I normally love writing for kids. It’s a weird turn of events in later years. But one of the byproducts of writing science and history articles for kids is that you learn things you just would have been very happy not learning.
For instance, climate change is making spiders bigger. Yes, bigger. I’ve always sort of been worried about climate change and the prospect of floating on a door atop the future Mid-European Atlantic that used to be known as ‘Germany’ but now I have to add big spiders to that nightmare. Enjoyably enough, in future research I learned that spiders can also survive in space. So when global warming does get bad enough and humanity is forced to go live on Mars, spiders can follow us.
Another scary fact is that there are the frozen bodies on Mount Everest. And they are used as landmarks for people climbing up and down. I’m not so scared of the idea of dead people. I am, however, terrified stiff by the fact that there are people on Earth stupid enough that when they run into a frozen man in a Columbia jacket their only thought is ‘Oh, I have to make a left at Larry.’ And then off to the ‘dead zone.’
There’s a haunted radio station in Russia that’s been broadcasting a dull monotonous tone for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the last three-and-a-half decades. Horrifying. I’d love to visit it, but the most terrifying aspect of that ghost radio station is that it’s in Russia.
You can die from holding in a sneeze. This wouldn’t bother me, but it’s also possible to die from sneezing too hard. Sneezing. The function we can’t control can kill you if you don’t do it like fricking Goldilocks.
King Charles II used to drink red wine mixed with cremated skulls. He wasn’t the only one either, as this was a way to be healthier. Also, the barber was where one got bled. If you were sick, you were ordered by the doctor but it was beneath him to make people bleed. This doesn’t terrify me as much as make me sad that I didn’t live then. I bet people almost never had to go to work. Yes, it was because they had died, but still. No work.
My last bit of research dragged out that some ants turn into zombies via parasitic fungus, which – wait for it – manipulates their brains. (This is how it starts.) I don’t have any problem with ants, but the fact that they can be killed and then redirected to eat my hotdog. It just seems rude.
I guess it’s good as all my other terrors are real life. A mortgage. A neighbor who sings to his tennis racket. After these daily terrors, what’s a spider with wings or an ant that’s trying to kill Andrew Lincoln? Manageable. Now, I have to get my tennis racket.
