor with a pool surrounding the corpse.
Ryan's terror and panic were showing through his sweat. The sight of him dead in front of him was too much for him to grasp.
"Tick tock," the thing was now walking towards Ryan very slowly.
"No, please, go away!" Ryan was pleading with his hands pressed to his head, trying to protect him from this nightmare.
"Ryan, time to go, it waits for you in time, and you, soon will die, at the end of the rhyme."
At that moment the thing reached out with its long arms to Ryan and touched his head. In the split second it took, Ryan felt like he was being thrown across the room  for minutes.
When he hit the wall, he knew it was over. As he began to come back to his senses, he realized it was five-thirty. Ryan threw his head back to catch the glimpse of the dead Ryan less than three feet away from him. The hairs on his arms were plucked from their socket due to the overflowing fear and terror running through his bloodstream. Pain was flowing through his head, he couldn't feel his right ankle. When Ryan looked back at the direction of the dead Ryan, the body was slowly disappearing along with the crack above the mirror.
The pain was too much for him. He drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. When he woke, he couldn't stand. The pain seemed to have doubled overnight. His head was throbbing. He went to the mirror to find a beaten and bloody Ryan. He had cuts and bruises all up and down his body. There was a knot on his forehead. his clothes were torn and stretched like he just got out of a bad fight.
He went to the garage and found the step ladder in the pile of junk that cluttered his garage. When he got back to the mirror, he stepped on the ladder and found something unusual. A draft of air was blowing through the blank wall. And through the impossible pathway in the wall, he heard a voice.
"Tick tock, goes the clock," the voice sang.
Ryan recognized it immediately, it was Lucy's voice.
"Tick tock," it repeated.
Ryan was wondering what was going on. Why was Lucy singing the rhyme?
"Ryan, you are gone, you left me , now you, will die in, the crack that is Pandorica."
Pandorica? What was that? Ryan began to worry bout what will happen to her or what has already happened to her.Ryan just stared into the mirror, and that's when he noticed the major detail. A detail so noticeable that you would need to be blind not to see it. Out of the corner of his eye, was the clock. Sure, any clock looks the same, but he looked closer to notice that the clock was backwards. The sight was outrageous but there it was clear as day. The thing that could explain where he was was staring at him right in his face.
Then it all came back to him. What happened when that thing touched him. He is now in the mirror, like an alternate universe. Ryan went through the crack to get here. This was Pandorica.
Now he began on another subject, the thing said he would die soon. And as night fell, Ryan stayed close to the bathroom door. He figured that if the thing brought him here then it can bring him back.
When the humming began he felt a tremor in his heart, like he was having a heart attack. The pain was excruciating. He stayed conscious enough to wait for the thing to show. But the voice appeared before the thing did.
"Ryan, you grew up, with every moment I framed for you, now go, to the mirror, and destiny will wait for you to see."
An unknown thought was put into his mind, find a way to warn his past self. He ran to the door the same second his past self did, but within a few seconds he collapsed to the floor. In his final seconds of his life he saw his past self against the wall with the thing. He looked down to see his heart exploded and burst through his chest. There was already a pool of blood all around him.
In a news report a few weeks later, Ryan's body was discovered in the woods outside of Renegal, Utah. His body mangled and bloody, almost unrecognizable. A note was found pinned to a nearby tree, the note contained words from a nursery rhyme.
"Lucy, your turn has come, come and see what's left behind here, Ryan's, dead and gone, and taken by the fear."
Ryan's house remained in a lockdown, until a week later when the city incinerated the house. Now, if you're close enough and just a bit lucky, you'll hear the hum that killed Ryan Silverstone.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Making My Way In My Way Of Getting There

