“A Chucky toy, the bearer of the killer’s soul.

I can remember the day I received a precious gift of fear. A fear unknown to the child's mind inside of me, a tingling sensation of goosebumps running down my arms to my feet. The darkness of a Saturday night devoured my room as I sat in the loneliness of the darkness. My heart started pounding, faster than I had experienced running the little marathon at school. My scream held itself captive inside my lungs as the fast breaths I was taking guarded any sound from escaping. Tears rolled down my cheeks, landing on my chin, and finally dripping onto my knees, forming wet drops on my shorts. It was a hot summer, the heat of the sun that had gone down a few hours ago still lingering on the sides of my room, making it hard not to sweat. Or was it the fear that caused those little drops of sweat to refuse to mix with the tears on my shorts?

With the eyes of a child, the arrogance that kept me alive that night, the bet I had made my biggest regret, never to be weak, never to be scared, the self-taught bravery that I smeared all over my expressions, I gazed into the red-like screen as Chucky pulled one of his knives and presented it to his victims with a heavy grin on his face. The next scene of the knife was a bloody terror shown through the filter of his victims eyes. The shock prevented my eyes from looking away, suddenly consciousness logged out and I went to sleep, promising myself in a calming manner to never be brave again.

I can remember the day I received a precious gift of fear, my cousin with a smile on his face handed me the Chucky toy, the bearer of the killer's soul.