Nephophobia
The tragedy began innocently enough with a little girl and her best friend sitting Indian style on the grass on a warm summer day beneath a cluster of white, fluffy cumulus clouds that hung in the bright blue sky like balls of cotton pasted on a sheet of cerulean paper.
"What do you want to do?" Tamara Rodney asked.
"I don't know. What do you want to do?" Dakota Hanley replied.
School had only been out for two weeks, and already the girls were growing bored.
"Wanna play jump rope?"
"Nah. It's too hot out."
"We could ride bikes."
"Nah. My rear tire needs air."
"Want me to get my Monopoly game out?"
"Nah. That game takes forever."
"What do you want to do then?" Tamara asked again.
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"
The conversation went on in much the same vein for another thirty minutes. Each time Tamara came up with an idea for a way to pass the time her friend found fault with it.
"Did you ever notice how much clouds look like big scoops of vanilla ice cream?" Dakota asked idly.
"I think they look more like mashed potatoes."
Dakota lay back on the grass, resting her head on her hands, and looked up at the sky.
"The cloud right above us resembles a small, white kitten."
Tamara stared at it for several minutes and replied, "I still see mashed potatoes."
"That's because you have no imagination."
"I do, too!"
"Not one as good as mine. My mother told me I ought to become a writer someday because I have such a vivid imagination."
Not wanting to be outdone by her friend, Tamara assumed a reclining position as well. Her eyes travelled from cloud to cloud, hoping to see something unusual in their formation. She turned her head from one side to the next, squinted her eyes and frowned. Nothing but more mashed potatoes.
For nearly an hour the two little girls remained on the grass, staring up at the sky. Dakota claimed to have seen a white horse with a flowing mane, a woolly sheep, a Casper-like ghost and a snowman.
"This is getting boring," she finally said, returning to an upright position.
"What do you want to do?" Tamara asked, also sitting up.
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"
It looked to Tamara like it was going to be a long summer.
* * *
Tamara Rodney's elementary school days were behind her, and she would start high school in September. While the thirteen-year-old was looking forward to the next four years that lay ahead of her, she could not deny that she was apprehensive, as well.
As she and Dakota sat on the beach near the Puritan Falls lighthouse, she considered all the changes her teenage years would bring.
"Do you realize we'll need to get part-time jobs and save money for college?" Tamara asked.
"Who cares? We'll get to go out on dates," Dakota added.
"We'll have to take the SATs, apply to colleges, get a student loan and choose a major."
"Think about having a steady boyfriend."
"Then we have to learn how to drive."
"I look forward to going to the movies, to school dances—and don't forget the prom."
"Is that all you can think about, boys?" Tamara asked.
"Pretty much," Dakota replied, lying back on her oversized beach towel. "Speaking of boys, doesn't that cloud resemble Jimmy Barnes?"
"I still don't see anything but mashed potat—"
Tamara stopped speaking and stared at the cumulus cloud that seemed to be hanging directly over her head.
"Look at that!" she said with amazement. "It looks like a giant hand."
"I don't see it."
"You don't? It looks like it can just reach down from the sky and touch us."
"Sorry. I don't see a hand. But, hey, at least you're not seeing mashed potatoes."
* * *
For the next four years, Tamara would frequently stop whatever she was doing and stare up into the cloudy sky. Somewhere along the line she had apparently developed quite an active imagination since she saw a wide variety of objects in the white, fluffy shapes.
Being a healthy, normal teenager, she didn't walk around with her head in the clouds all the time. She studied, played sports, went on dates and spent time with her friends. Thus, high school, with its four years of new adventures, flew by.
Although Dakota Hanley was still her closest friend, the two girls did not see nearly as much of each other as they had in the past. Both girls worked part-time jobs after school and on weekends, Tamara at The Quill and Dagger and Dakota at Shop 'N Save.