Greetings peoples! And may I say happy new year to you all! It's been a while since I put something in here, but in that time I remembered something:
People say I'm good at playing guitar. But when they ask if I ever took lessons, I respond with a simple "no." Now I know I'm not the best guitarist out there, but I'm happy with how I play. People seem impressed on how I play and how I got there, but it has never crossed my mind. I don't know how to play a G#/E# whatever chord, and that's okay. I prefer to not get confused with the names of chords. I just play what sounds good to my ear.
The same goes for when I learn a song by say Secondhand Serenade, Foo Fighters, or Van Halen. I find the chords or note that sounds like what I hear in the song. And if it doesn't sound right, then I'll mess around with that certain chord to make it sound right. Sometimes I'll look up how the artist will play the particular song live so I get the sense for how it the chord should sound or look. I enjoy stumbling onto songs when I'm just messing around with chords or notes on my guitar.
There are two types of guitarists when you get rid of genre: The ones who took lessons and the ones who didn't. There are some that took years of lessons and became successful in their way of making music or scores. But there are the few (like me) who never took lessons and are making their way happily. Either way is fine, and no one is the same at playing any instrument.
And the lack of lessons gives me an open eye on how to make a song. I don't have the boundaries that some might have. Though I do get a writer's block when it comes to song writing. But when I get the inspiration for a song, my whole day is wasted on trying to take that chord or chord progression in my mind into an actual song.
But so far, I'm one step closer to finding the one song that I'll be remembered for. All will need is that extra push to find it. And the same goes to you, too.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Wish For Something True

It's been a while since I posted something. I keep getting writer's block when I try to write more stories, and it's irritating me to the twelfth degree. But I'm still continuing with my music. I'm still in the demo process, but as far as I can see it's turning out really well. I have several songs in the demo process, and a few more in my head. The song I'm wanting is still out there, waiting for me.
If you're still waiting for your song like I am. Maybe it's time to try something new. If you stay with that same path that you take everyday, you will never find what you're looking for. Don't be the man who can't be moved. If you're stuck somewhere and you're not happy with it, try a different route. Find something better, more suited to what YOU want to do. Take that risk, because it will pass you by in a blink. Find that path to happiness.
Of course, if you're perfectly happy where you're at now in life, then disregard everything that I am saying now. Let this all fly right over your shoulders like wind in the mountains. This blog is not for you. Turn around and walk away.
But if this blog helps someone get the courage to take that chance that could potentially ruin their life, but succeed, then I will feel accomplished. I want people to be happy, just like me. Happiness is that emotion that no one seems to get. It's that feeling of "You are where you are best fit and you're proud of it." That sense of Nirvana in your life. That acknowledgement of you're dreams becoming reality. Once you're in that state, you are truly happy. But getting to that state takes time, again different for everyone on this planet. And there are some who got to a certain point in life that nothing could ever make them happy. It's gonna take those kind of people a long while to get to their happiness. If you fell further than anyone could have ever fallen before. It doesn't mean you have to start over on happiness, though it may feel that way. You could be the hero and the next minute the villain, but don't think that you've lost. If you were doing good, then keep doing what you're doing. If you see people try to stop your happiness and kick you to the dirt, take their negativity and turn it into your positivity because you're not them.
If this helped you get closer to finding your song, then great! If not, then better luck down the road. I'm getting closer to my song as well with every blog. Which this makes me very excited for what's to come.

Monday, August 15, 2011

You Are Not Alone

Everyone thinks that they are alone in the universe, that there is no love out there for them. They think they are too small or less important than the average human being. They wonder why their life has gotten to that point. Everyone has this sudden occurance at some point in their lives. It may consume you, or it may be that fleck upon your shoulder in the corner of your head.
But just know this, You Are Not Alone. There are many others, like you, who have gone through the same things. You may never meet them in your lifetime. They may be you in the 51st century, or the 17th century. But they have lived through the hardships that you have lived through. The heartbreak, the sadness, the anger, the apathy, and the hopelessness. Just because they have lived through a different generation doesn't mean they haven't lived through the same emotions that you have lived through. And, of course, there are those in your lifetime that are exactly like you. They may be half way across the world, but they know what it feels like to go through that particular point in time. 
You are not alone in this universe. There are countless others like you, scattered out there. You may know some, but will keep their feelings secret like you do. Just be open to the people you're close to, you never know who is going through the same thing.
Don't stay hopeless, let life take you by the hand and take you down the road to a happy life. There, you will meet the people just like you. Keep positive on finding the right song that others will talk about for ages to come. Don't let your song end with a bad note, make sure you live a brilliant life. If you have a bad note, make the song better with positive reinforcement. That way others will listen to your song and cheer of the life that was well lived, full of life and hope.
I'm getting closer to finding my song with each passing day. I find that I am not alone in the universe. I live by a word, a big and complicated word, but so sad. Alive. It's gets sad when it's over. But I will always live alive until the day that I die.
And with that, remember what I have said.
You Are Not Alone.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Starting From Scratch

