I am sure I wasn't so much affraid as concerned. When I was 15 my boyfriend suddenly jumped on the Jesus wagon. As unhappy as I was about the entire thing I just kept it to myself and went with him anyway.
After about a week my BF decided on this small church located above a sub shop. A few dozen hugs and a cup of juice later we were sitting in our seats, the preacher screaming about the rapture and shaking his bible around like he was on fire. He was on a roll as he called for as many amen, Jesus be praised as he could. Then suddenly 20 minutes into the sermon, in the middle of his "god anoint us with your love" chant he dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. Not even a twitch from him nor the people around him. There was no concern, no rush to emergency, they were calm and at best excited. Some sang while others prayed. I think one of them was even knitting....
Then for 45 minutes all our asses just sat there and for that entire 45 minutes I was bored and worried out of my damned mind. Most of the time I was trying to figure out if he was dead, sleeping, or if everyone there was certifiably insane. The rest of the time I was trying to figure out what I was going to tell the cops if or when they ever came. At one point I even started to get up to go and check on him when one of the women grabbed my arm and sternly told me to sit because "god is here with us, can't you feel him? He is testing us, he is anointing us with his love, don't sin child or he will punish you to damnation so sit and pray for his touch". I sat back down looked over at my BF who looked as stressed as I did if not more. It wouldn't be till after we left that I learned that the entire time this was happening, he was thinking we were all gonna die and that they had poisoned the juice we had when we first arrived.
Soon the paster in his wrinkle free expensive suite jumped to his feet panting and praising gods love. The people chanted and chirped right along with him as he recounted his journey.... He said and I quote! "I went into gods home, sat beside him at his table, we had tea, we had cookies, but there were few cookies so he brought me the most wondrous crackers, and as we ate together god spoke to me of his love, and BLAH BLAH BLAH". He lost me at tea and cookies. I was mentally shut off at that point.
Few minutes later as we drove away I couldn't help but burst out laughing. When my BF asked what was so funny I blurted out "I wonder if Jesus ate all the cookies".
When I went to primary school we had a priest who used to visit who was the typical old fashioned Irish catholic priest, so he used to try and scare the living crap out of kids everyday for not praying, or not going to mass etc. I can remember one day he made a girl cry because she skipped mass on Sunday to compete in a horse riding competition!
But at the same time my mother was a teacher in the school and quite a dedicated Catholic too and she used to always reassure us to not pay too much attention to the Fathers threats because we were all good people etc.
Fortunately that priest left before I finished primary school and his successor was a much more accepting man who had no issues with me being an atheist and was more than willing to respect my decision. He never intimidated anyone into believing in hell or sins and all that!
So I guess I got lucky here in that I kinda came into education in Ireland as the old fashioned Catholic ways were on the way out (theyre still far too much of influence however! but thats another story).
I never really experienced outside of education either. Catholicism in Ireland tends to stay away from the 'fire and brimstone' imagery and basis itself more on moral/ethical teaching.
The one scary thing I do remember as a child though is confession, that was the one time when you got the whole 'you're going to hell' treatment.
When I was ten, my mother decided near bedtime to talk to my brother and I about Hell. It was a devastating experience: she described it in all its horrifying detail, complete with fire and torture and a complete life without God. And she said it with as calm a voice as she could muster, because she was clearly terrified of discussing it, despite her interest in telling us something she thought was something good for our spiritual health.
The worst of it was while I was crying in horror, I asked her, "Isn't there any way to escape?" She said, "No." I cried myself to sleep that night.