Story: Autophobia (all chapters)

Authors: P4ND4 B34R

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Chapter 1

Title: Introduction

When it came to phobias, I never considered myself to have one. Just simple, everyday, normal fears; such as being afraid of hospitals or even worse- their needles. That’s a normal fear isn’t it? It’s just like someone being afraid of arachnids or heights. That is nothing compared to sill arachibutyrophobia, the fear of getting peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth. Nor are they as serious as scotophobia, the fear of darkness. They do not affect my life to the point that I cannot partake in activities. If I am ill, I suck it up and go to the doctors. I might have a minor panic session on the way there, but nothing more. I mean, who likes going to an asylum- type building with humans educated to kill you in a painless way—dressed in all white like their some kind of angel? Alright, I realize that sentence may make me seem out of my wits just a tad, but wouldn’t you exaggerate something to get your point across? There, now stop thinking I’m insane. But the main concept I’m trying to rely is this: I do not have phobias. They stimulate my interest, but a part of me finds them ridiculous. I can’t diss on them too much though; they are just as real to the people who suffer from them just as much ghosts are to me.

So, I’m sure you’re sitting there thinking, “Alright, I get it already. You don’t have any phobias. Now, why are you still rambling?” There is a valid reason for my ramblings. Really, there is! These words; my dear reader, are not to tell how I refuse to believe that I “own” a phobia, or to express my philosophy on why I think phobias are nothing but bogus or are figments of an over active imagination. No, through out these lines you’ll learn of how an angel fallen from grace will pick up the most horrifying phobia of them all.


But you want to know an interesting fact? When ever a phobia is a fact, a fairy tale land revels itself.


Post: December 20th


[End notes:

Short. Simple. Sweet. To the point.



Chapter 2

Title: Chapter 1

The bitter wind howled, slicing through the horrid sound waves of the hustle and bustle of the crowded city. Hundreds of beings filled the tightly packed, four foot, cement safe havens, protruding from the enormous buildings, simply called “side walks.” It’s quite amusing, looking at these normal pedestrians and how easy it is to find a comfortable box to live within, never taking the risk to step out. Quite horrendously stupid, if you ask me. Or is a better example of stupidity knowing that these mindless zombies honestly think they’re safe?

            Ice cracking, brakes screeching, driver’s food locking in position, screaming, bodies bracing for impact, panic, chaos… you get the picture right? In the matter of a few tiny grains of sand falling in the funnel of an hour glass, you get a front row seat to how those force field “boxes” are shattered. Oh look! Crimson life is starting to flow and seep into the man made earth. Fuckin’ fools.

            The piercing wind picks up again, blowing the bits of powder- sugar snow around;  circling around the nasty scene, yet turning it into one that is worthy of a blue ribbon painting. Skittering off topic, I’m starting to think the wind predicted this unfortunate bitter-sweet accident. Or maybe it believed to stop due to the curling of smirk and holding of thy breath, along with the other oxygen denier whiz’s who were able to witness and piece together what was about to occur. Either way, life resumed.

            The muffled sound of ambulance sirens could be heard beneath the chatter. A few people stopped and gawked at the action movie scene, but soon continued on their selfish journey to reach which ever over priced store to purchase whatever material item for their loved ones. Sooner or later flashing red, white, and blue; ironically patriotic, lights of emergency vehicles will fill the streets. Well, looks like it’ll be sooner, rather than later. A stampede of police cars skidded around all corners, rushing to the scene. Behind them followed about three ambulances, their sirens now blaring at horribly loud volumes. Emergency medical technicians barreled out of their metal shells, running towards the victims. The fellow members of our justice system sectioned off the area with the eye catching, bright yellow colored tape with black, bold, capital letters stating, “DO NOT CROSS.” Ha, as if these feeble minded organisms ever listened to direction. Conformity was never that much fun. If everyone followed the rules, what kind of world would that be? There would be no need for half of the occupations currently present; an example would be those lovely officers down there currently trying to push away the on lookers and paparazzi. There would be no excitement, no weapons, no fighting, just one big happy planet, right? Well la-dee-fuckin-da.