Finding your song wobbles between easy and hard, depending on the song you want that will make you remembered. But no matter which song you choose, you'll ultimately have to start from scratch. Don't just jump into getting the whole song done in an hour. Put some time and thought into it. Make two or three demos of the song to make sure you're getting the parts right. And have some high expectations about your song, even thought it'll be under the radar for a good amount of time. And in the meantime, show it to your friends, family, or anyone who actually wants to listen to it, get their feedback about it, and work on the criticisms. Your first song won't be the next big thing, not all hits are the first song that comes out into the world.
If that first song isn't a success, don't down yourself. Work on the music. Great bands always have songs that have never made it out into the world. And if that's the way it's gonna be, then let it be. I personally am working on new music of my own, but am having trouble like all great music icons have.
But I'm starting from scratch both in the technical and the personal points of finding my one song. The songs I have recorded are turning out really well. Most are just me punching it on the songs.
Punching it, for the people who don't know, is basically forcing a chord and writing what comes out of my mouth. I used to do this for practice, write a song in ten minutes to exercise that part of the brain that thinks quickly. But even punching it is hard to do when you try to mix instruments in the same part of the song. I advise to try to make songs just acousticly first. Don't go and make a full studio song if it's never gonna get out there. Plus acoustic lets you practice your singing, getting it to that area that makes you sound great. 
If you feel like you're giving up on your song, take a break. Come back to it with fresh eyes and look at it completely different so you get your audience's view of the song. Vacations or camps are the best ways just to take a break from songwriting, but hanging out with your friends works just has well.
With that, don't get too caught up in finding your song that you forget your life. Start from scratch so you don't go back to what went wrong. And most of all, KEEP POSITIVE! I've seen too many people think that their life is worthless, so keep that mellow attitude about yourself. Mellowness in your life creates mellow music that will keep you a mellow fellow for years to come.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Don't Look Down

Memories are what help us remember things. It could be good memories or bad memories. Everyone has a little of both. Because no one has had the perfect life, we all have had our hearts broken once in a while. The memories that have the most effect are the bad memories. I say this because they make you look down. They make your face go sour, and your eyes dark. And once you look down, you fall.
Your falling because that bad memory scared you. It causes you to look down and give you that shock of fear that will ultimately cause you to plummet to your immediate death.
My advice has two different directions, the songwriter's direction and the writer's direction. Both similar in some ways, but at the same time completely different.
First, the songwriter's direction. You take that fear and use that energy to turn it into something creative. Use those feelings and make something of it, don't bottle it up. Bottling it up will only cause you to snap and eventually hurt the people you love. I use my fear and turn them into songs. I find a memory (whether good or bad) and find words that make sense musically and also get the message across. It's not hard to find something. Sketching, songwriting, or poem writing are all brilliant ways to express your feelings in a positive form.
Second, the writer's direction. Just summing up what I said before with ways to express yourself. But with writing you can talk through it. Writing an angry letter and not sending it seems to work, only remember to not send it on accident. Or through places like this where you can let your anger out expressively and getting people who are going through the same things to respond and take notice.
If the fear makes you cry, cry. But don't let the get the best of you. They want you to fear them so they can have control. Fear is a very controllable emotion. If you are a very emotional person, fear can be distributed and controlled. When they say 'people smell fear,' they mean it. If you fear something with your life, then it will show without notice. But you must learn to control your own fear.
Learning to control your fear isn't easy at first, and it's sometimes pretty scary. But all you need to do is find a place to store all your emotions that aren't in your own bottle. Try art or songwriting, those are the ones that will never let you down.
With that, don't look down and live alive.