Catching Fear

Catching fear in my palms, I knew I was devoid of hope, yet I still pushed on with the gossamer silver cord of life. Bang! BanG! BANG! Three knocks, in precise, it was the third consecutive three knocks, I was locked in a janitor’s storeroom, no exits, no space for life, no escape, at all.

The thing was still on me, I was shrouded in fear, my thinking was impaired by fear, and only filled with the four-letter word, fear. The dread, the drudgery of sitting here and waiting for my death was imminent yet I could not do anything, I knew it would be futile because my attempts of even touching the thing was impossible, it was as if a magnetic force field surrounded it, not letting anything to go near it.

I stopped my train of thoughts, I was messed up, I knew I could never make it out alive, Screw this… Shit… Nothing was able to make me stand up again to save myself, even hope was a long shot. I curled myself in fear, a cocoon that would soon die in the hands of fear, I bet even before the thing got into the janitor’s room, I would suffocate myself first.

NO! Stand up! A voice, an ambiguous one, a nonentity, but it was prompting me to stand up, was it my voice? I could no longer cotton out reality and the imaginary place created by fear. The ground was my threshold, my grave, probably. The negativity was inundating me to the maximum. I grabbed hold of myself, telling, convincing myself that everything would be fine.

BANG!!! The door shattered into pieces, leaving me fully exposed to the towering, scary figure hanging in front of me, I could not move, I felt dejected but willing to offer my life to it, my will to live had been obliterated utterly, I could not decipher whether the hopes in me were still real or not, or were they just some trickery to extend my pain, my fear, the abysmal abyss that I was diving into, death.

I did not open my eyes to embrace my death, I shut them instead, hoping that the thing would be merciful to give me a quick death, a bittersweet release from this treacherous reality built by fear and fear alone. Kneeling down in a succumbing posture, gesturing the thing to end my life, fast. The excruciating feel was diabolical, as if Satan plunged his body through me, making a hole into me.

Opening my eyes before the pain had ended was the wrong decision, I should have waited, but I thought I was dead. I opened my eyes, I found myself locked in the room once more. The banging of the door did not stop, my fingers got in contact with the floor, it had marks four vertical strokes and one horizontal stroke, all impaled with blood, I counted those lines, 100 in total. And this would not be the last one, unless I could figure out a way to get out, but there was no way, at all. I was at a dead end, I gave up, a streak of crimson red blood was streaked from my neck, leaving the trace of my lost hope, making the floor sordid of a man who gave up on his own life.


Craving for more? Down below:
Terrains of Colonies
A Letter To Students In Schools
The Internet and A Creator
Hardship vs. Grittiness
Redefining Pain, Life, Stress.
Untamed Libido (X-Rated)
Mind Over Matters
Some Wisdom

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

5 thoughts on “Catching Fear

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