A Plethora of Uneven Wings

We are told at a young age through the medium of storytelling that dragons are the product of an evil force, making them hell bent on tearing apart our medieval, childhood heroes - knights, to be more specific. To some people dragons were fascinating. They were amazed with their fire-breathing abilities and mastery of flight. Just imagining such  incredible creatures soaring through the sky was an illusory sight to behold. These people were captivated by dragons, despite their vicious nature. I, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Dragons, to me, were terrifying creatures. Every time I was told an age-old fairy tale before going to bed, I cringed with every mention of the word ‘dragon’. I would hide beneath the safety of my blankets, only coming out when I knew the hero of the story had prevailed and the devilish abomination had been slain. Dragons, of course, are not real, so I didn’t truly have a reason to be scared. Knowing this, I grew out of my childish fear while still young. Little to my knowledge at the time, a new fear would soon arise from its ashes.

My name is Thomas. I am a full grown man, and I am completely and irrevocably terrified of dragonflies.
Before revealing to you the nature of my condition as it sits now, I should provide you with the story of its inception, for continuity’s sake. It all started one day while fishing with my father at a local pond. I was only nine years old at the time. Had my crippling fear not begun when it did, my ninth year very well could have been the best year of my young life. I often spent time with my parents whom loved me dearly, and this was an outing like any other. The only difference this time was what was waiting for me when we arrived at this particular outing’s location.

When we reached the pond and found our usual fishing spot, I noticed a large quantity of insects flying about. I did not recognize them, so naturally I asked my father what they were. He told me that they were “dragonflies”. I had never heard of such a bug and just the word dragon sent shivers up my spine. I was no longer scared of dragons, but my body was forever conditioned to react this way. Even so, I wanted to get a closer look. Curiosity was a weakness of mine as a child.

I walked slowly over to the swarm while my dad got our poles ready. Upon closer examination, I became frightened. These “dragonflies” were hideous. They looked like grotesque movie monsters, only smaller, which somehow made them even more terrifying. They buzzed around at high speeds, quickly changing direction as they went. The more I stared at them, the more I felt a familiar feeling grow within me. I thought of the word 'dragonfly' for a moment until an unsettling sense of dread set in the pit of my stomach. My repressed childhood fear was bubbling back up to the surface of my psyche. Anxiety and confusion overtook me. I snapped in what I now know to have been a strange sort of panic attack. I began to see these flying insects as miniature dragons flying about, fire breathing and all. I stood there in utter shock, shaking for a few moments.

Long story short, we did not end up fishing that day. I gained some composure and ran to the car as fast as I could. Ever since then I’ve been stuck with this abnormal fear of those damned, little creatures. It’s not all that bad, though, right? Surely these bugs are easy to avoid - they couldn’t possibly impact your life in a significant manner, could they? Well, as it turns out, fears - even the childish, illogical ones, have their way of catching up with you, sooner or later.

So, as of now, I am married with a child of my own. My wife’s name is Lydia and my son’s name is Robert. He is nine years of age - the same age my fear kicked in. What’s funny, though, is that my little Robert isn’t scared of anything. He’d sooner squash a dragonfly than let it take hold of his life. He must get that from his mother. I seem to be rambling. Let us return to the tale at hand.

As luck would have it, I would have to partake in 'fear therapy'. My wife had backed me into a corner and would not allow me to continue living with her and my son unless I followed through with said therapy. I didn’t want to do it, but she was very adamant. I love her and Robert dearly and I would hate to see them go. She, however, had every right to do this. You see, we moved to our current town just last year, as my wife’s workplace was relocated. I was happy to support her and make the move too, until we arrived here, that is. My wife had known about my fear, but had no idea how severe it truly was until we came to live in that town. It is surrounded by swamps and other wetland habitats. Because of this, there are quite a bit of dragonflies around. To the normal person, they can easily go unnoticed, but to me, they are everywhere.

