In your entry today, write about one of the most frightening moments of your life.
The Lost Pair
Living far from the city means facing moments that send chills down your spine—something I know all too well. From childhood to my teenage years, my remote village offered no shortage of terrifying encounters. Maybe it was the horror movies we watched at my grandmother’s house (the only place with a TV) that fueled my imagination. Or maybe it was the simple, inescapable truth: walking home alone on a pitch-black night, every rustle and whisper in the dark felt like a warning.
One evening, my mother sent me to town to buy cooking oil, salt, and seasonings for dinner. Normally, we kept our kitchen stocked, but that day, the shelves were bare. The sun was already sinking when I set out, and I knew the return trip would plunge me into darkness. The path home was never easy—just a narrow trail cutting through endless sugarcane fields, turning into a slick, muddy gauntlet when it rained. That night, at least, my father’s old rain boots kept my feet dry.
By the time I finished my errands, night had swallowed the road whole. My only light came from the flickering flame of a lighter, its weak glow barely enough to reveal the uneven ground beneath me. No moon, no houses, just the oppressive shadows of sugarcane pressing in from both sides. Then, near the river, an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence—a strange, scratching noise from the treetops. My skin prickled. I swung the lighter toward the sound, and there, gleaming back at me, were two glowing eyes.
I didn’t wait to see what it was.
My feet moved before my mind could catch up. I ran, stumbling over rocks, thorns biting into my bare feet where one boot had slipped off. Branches slapped my arms as I crashed through the dark, my breath ragged, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t stop until our house came into view, its dim light a beacon of safety.
Panting, I burst inside. My mother took one look at me—wide-eyed, trembling—and asked what had happened. Between gasps, I described the eyes in the trees. She shrugged. “Probably just a stray animal.” Then her gaze dropped to my feet. “Where’s the other boot?”
I hadn’t even noticed it was gone.
“I’ll find it tomorrow,” I promised, knowing full well I wouldn’t dare retrace my steps tonight.
She sighed. “You’d better. Or your father will kill you.”
That wasn’t the last fright I’d face growing up in that village—but that’s a story for another time.