            We need rebels. People who destroy preset policies. Ones who dare stand up to authority. That is what makes the world go round. Without that bit of chaos going on, everything seems too peaceful. That is not a society. The machination of terrorists destroying other citizen’s lives is what drives the nations. Deep down, with the exception of greed, violence is the true force behind a nation. Without blood shed, what else would cause the powerful leaders of each country to seek revenge? God did not create the earth to be peaceful. He more than likely foreseen what would happen. The first mistake of man was when Eve ate the forbidden fruit. When something is forbidden, it is more desirable, is it not?

            Anyways, this small display of destruction in life is what makes this arduous substance enjoyable. Screams of agonizing pain shrill into the air as the severely injured forms are moved from the public view and soon concealed in their life saver on wheels. Roughly five people were taken away in stretchers, some of the ambulances having to double up on passengers, while white sheets were laid upon three others. The small outline of a child could be seen through one. Such a fate for someone so young… Someone who has yet to live life. The white sheets of innocence become red sheets of new deaths. New souls to either be allowed into the golden, pearl gates of heaven, or blasted down to the burning gates of hell. Where they end up, I am quite curious, but do not stay around long enough to find out.

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            Gripping the freezing cement ledge, the young figure pulls her back of the side of the roof. The clatter of heavy combat boots echo in the vicinity, while a jingle of chains follows after. The gravel, which covers the top of the building, crunches between steps, sending shivers up the form’s back. A pale, dried-out hand grasps the rusted handle and slings open the steel, yet light, door. Swiftly entering, the warmth of heaters blast out from vents, heating up the once frigid. Sound waves bouncing of the walls, echoes intensifying as she pounds down the steel stairs. Greenish-blue orbs focus on the first door coming up, staring at it through the grated pattern of the stair case. Slowing up the pace, almost tip toeing past the door, she stops for a moment to press her ear to the luke-warm, two inch door. Inside the retired ballet instructor scolds the young hopefuls for packing themselves against the windows to look at the accident floors below. Huffs and shuffles are heard after a few minutes and the constant beat of, “One, two, and three. One, two, and three,” return to the room.

            Backing away cautiously, attempting to not cause any disturbance in the air and force the old instructor out for the bitching of a life time; something about how she is disrespecting a scared dance and possibly ruining the chances for any of those girls from getting scouted or making it into famous ballet groups, the agile girl turns and slithers down the rest of the stairs. At least on that flight. Then, reaching the fifth platform, she jumps down the other stairs. Salsa music can be heard from the fourth platform; sixth floor, the B flat scale rumbling through on the third platform; fourth floor, tribal music and chanting could be found on the second platform; you guessed it, third floor, and finally reaching the first, nothing but soft chatter; the second floor. Those orbs looked all the way back up, looking at the platforms with a puzzled manner as usual. Never knew why there was one less platform than floors. Then again, not every floor had a set a stairs that came through in the inside of the building. Maybe that was why. Either way, it still placed confusion within her mind.

            The steel door knob froze her palm as she pulled on the seemingly thousand-ton structure and cracked it a bit, peeking out into the floor. This was the rooming floor, where some of the instructors and students resided. She was welcomed here by some, hated by others, and invisible to most, but most of all— she was not suppose to be on the roof much less on the stairs. They were supposed to only be used for, “emergency purposes only.” Pfft. As if. Making sure the ‘coast was clear’, she swung the door wide open and rushed in, quickly placing her left hand behind her, finger tips catching the middle of the door. Carefully, and slowly, she let the door push her arm against her back, the metal block sounding with an audible click, proving it was shut. No one turned to look at her enter, which you would think they would with the way she’s dressed.