One Saturday afternoon in mid-March, the girls both requested off from their jobs to go shopping together. The senior prom was four weeks away, and they needed dresses and shoes for the occasion. As Dakota drove to the Liberty Tree Outlet Mall in Danvers, she noticed her friend was being unusually quiet.
"What's wrong? Did you and Brad have a fight or something?" she asked.
"No," Tamara replied. "Everything's fine between us. Why do you ask?"
"You've barely said ten words since we left your house. What's wrong?"
"I was just gazing out the window."
"At what? All the traffic on Route 128?"
"The clouds."
"Oh, no. Not that silly old game. Please don't tell me you still see mashed potatoes."
"When we were little kids, you once told me I had no imagination. Well, I've got a whopper of one now," Tamara admitted, on the verge of tears.
"What's bothering you? You know you can tell me. We've been best friends all our lives."
"I've been seeing some really weird things when I look up at the sky."
"Like what?"
"Like cemetery headstones, coffins, hearses."
"Wow! That is some really weird shit. Have you talked to anyone about it?"
"You mean like a shrink?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of the school psychologist."
"I've been so busy with school and work and all, I just haven't had the time. Besides, I don't want to worry my parents. I'm sure it's just a temporary thing."
Since Dakota had no experience with such matters, she had no practical advice to offer her friend. Instead, she steered the conversation to a more cheerful topic: the prom. The tactic worked. For the remainder of the day, Tamara was her normal, buoyant, talkative self.
* * *
Senior prom. The class trip to Boston. Final exams. Somehow Tamara managed to get through the hectic end-of-senior-year schedule despite the escalating panic she felt every time she glimpsed a cloud in the sky. Rather than worry anyone, she kept her fears about her deteriorating mental state to herself.
The day before graduation, she went to the cafeteria where the caps and gowns were being distributed.
"Don't forget your tassel," the school secretary said after putting a checkmark next to Tamara's name to indicate she had picked up her costume.
"Thank you."
"There you are!" Dakota exclaimed, having spotted her friend in the hallway. "I've been looking for you. Want to go get something to eat at Burger Barn?"
"Sure. We've got three hours before graduation practice starts."
"Are all these practices really necessary? We had one yesterday. Now we have one this afternoon and another tomorrow morning. Is it really that difficult to walk across the athletic field and up onto the platform to collect a diploma?"
"Was it really necessary for us to learn algebra and trigonometry?" her friend joked. "But they were required nonetheless."
"Ugh! Algebra! The bane of my existence. I, for one, never intend to use it."
"You want to go thru the drive-thru?" Tamara asked as she turned off Route 692 and into Burger Barn's parking lot.
"Nah. Let's go inside and eat. It's hot out, and the air-conditioning will feel good."
As the two girls sat at a table eating their burgers and fries, a group of fellow seniors walked into the fast food restaurant.
"Hey, you two," called Cammie Leeson, who was in Tamara's world history class. "Do you want to come with us to the beach tomorrow? We're gonna skip practice and go in the morning. That way we'll be back in plenty of time for the ceremony."
"Normally, I'd love to, but they're passing out the yearbooks right after practice," Tamara told them. "I want to get mine and have my friends sign it. I don't know when I'll see them again."
"That's right," Cammie said. "You're going off to California in July, aren't you?"
"Yes. My uncle's got a job for me there for the summer, and in September I start at the University of San Francisco."
"Lucky you! Most of us will be attending classes at Essex Green."
"At least there'll be familiar faces there," Dakota said. "Poor Tamara won't know anyone when she starts school."
Poor Tamara.
That's something she didn't need to hear. The teenager was frightened enough with her overactive imagination seeing images of death and burial above her head. Add to that the natural apprehension of living in an unfamiliar place, far from friends and family, and it was surprising she didn't come apart at the seams.
* * *
"I have to be at the school early," Tamara told her parents the following evening after the family finished a quick dinner of sandwiches and salads. "The seniors are to meet in the gym for some last minute instructions and preparations."