My unhealthy fear of dragonflies had driven quite the large wedge between my wife and me. It even started to affect my relationship with my son. I couldn't go out in public with either of them if it meant we would be outside for even a few minutes. The minute I spot a dragonfly, even in the distance, I run. To them, this is not only hindering our family’s quality time, but it is also quite embarrassing. This was not enough to drive my wife over the edge. That didn’t come until a later incident took place.

I decided to take a page out of my father’s book and take my son fishing with me. Instead of indulging in one of the beautiful swamps our town had to offer, I chose to go to the spot my dad used to take me to. It was two hours away, but it would be worth it, nostalgically speaking.

We arrived at the spot pretty early, making sure to get there in time to catch a few dinner-sized fish while they were still biting. We got out of the car, and unpacked our gear, ready for some father son bonding time. I started to get the poles ready, when I thought of something. I hadn't been to that fishing spot in a very long time - not since I first discovered those dastardly bugs that haunted me so. I looked over at Robert standing by the water and it reminded me of myself at his age. As I watched him, I felt something. Panic was beginning to consume me. I started to see flashes of frightening imagery where my son was. One moment he would be standing there as normal, and the next I would see an overabundance of dragonflies, moving in on him. The imagery continued - it went back and forth from normal to frightful until the dragonflies finally closed in on my son. I watched as they all landed on him and began devouring him, for lack of a better term. Robert screamed in agony; at least I think he did. I could no longer tell what was real and what wasn't.

Within an instant, I dropped the poles, got back in the car and drove away - without my son. What a horrible father I am, right? I know, I know. What you have to understand is that this fear grows. It has changed since I was younger. It becomes exponentially worse each time I see one of those god damned bugs. I can't explain it. The moment I do see one, the fear takes control and I am left powerless. On top of that, hallucinations were now a byproduct of my fear. It was no longer a phobia - it was more like a serious disorder of some sort. I ended up driving for a few minutes before coming to my senses and turning around. During that brief disconnect from reality the only thing on my mind was how I had to get away from those dragonflies. For three whole minutes my son’s safety and well-being didn’t cross my mind even once. That's three minutes too many for any parent.

My son was safe and sound when I returned to the pond a few moments later. There wasn't a dragonfly in sight. I told him I had seen a one and that's why I drove away. I left out the part about the nightmarish hallucination. He understood as I had done this to him and my wife before, but I couldn't let this go. Neither could my wife after I told her about it. She too would not know what really happened as I couldn't bring myself to tell her. I didn't want her to think the situation was worse than it actually was, nor did I want her to think I was going crazy - even if I privately wondered this myself.

In hindsight, I could have avoided the entire ordeal. That fishing spot was where my phobia had begun. You would thing that a fear that controlled my life would be fresh on my mind, but no. I in fact only thought of the good memories I had there - the insect free ones. I was also delighted to be spending some time with my son. I was enjoying the day until my fear resurfaced. Looking back now on what I did, I realize that I was very lucky. I was not only lucky that my son was safe during the few minutes that he was alone, but I was also lucky that my wife didn’t leave me right then and there. I left our son alone, even if it was for only a few moments. To anyone else, that would be inexcusable. Her love reached outside of the boundaries of my comprehension. Even still, I noticed that it only reached so far, and it was very near its end. I will spare you the details of her furious banter, but know that the fear therapy was indeed my last chance at keeping my family together.

…

I arrived at the facility for my first round of therapy. It specialized in nothing but overcoming phobias, no matter how odd they might be. My wife had done some research online and found the facility, which seemed to be the best at what it did. On the outside, you would never be able to gather this, as it looked cold and uninviting. It resembled a mental ward more than it did an esteemed medical institution. That however, could have just be my reluctance thinking for me.

I spent my first day doing a lot of paperwork. I had to sign numerous medical waivers and resign papers that my wife had already signed and sent in prior to my arrival. After going over everything, I realized that my wife had signed me up for a two-week program. I would be staying at the facility overnight during this process. She failed to tell me this, but I knew her intentions were good. I probably would have been more hesitant on coming had she told me that previously anyway. Oh well. No matter what, this was more than necessary. My family was at stake here.

