On Fear

Some people walk with shadows wrapped around their ankles. These are the people who keep throwing looks over their shoulder at the teeth and claws only they can see, reaching out of the shadows. They walk with small, scared steps that make no sound on the floor but echo like earthquakes inside their own heads. They will give you a quick, (self-)reassuring smile as they pass; trailing shadows and imaginary monsters.

They walk either with backs painfully straight or hunched, because fear can choose either to drag a slimy, cold finger down your spine or shove its clammy fist right into your gut. It whips out a handkerchief and binds your jaw to your skull so you can't say help me; and the only sounds you can produce are a pathetic little whimper and an apocalyptic shriek. Fear laughs in your face as you scream your heart out when no one hears.

Fear makes mocking gestures as you sit stoned in your chair, when the timer begins to tick dangerously close to zero. It marches its cold, smoke fingers across your test page and makes it hard to read the words. Fear holds a magnifying glass right against your eye so all you can see is the first three words of that question and nothing else. Fear wriggles its fingers around your heart and (just for fun) drags it down into your bowels to see how far down it can plummet.

Fear tells you that that hallway to your left was not there before. It says that you failed your exam--you know, that one; the one that ultimately decides your future? No, even more, your life and death?

Fear takes the strands on the edges of your imaginative tapestry and spins it just a little further. It laughs in delight as it forces you into dark corners and pushes tears out of your eyes--even tweaking embarrassing squeaks and sobs at the occasional freaky moment.

Fear waves goodbye and slips out the door. And just when you sigh in relief, it whispers boo from behind your shoulder and sends you shaking and trembling down the same roller-coaster ride.