"Do you need a ride?" her father asked.
"No. Dakota will be here any minute to pick me up. Oh, there she is. Bye."
"See you later, honey," her mother called.
On the way to the ceremony, the Rodneys bought a bouquet of roses for their daughter. When they arrived at the school, they found that the teachers' and visitors' parking lots were already filled. People were parking along the road and on the grass near the football and baseball fields. After finding an available spot, Mr. Rodney led his wife to the folding chairs where the family and friends of the graduates were to sit.
"I can't believe our little girl is graduating high school," Mrs. Rodney said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"You just realized that, did you?" her husband asked with a laugh.
The couple was talking with old friends from Tamara's Girl Scout days when the school's public address system came on.
"May I have your attention?" the principal announced. "Will everyone please take a seat? The commencement exercises will begin in five minutes."
Meanwhile, in the gym the seniors were scrambling around trying to find their proper place in line.
This is it! Tamara thought when she heard the first notes of Edward Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance" being played by the school band.
"Everybody, remember to start off on your right foot," the music director yelled. "One, two and three. Now. Right, left, right, left. That's it. Remember to keep time. Don't rush."
Dressed in their blue caps and gowns with white and gold tassels, the students marched over the blacktop and across the grassy field. Tamara and her fellow honor students wore gold sashes over their gowns. The band continued playing as the graduates took their seats on the bleachers, facing the audience. Finally, the song and the processional came to an end.
After the invocation, the graduates sang the school alma mater. Next, the salutatorian, the valedictorian and the keynote speaker gave their speeches. Just as the students and the people in the audience were beginning to get fidgety, Dr. Ephraim Fenton, the president of the board of education, stepped up to the podium and gave a few brief words of encouragement to the graduating class. Then he signaled for the first row of graduates in the bleachers to rise.
One by one the students' names were announced, and they walked across the makeshift stage to accept their diplomas. Everyone moved in an orderly fashion, concentrating on the instructions that had been drilled into their heads during their practice sessions: listen for your name; walk across the stage; reach for your diploma with the left hand, while shaking Dr. Fenton's hand with the right. Finally, turn and smile at the audience and walk off stage.
Everything went smoothly until Tamara's name was called. While his wife was brushing away more tears from her eyes, Mr. Rodney was videotaping his daughter. Walk. Reach. Shake. Smile. That was when the well-oiled machine came to a shuddering stop.
As Tamara turned to face the audience, she suddenly screamed, pointed to the sky and fainted. Thankfully, the agile school principal, who was standing next to the elderly Dr. Fenton, caught the girl before she toppled off the stage.
"Excuse me," Dr. Sarah Ryerson said as she made her way through the crowd. "I'm a doctor. Could you please let me through?"
Tamara was still out cold when Sarah reached her.
"Should I call an ambulance?" the principal asked, taking her cell phone out of her pocket.
"She'll get to the hospital quicker by car," the emergency room physician replied.
Lionel Penn, who was attending the graduation with Sarah, handed her the keys to his MG.
"Take my car," the psychiatrist said. "I'll get a ride to the hospital."
"You can come with us," Mr. Rodney said.
Dr. Penn picked the teenager up and carried her to his car. When Sarah drove away, he and the worried parents headed for the Rodneys' minivan.
As soon as Dr. Ryerson arrived at Puritan Falls Hospital emergency room, Tamara was placed on a gurney and wheeled into an examination cubicle. Meanwhile, Sarah donned a lab coat over her dress and immediately began issuing orders to the nurses and technicians.
"W-where am I?" the girl said, as her eyes fluttered open.
"Just sit back," the doctor told her young patient. "You passed out during your graduation ceremony and I brought you here to the hospital."
"Where are my parents?"
"They're on their way."
As Mr. Rodney gave his insurance information to the nurse at the desk, his wife ran back to the cubicle to check on their daughter.