My therapy started the next day. It was cut into five parts. The first four would each take three days. The last and most arduous of the therapy sessions was also the shortest and would only take one day. That would be my last day at the facility. I wasn’t told much about the last course, but from what they did tell me, it sounded… unnerving.

The first part of therapy was easy. For three days I did nothing but speak with an actual therapist about the nature of my fear. I purposely failed to mention the hallucinations I had, both as a child and as an adult. I still didn't want anyone knowing about it. I merely illustrated the fear itself for him. He combated my fear with logic and reasoning, outlining why dragonflies aren’t all that scary. It made me feel a little bit better, but there weren’t any miracles happening just yet.

After the first stage of therapy was over, I moved on to the second part. I was moved to a large, white, padded room. It was below ground level, and lacked any windows - aside from one panel of glass from which the professionals would observe me. I was told that the rest of my therapy would take place there. The room was very tall, and after examining it for a few moments, I noticed two things. six feet from the floor there was a strip of what looked like speakers that wrapped around the entire room. The second thing I noticed was a panel on one of the walls. It started at the floor and kept going up until it hit said speakers. I wondered if this panel served a purpose. Maybe there was something behind it? In any case, I continued to take part in my therapy.

One of the therapists brought a strange looking chair into the room and placed it in the center of the room. He sat me down and strapped me to it. I was unable to move whatsoever. This was odd to say the least, but I realized that it was necessary once the therapy commenced.

For three days I sat in the chair and was shown high quality, up-close photographs of dragonflies. The first two days were hell. I became so agitated that two men whom worked at the facility had to hold the chair steady so I wouldn't knock it over. Every fiber of my being told me to run. The third day, however, was different.

I was shown photographs, like normal, but towards the end of the session, a thought crossed my mind. I was fed up with the therapy at this point, but my son popped into my head at seemingly random. For the first time I pictured him seeing me drive away at the pond. I felt an overwhelming guilt, and I let it motivate me to see the therapy through. I sat in that chair and looked at the photographs. I was shaky, but I pulled through without making a scene this time. For the first time it actually felt like I was getting better. The second part of my therapy was complete.

The therapists were impressed with the progress I was making and were ready to start the third stage. I was brought into the room and strapped to the same chair, much like before. This time, a monitor was brought in. Instead of being presented with photographs, I was now forced to watch video of dragonflies. This alarmed me, causing me to react like I initially had before. I even screamed a bit, in distress.

The second day of the video stage of therapy went a lot better. I thought of my son once again and sat there completely still for the whole session. I repeated these results on the third day as well. My therapy was turning out to be a success. Hopefully I would be able to keep up with it.

My fourth round of therapy was far worse than I expected. I was strapped to the chair once again, but I was left alone in the room. After a minute or two, the lights went out. I was left in complete darkness. I then realized that this is where the speakers came into play. I heard the familiar sound of dragonflies buzzing about as if they were in the room. I could hear them flying around my head and surrounding me. The volume would differentiate from quiet to loud, making the sounds that much more realistic. What really got to me, though, was the darkness. I was not scared of the dark, but it allowed my imagination to run wild. It was too much. I tried to think about my son again to help me get through it, but that was a mistake. All I could see was him at the pond being devoured once more by dragonflies. Now, with the aid of audio, I could hear them too. It was horrific. I could hear Robert screaming, but could do nothing to help him. The imagery worsened as the therapy went on, until all I could see was my son laying on the ground near the pond, covered in those bugs. I couldn’t bear it.

Even though the fourth round of therapy was the worst so far, I managed to keep my torment to myself. I wanted to make progress. By the end of the therapy, however, I was a mess. I had been bombarded with dragonfly-shaped needles that pierced not only my soul, but also my son - in my head, at least. I finished that round without compromising my composure, but it left me broken before starting my final task.