            Going through the floor and luckily getting an empty elevator, she took it down to the garage level. As if she was wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak, she made it unnoticed. The garage level of the building used to be a parking garage, but they rebuilt that behind this building, restructuring the garage into a club-like place. Two stages adorned the room where most bands would play. A guarded platform was put in the middle of the shorter wall where a switch board and various other equipments were placed for the local disk jockeys to hold raves. Then, back in a corner room off to the right was the bar. All the walls in that room were covered with every type liquor imaginable. Anything you want? They have. The builders never got into redecorating the walls; they kept their cement look with a few posters hanging here and there from bands that played within its presence. The hard, cold ass floors were given a new look though. In the center, covering most of it was hardwood. Bamboo flooring to be exact. Then, surrounding that was a deep maroon and crimson carpet. Not very soft I should add, actually, unbearably uncomfortable, but at least it was better than concrete. The bar had tiled floors- black, lime green, black, pink, black, aqua, black, lime green, excreta; continuing in that pattern. The two doors that lined the entrance to the hallway leading to the bar were the bathrooms. They too had tile floors, except normal black and white patterns. The stalls were different colors though. Seven toilets were housed in each bathroom, each a color of the rainbow. Yep, good ol’ Roy G. Biv. There were very few “normal” lights down there. Most of the lighting was either strobe lights or black lights, so it wasn’t the easiest to see. Overall, this room was the shit. Best part: it was sound proof. It was built below the surface of the city so far you wouldn’t be able to hear a thing until you entered the building.

            The annoying ding of the elevator let the girl know she reached her destination. Blaring heavy metal attacked her as she stepped out of what she considered the ‘metal death trap.’ The music could easily break anyone’s ear drums that were not familiar with the ‘terrible’ beats. High pitched screaming was soon followed with a low pitch screaming as a wicked guitar solo backed up both voices. Bobbing her to the beat, she walked across the floor towards the bar. During an instrumental play, the vocalist screamed into the microphone,


            Smiling to herself she waved her left arm up, hand turning into a peace sign with a thumb sticking out in a small wave. Sensing the smile back, she continued her journey towards the bar. As she reached the beginning of the hallway, the screaming ensued once more. Taking the curved right turn into light blue and black lighted room, soft Japanese pop-techno filled her ears. Plopping herself onto one of the stools she smacked her hand on the thick glassed tops, yelling with a grin,

                        “Barkeep! Java Monster, Moca Loca!”

                        “Yeah, yeah. What the hell ever Mi..”

            A guy with black hair, cut in the emo and/or scene style, teased a little to give it a fluffy look mumbled with a smirk as he bent behind the counter. Opening one of the various mini fridges, he grabbed a cold Java Monster— an iced coffee energy drink— and slide it down the bar top to Miku; who caught it instantly. Lifting himself back up, the young man walked over to lean on the top beside her. His eyes were a deep green with specs of yellow and his teeth were as white as could be. A thin line of smudged eye liner brought out the yellow more as it reflected against the blue tinted lights. He had an oval looking shaped face with features that looked like the Gods had chiseled them themselves. He flashed another smile before eyeing Miku, giving her a quick glance up and down.

            As Miku took a swig of the teeth rotting drink, she raised an eye brow out of curiosity at her long time friend. The other chuckled as he shook his head slightly, keeping his eyes on hers. Licking a few drops off her lips, she placed cold drink gently down on the glass with a hallow ‘thud.’

                        “What Dai?” Miku asked with a stern voice.

                        “Nothing. Just wondering why you still choose to dress like that if you’re trying to find yourself a mate. No one is going to want a wolf like that..” Dai had answered, teasing her slightly by reaching out with his pointer finger and poking her nose.

            Her eyes narrowing, she swiftly turned to nip at the finger that obscured her personal space. A low, gentle, playful growl rose up from her throat as she slipped her fingers around the sweating can. The growl turned to a chuckle as she up turned the can again, taking another gulp. She finished the drink and placed the empty can on the counter, creating another hallow thud, but at a higher octave. She smirked softly as she returned the poke and leaned against her right arm.

                        “Be careful what you say Dai. We don’t need people using those brilliant minds of theirs and putting the puzzle pieces together to just come to the conclusion that we are ‘The children of Satan’.”

            They both held back their giggles for a moment before just releasing them into loud bursts of laughter.

