Death is so scary. Aren’t you scared? I
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Nine-year-old Pony has spent the past few months terrified to meet her great-aunt
Death is so scary. Aren’t you scared? I don’t want to die. I get so scared thinking about it, I can’t sleep. Every night I touch my bedside light forty-four times and hold my breath for as long as I can and pray, “Please God, don’t let me die! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” And then I start imagining what it will be like… You know, being dead in a coffin, being underground all alone in the dark… with mice and, and spiders, and worms crawling over me… and, and dead people moaning all around me… and trying to call Mommy and Daddy but they can’t hear me because I’m so far underground… And, and then I start thinking about being there forever and ever and ever and ever until my body’s a skeleton… a clattery skeleton with grinning teeth and no eyes, and I touch my nightlight 144 times so it will go away, and then 244 times, and 444 times, and I get crying so hard Mommy has to come in and hold me… And, and… Oh no, it’s starting to happen now… I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die...
Howe, Tina. Approaching Zanzibar and other plays. Theatre Communications Group, New York, NY. 1995. p. 19.