My Top Five Scariest Moments Ever

Science-fiction oftentimes falls short or pails in comparison to real life experiences. The best movie scripts ever are those inspired by true events. It gives me chills whenever I finish watching a movie that have kept me glued to the screen, just to find out that it really happen.

Just like those documentaries and true events inspired productions, there are memories in all of us that keep rewinding and playing in our minds. In my mind anyhow... Memories that one could describe as a scar, or accept them graciously as what makes them unique, special, a bit crazy and maybe even powerful.

These are stories that I tell every so often. Now I share them here, like having you visiting over at my living room, while I hand you some good Puerto Rican coffee.

It was a school night, but I was outside riding my bike at dusk. I lived in an apartment building. Right outside the parking area, beyond the gate, towards your right, it was dead end, with no houses around, just land. I was ten years of age. My friends and I loved to ride to the end of that road and let go of our bikes into the parking area.

We were at it a couple of times. Is night time now, I love it when the breeze hits my sweaty face as I'm speeding downhill. Some chills are thrills. I was pretty safe because oncoming vehicles had no choice than to turn right into the parking lot, behind us there was nothing to visit or drive thru.

In one of these turns, as I'm speeding downhill into the parking lot, in comes this big black sedan. I didn't think much of it, in fact I took it as harmless competition, the bike against the car, both racing to make it first to turn in the parking's gate.

To my surprise, the car, as soon sped up as he passed the gate (why would he bypass the gate?) It sped up! Since I am riding downhill, and now dumbfounded, it took some seconds for me to realize the car was actually driving towards me.

Couple of meters to impact I swerved my bike and bump it on sidewalk, making it to safety. As I did this I immediately turned around to see if I could recall the driver's face.

I'm telling you I looked hard and there was nothing but a silhoette. This driver had no face.

He kept driving to the end of the street, turned around and then left even faster than he came in. He did not turn right towards the parking, he kept going.

At age 16 I knew how to drive. Can't recall who taught me to drive. I know that whenever my mom would ask me to park the car in the garage, I would take the car to the end of the street, not that dead end street. We moved from that building apartment into a housing complex. But that's besides the point.

The point is that I always stretched it a little farther than I was supposed to. When my mother allowed me to go to the end of the street, I went all the way to the other end. When she let me go to the other end, I took the car around the block. When she allowed me around the block, I took the car 20 miles away.

During one of these daring trips, I went to the Caribbean Rainforest. You can find some information about the Caribbean Rainforest here. A mystical place, you shouldn't visit it at night.

I went at night. The place is filled with rivers and small, beautiful waterfalls. So, I'm 16 years of age, went alone at night to the Caribbean Raiforest and not satisfied with that, I got out of the car and went into the river.

It was not merely dark, it was pitch black dark. Took a good while for my eyes to get used to this new darkness. I was terrified. It was like I was training myself out of fear, but I was paralyzed with fear. Although I always had this saying: "If you are alone, then there is nothing to fear. Because if you are alone there is nobody there to harm you. Be scared if you find out somebody is out there."

So I started praying, still by the waterfall touching the stream, for a sign. A sign that I was alone there, for if I was alone I had nothing to fear.

I looked up and there were three fireflies in an imperfect triangular formation.

I rushed into the car and went home.

This is more of a funny than a scary story, but to lightened the mood, here it goes. I'm now 17 years old, in my second year of college, enjoying the student facilities: the sauna, the gym, the pool...

There were like three pools there, the most overwhelming one was the diving pool. Its highest trampoline was 70 feet high.

Let's fast forward because by now you have an idea that I convinced myself to get up there. Now I'm up there looking around and down... Down was far away.

I've never dove in anything before, so I went in feet first. I wish I had a mental camera. I still feel my legs giving in the air pressure as I'm going down. I could almost count the seconds. Some moments last a lifetime. I almost wished that instant would stop so I could remain on thin air, unharmed.

But no, my feet had to touch the water. As this happened I felt how I was literally sitting on the water. I hope you can imagine this. I really sat on the water.

The second that happened my bathing suit went all the way up to my waist. I remained under the water for close to a minute. I was fine, but I was oh so ashamed and trying to get my bathing suit out of some other universe. The noise I made as I hit the water made an echo in the building.

A sarcastic admirer awaited patiently until I finally resurfaced. He yelled across the pool: What a burn!!

I went back the next day. This time I went baby steps in the kiddies pool. Good girl.

At age 13, my Home Economics teacher assigned each to sell about 500 chocolates. Those that sold most chocolates were to win a hotel stay and whatnot.

It didn't matter the prize. Every time as I came back from school, my mother was still working and I had to do the chores, so I was tempted by those brown little devils in the freezer.

So I made sure to detroyed them one by one. Until I've done vanishing a $500 tall business.

When I finally found the courage to tell my teacher what I've done. I ate all the chocolates, I think I sold two to my mother on credit. My teacher then told me that from now on I meant no more than a zero to the left for her. Took me five minutes to solve that math equation. Then I realized I was an outcast.

To my benefit I wasn't the only one that couldn't resist the army of brown demons. So my new friend/accomplice and I decided to just leave and never return.

At 10 in the morning we left school and started walking. I passed by my home and my mother spotted me. How come she wasn't at work? So my friend and I started running. I barely remember how we made it to the Island's capital city (I live in Puerto Rico and the capital is San Juan, about a thirty minute drive). What I do remember is that as sunset approached, the nice people around us transformed into very suspicious characters. I reached into my pocket, a quarter.

I told my friend: "With this quarter we're going back home". My mother did not spank me silly that time. She hugged me so happy that I was fine. I should've ran away more often.

I love mangos. Not only eating them but the whole ordeal of having to climb on a tree to get them. O.K. So I'm 40 plus now and I haven't climbed on a tree since before the first Bushism, but the spirit is there, you know. This whole adventure feeling of going out to get it.

I liked climbing on this particular tree that grew by my school, entangled on a barbwire. You had to be very savvy to clear the barbwire to then be able to climb on the tree. I just loved that challenge right there. So when it was mango season, there I went.

I cleared the barbwire, climbed on the mango tree, and now I'm trying to get down holding on to more than ten mangos.

I slipped and got stuck by my right knee on the barbwire. i don't remember the pain. I remember the pride I felt because I did not let go of the mangos. I was literally hanging off the barbwire. A neighbor carried me down, removing my snatched knee from the killer fence and placing me on the ground, mangos and all.

The mangos were not ready yet, it doesn't matter. I didn't let go of them anyhow.

When I came home, a friend of my mom's poured salt on the wound. That is the scary part of this story. That pain I'll never forget. I'll never forget her laughing at it either. People have no idea how tender the minds of our children are. Their lives will be built upon all these little memories.

I didn't give her none of my green mangos.

Is fine. All part of beautiful me. I'm proud to live up to my name, both my user name and my real name. Proud of my life, my experiences and above all, of being able to share those pieces of crazy stories that still haunt me, sometimes from the parking lot and others from the freezer.