…

My final day at the facility had come, and I was ready to take on my last challenge - whatever it was. I was ready, physically, but my mind was not. I felt as if each stage of therapy should have been spread out a bit more. It was as if the whole process was being rushed; like I was being forced to overcome my fear within just two weeks. I blamed this on a lack of proper funding.  Each stage of therapy took its toll on me, even if I didn't realize it then. I was battered and worn out and had never felt quite this way before. I felt... altered in a sense. Hopefully this translated to improved in the long run.

I was brought into the same room for my last phase of therapy. I was left alone, like before, but this time I was able to move around. There was no chair and no restraints. Suddenly, a voice came through the speakers.

"You are to face the panel to your right and not move. You are not to look away at any instant. Do you understand?"

I was confused as to what I would be facing, but I understood. At least now I would find out what that mysterious panel was for.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. This will be your final test. In a few moments, we will open the hatch and release approximately one thousand dragonflies. It is imperative that you stand still and keep your eyes open. Are you ready?"

There weren't any exclamations I knew of that could properly describe how I felt. A familiar panic found its way into the pit of my stomach. I didn't know if I could do it. I would finally be facing my fear - actually facing it. A thousand dragonflies were behind that panel and soon enough they would be in the room with me. Even if I wanted to, I could not escape - but the truth was, deep down, I didn't want to escape. I thought of Lydia and Robert and knew that this had to be done. It was the only way I could keep them. It was the only way I could become sane. I was a damaged man in need of repair. My family deserved better.

I stood my ground, armed with thoughts of my wife and son. I then spoke loud and clear.

"Yes. I'm ready. Release them!"

The panel swung open, revealing a plethora of dragonflies behind it. They quickly filled the room and surrounded me, leaving me absolutely breathless. They flew in multiple directions in a swift fashion, and a few even landed on me. I was terrified, but I remained still.

I gazed up at the swarm as it flew in unison around the room. I looked at them in awe. I noticed a strange beauty in their flight patterns and bodily design - one I had never seen before. As they flew faster and faster around me, I actually felt comfort as opposed to fear. How very odd.

I watched the insects for several more minutes, utterly captivated by them. I felt like I had become one with them. What had I been missing my whole life? This feeling of elation consumed me. I felt like I had control - not only of my fear, but of the dragonflies themselves. I cast my arms up in joy and the dragonflies immediately stopped in place. I moved my arms to the right and they followed, flying in a clockwise manner. This was incredible. Never before had I known such power. I was their leader. I was their king.

An hour or so had passed before my wife came to pick me up. I was still in the padded room with my brethren. I could hear one of the therapists speak to her through the thin veil of glass.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

My wife sounded worried.

"Well, the therapy didn't go as planned. It seems your husbands fear is worse than we thought. We believe it stems from a much more serious mental disorder."

"What do you mean? What exactly happened?"

"Well, our final phase of therapy is the same for all of our patients. It has worked so far without fail. We tell the patient that behind a secret panel in the room, we have that which scares them the most and that we will release it into the room with them. The patient must simply stand there, eyes open, and not move. In reality there is nothing behind the panel. If the patient stands their ground and remains still when we open the panel, it can be determined that their therapy was successful. They are no longer frightened."

My wife remained silent, apparently confused.

"Your husband seems to think that there are actually dragonflies in the room with him and that he is their king. He kept shouting about his new title and moving in a sporadic manner. I'm sorry to say that he will have to be transferred to a mental institution until he can snap out of this strange state that he is in. Currently he is a danger to himself and others."

My wife walked away with the therapist, crying. He was just jealous of my power. I can't really blame him. After all, these dragonflies are astounding in every aspect. Who wouldn't want to control them? That power, however, only lies with me. I am their king. I will use my newfound ability to break out of this facility and show my wife the truth. I will show Robert too. They will be impressed. They will love me again. Now if only I could break free from this god damned chair.