"Thank God you've come to!" she cried. "Why did you scream like that?"
"I don't remember screaming."
Sarah listened to the girl's responses as she performed a routine check-up.
"What do you remember?" the doctor asked.
"I remember hearing my name being called. I walked toward Dr. Fenton. He handed me my diploma, and I shook his hand. I turned and looked for my parents in the crowd and .... That's all."
"You screamed, pointed up at the sky and passed out," Sarah informed her.
The doctor's words caused an immediate reaction in the patient.
"The sky?" Tamara echoed fearfully.
"Yes. Do you remember now?"
"No, but ...."
"Is there something you're not telling us?" Sarah prompted.
"I've been seeing things," Tamara confessed.
"What things?" her mother asked.
"Back when we were kids, Dakota and I used to look up at the sky to see if we could find objects in the clouds: kittens, sheep—things like that. I never really saw anything except mounds of mashed potatoes. Then the summer before I entered high school, I finally saw something else."
"What was it?" the doctor inquired.
"A giant hand trying to reach down toward me. I tried to forget about it, but I couldn't. Ever since that day, I've continued to see disturbing things in the clouds: gravestones, hearses, funeral processions."
"I'll run the usual tests," Sarah told the girl and her parents, "but I'm not sure the problem is physical. Would you be interested in talking to Dr. Penn?"
"If you think it's best," Tamara replied, having already come to the conclusion that her problem was with her mind, not her body.
* * *
"This might be a case of pareidolia rather than nephophobia," the psychiatrist concluded after talking to the young patient about her visions.
"Is that good or bad?" Tamara asked.
Lionel laughed at the girl's obvious confusion.
"Pareidolia refers to your seeing images in the clouds and attaching significance to them. Some people consider it a form of divination."
"Fortunetelling?"
"Right. Some well-known cases of pareidolia involve people seeing a human face on the moon, the Virgin Mary in the clouds or a demon in the smoke coming up from the World Trade Center on 9/11. There was even a case of someone seeing Jesus Christ on a piece of toast."
"Didn't they sell that toast on eBay?" Tamara asked, trying to cover her fear with humor.
"I believe they did. Nephophobia, on the other hand," Lionel continued, "is the fear of clouds. Phobias, if they are severe enough, can affect a person's life."
"Like causing someone to faint during high school graduation."
"Yes."
"Is there anything that can be done if I do have a phobia? Medication I can take?"
"If you experience anxiety attacks, we can treat the symptoms with pills, but I prefer to use medication as a last resort. There are often unpleasant side effects, not to mention the danger of addiction."
"So I have to learn to just live with it?"
"Although I can't offer you any guarantees, I've had remarkable luck with hypnosis."
"Why would you want to hypnotize our daughter?" Mr. Rodney asked.
"For one thing, to discover what she thought she saw after picking up her diploma. Something terrified her. It's important that we know what it was. Also, I might be able to come to a more exact prognosis, whether it's pareidolia or nephophobia."
Tamara gave her consent, and Lionel hypnotized her.
"You're at your graduation ceremony," the psychiatrist said when his patient assumed a trance-like state. "Your name is called. What happens now?"
"I walk across the stage," the girl replied in a low, dull, monotone. "I keep my eyes on the podium because I'm nervous. I don't like being the center of attention. As Dr. Fenton hands me my diploma, I extend my right hand to shake his. He congratulates me. Now all I have to do is smile at my parents, walk off the stage and follow the others back to the bleachers. Then it will all be over."
"But you saw something that frightened you. What was it?" Lionel asked.
"I was searching for my mother and father, and I looked up."
Tamara burst into tears, unable to continue.
"There is nothing for you to fear," the psychiatrist explained. "The images can't hurt you. Now, tell me. What did you see when you looked up?"
"The grim reaper. He was carrying a scythe in one hand, and with the other, he was pointing his finger at me."
