The Mystery of Fear

Fright is such a strange, two-faced thing: one a mask of terror, the other a beguiling calm. For instance: when you're standing behind your sibling's door, waiting to jump out at them, you have no thought for their jibbly-jibblies. And yet when you yourself walk down the hall at night for a glass of what Wisconsinites call "worter", you find that the hairs on your neck have risen up faster than a gospel choir. (speaking of which--I heard the most moving gospel singer today. Amazing voice, just hair-raising.)
Anyway, I was just playing my acoustic when I see this pallid moth at the window, its wings aflutter with innocence but the stuttering appearance a simple mask of death. I literally jumped when I saw that moth, and wondered what a fright I'd get if some phantasm came to the window at night, with its ghastly hands and distorted face, and put its ugly lips right up to my window. Then I wondered how it would be to play a prank like that...eeghh. But I wouldn't have as much fear doing it to someone else than having it done to myself. Which, obviously, is why I'm here, pouring my thoughts out to people and Canadians (just kidding, Canadians :D) all over the globule.
And what about the feelings in the heart of terrorists when they prepare to strike a target--not just the ones we talk about in the US, but terrorists everywhere. I read an article in TIME about some young guy who was just leaping for the chance to kill himself in the name of his beliefs. Doesn't fear factor in there somewhere? And if there isn't--should we respect that?
Just leaving you with those thoughts.
TFATF (thanks for all those fishsticks!),
Ahaneen :)