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 Alright, press pause and back the fun bus up, correct? Let’s see how this can be explained with out confusing the poor wits out of you.  The ‘children of Satan’, what they are mainly called, is referred towards a very rare, special, group of people. Okay, now take the ugly gray remote with miniscule buttons, and even tinier writing, and find the ‘rewind’ button. You know, I wonder if the inventors realize that senior citizens need to read these things too?! Their bifocals only magnify so much… Back to rewinding shall we? Press the button and stop about where Dai mentioned the whole, “want a wolf…”. Get there? Good. Now press pause! To start off, no, ‘wolf’ is not a nickname. It’s to cliché, and better off a… Horrible nickname. Sorry guys, you lost that bet. Now, where is my money?

No, the ‘wolf’ is there. It is apart of some people, just as other animals belong to others. A group of special people… Hmm, sounds like the horrid movie Twilight eh? Except the special people were vampires that, ughhh, do I dare say it?- Sparkle. No, vampires are not apart of this world. They are just a race created for entertainment and the wild fantasies of humans. Anyways, back to this mind boggling subject. Great scientists theorize that this ‘animal’ gene was passed down through generations while the almighty religious believers of hypocritical religions preach that the people are cursed by the devil himself. Supposedly to be the Anti-Christ I presume. Either way, no one is quite sure how they arrived at this unnatural state.

This phenomenon starting taking place around the nineteen-eighties. Newborns with animal genetics came to be. The first case of this “horrific” event took place in Michigan. A three year old infant was placed down for nap time during the middle of the day as usual, and when the parents returned to awaken the child, they were woken up with a surprising smack to the face. Laying in their precious angel’s place was a cub of a wild feline, one to only suppose to be found in the safari; a baby lion. Soon after, various other accounts of the same happenings, various animals of course, arose. At first it was a money maker for the media and scientists, but that didn’t last to long. Genocide was on the horizon. It was a massacre of infants, young children, teenagers, everyone. Whether they were a scientific freak themselves, or a protector of them, it didn’t matter. If you were suspected, you were killed.

Not only was it the beginning of mass murders around the world for the animal-people, it was the beginning of gunning down all races of Native Americans. They stood up against the government, complaining that they were killing the spirits of the earth. They believed that certain children were blessed with this gift. Ones who were in touch with their true roots and finding their guide—which often took forms of animals. Native Americans fought back, often creating small battles in major cities trying to protect the sacred people. It was a ghastly trial that took over the entire world by storm. More beings had died during nineteen eighty-one through nineteen eighty-three; only two or three years, than World War One, World War Two, and the Revolutionary War combined. The populations of earth were close to becoming like the famed do-do bird; extinct. But, thanks to legislation and various bills, laws were created to help protect the animal-people. There were thousands of riots with the passing of those laws, but they soon eased up as time went on. Those events happened roughly twenty years ago.

Now, in the present time, the life is still rough for the ‘animal-people’, ‘freaks’, ‘furries’, ‘anamos’, or better yet, ‘the children of Satan!’. To put it simply, I like the name of ‘anthros’. There are still Anti-Anthro groups running around, causing havoc when they can and disposing of the nonhumans when able to. It doesn’t help trying to show them that the Anthros are peaceful when on the animal’s side of the fence; they have groups that do the same to them. It kind of reminds me of the Klu Kulx Klan, or even the two major gangs, the Bloods and Crips. There will never be peace between the two. But now a day, various humans are anthros, so it’s not uncommon to find them. Yet, to most humans, they cannot spot anthros or begin to categorize them. Humans can’t see Anthros. Anthros can see humans. Anthros can see other Anthros. It kind of has to do with that whole sense of smell thing. Some people share the same guide, or at least the same animal. Even within a pack of a certain species, there are rarities. These “extra rare” ones are anthros who are reincarnations of spirits mentioned in Indian folklore. How do you know if you’re a reincarnation? Simple. Just change into your animal form.

