Yule Phobias

The holiday season is a source of joy for many—frolicking in the snow, decking the halls, stringin’ up lights, belting out carols. It is a time for family and good cheer, jolly men in furry red suits, and tales of merriment and miracles.

For others, it is a source of pure terror.

  • yule phobias WEB ALLODOXAPHOBIA


    Fear of Opinions

    The discordant clang of silverware punctuates another heated rant, and Uncle Elliot whips out his phone to underscore his point with a Facebook meme he saw earlier in the day.

    Flecks of cranberry sauce spatter the table as a fist pounds in anger: a boisterous, conflicted, bombastic lather of red pepper, boiled cranberries, and bergamot.

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  • yule phobias WEB AMAXOPHOBIA


    Fear of Riding in Cars

    Encased in a roaring tomb of vinyl siding, strangled by nylon bindings, arms bruised and battered by writhing bodies punching and pummeling—punctuated by wild cries of SLUG BUG and CALL BOX—and endless discordant choruses of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

    Motor oil, a burst of exhaust, a faded tree-shaped air freshener, and crushed gas station chocolates.

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  • yule phobias WEB CHEROPHOBIA


    Fear of Gaiety  

    Clacking white teeth bared in repugnant, feral upturned leers.

    Laughter, hideous laughter: bubbling white ginger gurgling through hot red carnations, shreds of orange peel, and cloying globs of honey.

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  • yule phobias WEB KRIKOPHOBIA


    Fear of Religious Services

    Sour wine drying on an ancient ciborium, crumbling pages of a yellowed sacramentary, blinding glints of bitter white sunlight shattering off a tarnished monstrance, and doleful voices droning through a haze of oppressive, smothering incense.

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  • yule phobias WEB SYNGENESOPHOBIA


    Fear of Relatives and Relations

    God damn it, Uncle Steve. Nobody cares what Hannity has to say about anything.

    Buckets of red wine, a splash of aftershave, and copious amounts of blossoming gin.

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  • yule phobias WEB VISCACAEAPHOBIA


    Fear of Kissing Under the Mistletoe

    Pale, sickly flaps of vegetation looming over gaping archways, flaccid lips wet with hunger: cucumber and spearmint curling against the edges of dry, crumbling mistletoe.

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