Polar bear

-Hello, my friend. What's the matter?
-I'm a polar bear and I'm new here. I don't find any food.
-I'll help you, my friend.

-Motherfucker!!

Fear

Fear is an instinct. It advises us about a possible hazard -as indentified as unknown- and alert to all our senses. It makes us to face as fast and appropriate as possible depending on the situation, assuring -or trying at least- our survival.

It is a direct inheritance from our ancestors who needed fear to escape from predators and thereby guaranteeing the survival of the species.

Fear is necessary, useful, if you know how to manage it and face the danger to make it disappear or minimize as much as you can.  It is not a weakness but strength, as a shield for a warrior to avoid him being fatally wounded. Simply that animal which does not fear anything, which does not recognise any threat, is easier to catch. The lack of fear exposes ourselves to the danger, making it lethal sometimes. The one who knows the danger and knows how to measure it has the key to beat or avoid it.

However, something as useful as that can turn against you when you do not know how to manage it, when it dominates you, when instead helping you it blocks you, paralyses you and condemns you...

Just drafts...

…The old lady was wearing an old, worn robe and she carried a large glass of whisky and a dark cat. It seemed she had been waiting for them. Then the old woman made a slow movement with her sharp forefinger and invited them to enter in the house.

Once inside, they felt it was colder than outside. The house was absolutely silent and they knew they could not come back outside never again when the old woman drove them upstairs. On the top of the stairs, two huge dogs were growling menacingly like the three-head-dog Cancervero keeping the gates of the hell.

They could not believe everything was really happening and, when they entered in the small, dirty room the air blew and shut the door strongly with a big noise. Suddenly they started laughing hysterically, they could not do anything else...

Thumbelina (Hans Christian Andersen-1835)

...One night, while Thumbelina lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt. "What a pretty little wife this would make for my son," said the toad, and he took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the garden...
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...Una noche, mientras pulgarcita dormía en su camita un enorme, feo y mojado sapo entró por un cristal roto en la ventana y saltó justo en la mesa donde la pequeña dormía bajo un pétalo de rosa. "Qué preciosa esposa sería para mi hijo," dijo el sapo, cogió la cáscara de nuez donde la pequeña dormía y saltó a través de la ventana adentrándose en el jardín...

..."Croak, croak, croak," was all his son could say for himself; so the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it, leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept. She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having his ugly son for a husband...
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..."croak, croal, croak," fue todo lo que dijo su hijo por sí mismo; así que el sapo cogió la elegante camita, y alejándose remando con ella dejó a Pulgarcita sola en una hoja verde, donde ella se sentó y comenzó a llorar. Ella no podía soportar pensar vivir con el viejo sapo, ni tener a su horrible hijo por marido...

...During the whole summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf, to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning...
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...Durante todo el verano la pobre Pulgarcita vivió completamente sola en el gran bosque. Tejió una cama con hojas de hierva y la colgó bajo una ancha hoja para protegerse de la lluvia. Chupaba la miel de las flores para comer y bebía el rocío de las hojas cada mañana...

...She came at last to the door of a field-mouse house, who had a little den under the corn-stubble...
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...Llegó finalmente a la puerta de la casa de un ratón de campo, quien tenía una pequeña madriguera bajo los rastrojos de maíz...