So, now that I have explained where anthros come from, the first spotted one, the madness that occurred from them, and some special little facts about the different groups, are you satisfied yet? I mean, seriously, I don’t think I can put this any easier besides the blunt way which would be: Anthros equal people who have animal genes. They can “shape shift” or “turn into” animals. And if you still have yet to figure it out, my lovely wolf self belongs to this group of people, along with most of my friends. So… [enter ‘understand’ in Spanish here]? Good, because I am not explaining this again. Nope, not at all. If you forget, oh well that’s your loss and not my problem.

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            Finally being able to breath, Miku straightened her stance as she slid out of the stool, taking a step back and spread her arms out so her entire body could be in view.

                        “But seriously Dai, what is wrong with the way I dress?”

            She let out a soft grunt as Dai just stood there giggling at her and continuing to shake his head. Miku glared at him as she drew her eyes down to look at herself for a moment. Around her neck was a rainbow colored cat collar; how ironic for a wolf, no, with a small silver bell that had a tarnished look to it, probably from wearing it so much. Then continuing down to her torso, she wore an ocean blue fishnet long sleeved shirt. Overtop of it lay a skin tight black, white, silver, and gray Volcom shirt, displaying its logo on the right side in a graffiti design. Now, traveling down to her legs she wore one of the many different styles of a popular brand of pants called Tripps. They were black with blood red stitching. A few studs adorned the pockets while roughly five chains hung loosely from loops on the waist. Finally, reaching the destination of shoes was a simple pair of black combat boots with silver buckles holding them on. On the left wrist was a black and lime green, horizontally striped wrist band while on her thumb of her right hand was a silver thumb ring with red kanji.

            Miku’s outfit might have kind of been… ‘Out there’, but it seemed as if her hair didn’t help at all. If the stereotypical hair style of the scene girl hair helps, that is what her hair was. Two pieces, roughly in the middle of both sides of her hair, came down past her shoulders and laid around the top of her breasts. Her hair in the back was significantly shorter along with the front. Her bangs were longer on the sides and then angled diagonally downward from left to right, right side being the longest. Miku’s natural hair color was a dark brown, but you could hardly tell that from the colors that she had now. Her entire head was dyed black with chunks of hair in the middle; as if it was a Mohawk, dyed white along with long piece of hair that hung to the left. The middle white piece had pink tips while the right; long, black piece had pink mixed in as well. So… needless to say her hair was a funky style while looking like some type or rainbow puked on it. Oh well, it was Miku and she liked it. This was her style and sadly, no one was going to make her change it.

            Shrugging the thought off, she retook the steps forward to lean on the top just as Dai was. Taping her fingers on the counter top she let her gaze wonder over the bottles of liquor, taking in the designs, colors, and what made people want such sickening flavored water. As much as she wanted to drift away into her own world and thoughts, Miku knew she couldn’t. Letting out a soft huff, she smiled softly and turned towards Dai.

                        “So, when is this rave supposed to go down?”

                        “Tonight. We need to start setting up around seven to be ready to let people in about nine. You gonna head over the nest and pick up the extra cords?” He stated simply.

                        “Yeah... Need me to send Dare this way as well?”

                        “Yep. He’s not getting out of work tonight! You know.. this is going to be rough. You know we will have quite a bit of new comers. Gotta make sure the peace stays. We don’t need anymore trouble here,” Dai’s voice dropped and turned into a softer tone as his gaze turned into a serious one, looking in Miku’s eyes.

                        “Trust me, no one is going to cause trouble. Not with this wolf around!” she exclaimed while chuckling, trying to get that serious look off of his face. She hated whenever he was too serious about something that hasn’t even happened yet. Or that needs no worrying.

            Keeping his stern glare for a moment, Dai soon laughed and turned his stoic face into one of a child, smiling wildly. Miku smirked and pushed herself back, turning around to start walking out as Dai yelled out towards the circus looking wolf,

                        “Hey! You just might find yourself your dream girl tonight! Make sure you look good!”

            Miku thrust her hand in the air, giving him a thumbs up as she laughed and walked out of the bar, screaming behind her,

                        “Will do!”

[End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Feel free to review~]

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