* * *
In the two weeks following graduation, Tamara Rodney seemed to make a full recovery. Dr. Sarah Ryerson could find nothing physically wrong with the girl. As for her mental condition, there were no further signs of pareidolia or nephophobia. Tamara was able to look up at the sky and see the clouds as just a collection of water droplets.
During their last appointment, Lionel Penn asked the girl to examine a group of cumulus clouds and tell him what she saw.
"Nothing really. They're just clouds floating in the sky. My friend, Dakota Hanley, says I have no imagination. I guess she's right, after all."
"Is that all you see? Try looking again."
Tamara stared up at the sky for several minutes.
"Sorry. The best I can do is a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a mound of mashed potatoes."
Lionel checked the girl's pulse and respiration, both of which were normal.
"You say you first saw the hand in the clouds the summer before entering high school?"
"Yes."
"And you haven't seen anything since the day you graduated. Is that correct?"
"It is."
"It could be that your visions were the result of anxiety over going to high school and apprehension over the changes that usually occur in a person's life during those four years."
"And now that they're over, I'm fine again?"
"That would appear to be the case. What concerns me is that if high school was the trigger, how will your mind react to four years of college?"
"I'm looking forward to them. I can't wait to go to California next week!" Tamara exclaimed with childlike eagerness.
"Being in a strange place, surrounded by unknown people and facing new experiences doesn't bother you?"
"I'll be staying at my aunt and uncle's house, so I won't be completely surrounded by strangers. Besides, I've always wanted to go to San Francisco. As for college, I think I'll like it more than high school because I'll be studying what I want to study."
"Well, take my phone number with you. If you need to talk to anyone, please call me."
"Thank you, Dr. Penn. But I doubt that will be necessary."
* * *
When Dakota Hanley's cell phone rang at eight in the evening, she was delighted to see Tamara's number on the caller ID.
"How's everything in California?" she asked.
"Fantastic! Since I don't start my job until Monday, I've been sightseeing every day."
"Where did you go?"
"The usual places: the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman's Wharf, Alcatraz, Chinatown, Haight-Ashbury."
"Sounds like you've been busy. How are you feeling?"
"Great."
"No more fainting spells?"
"No. I'm perfectly fine. I'm looking at the clouds right now, and I see nothing but mashed potatoes."
Dakota laughed and replied, "Like I said, no imagination."
The girls talked for twenty more minutes, and then Tamara brought the call to an end.
"I have to go get something to eat. I'm starving. I haven't eaten anything all day except a bowl of Cheerios at breakfast. I'll call you in another week or so and let you know how I like my job."
Tamara drove to a mall near her uncle's house and entered the food court.
What do I feel like having? she wondered.
In addition to a pizza place and an express restaurant featuring Chinese cuisine, the food court offered the usual fast-food fare: McDonald's, Taco Bell, Arby's, KFC and Subway. Tamara got a craving for fried chicken and went up to the KFC counter to place her order.
"I'll take a two-piece dinner, extra crispy, and a Pepsi."
"And your two sides?" the girl behind the counter asked.
"I'm not a big fan of coleslaw, so I'll take a double helping of mashed potatoes."
When her food was ready, Tamara took her tray to the center of the food court and sat at a table beneath a giant skylight. She looked up at the clouds and smiled.
"Mashed potatoes," she said to herself.
At that moment, an emotionally disturbed young man entered the mall through the food court doors, carrying a semiautomatic assault rifle and opened fire on the crowd, killing twelve and injuring twenty-nine before being fatally shot by an off-duty policeman.
Moments after two of the gunman's bullets pierced her body, Tamara Rodney pitched forward over the table, her head landing on the plastic food tray and spilling her Pepsi. As the final breath left her body, her eyes saw only the mashed potatoes on her plate, not the grim reaper who was looking down at her from the clouds above the mall skylight.
Seeing Salem in the clouds is enough to give someone nephophobia.
