A frightening experience by Haya Aman

Standard
What frightens you? What may be scary for one, could be a bit of a joke for another. For surely, once in awhile we are forced into facing our fears—deal with situations we are not equipped to deal with.
December night, the cold air was merciless. Wind whipped at me. Tears, which I could not explain, ran down my cheek numbing my already frozen face. My unmade eyebrows knit together in distress. Deep lines were etched into my forehead.
Vision blurred by a layer of water—which I still can not explain. My slightly jagged, oval nails dug into the palm of my hands drawing blood.
I felt the blood in my ears pound and my heart beat erratically, loud enough for the world to hear. My knees were buckling. Maybe I was about to pass out? They knocked together and I could not tell if it was the fear or cold making me tremble.
I inhaled hugely trying to focus. I pushed myself to get a grip. I needed to react. I needed to speak.
 
Instead I stared back into his warm, pleading hazel eyes. They beseeched me to just say anything.
 
I felt my throat constrict. I wanted to yell out and cry. I wanted to run, I wanted to stay, I wanted to do anything but stare back at him like a lifeless robot.
 
I tried to choke something out but it came as a whimper. My lips quivered. I felt numb inside. My eyelids drooped and I wished to flee the scene; perhaps I wanted to clear my head.
 
Even though I was wrapped heavily in a beige coat and my favorite black Doc Martins I felt the cold seep into my bones. 
 
His warm, tan hands reached out to steady my cold, pale ones. The warmth of his touch sent me over the edge. 
 
A strangled, animalistic sob escaped through my blubbering, shaking lips. Hot tears cascaded down my face like a waterfall. 
 
I found my voice. 
 
I yelled till my throat was raw.
 
“No!”
 
Over and over. My throat hurt and my eyes burned. My heart ached and my knees finally gave out.
 
I was a pool of clothes, tears and pain. A pool sounds too peaceful; I was a mess. A wretched mess sprawled across the snow.
 
I cried to a point of sickness. I emptied all the contents of my stomach on the clean, white snow besides me.
 
There. Now I spoilt that too.
 
All the while a familiar, husky, deep voice told me to calm down. Cooing random nonsensicals into my ear.
 
He might have been alarmed as to what he said to set me off. But I could not even register him anymore.
 
I felt the frosty snow hit the nape of my neck from the heavens above. My striped scarf now laid on the ground besides me. 
 
The tears dried up. I used them all. But I was no where close to done. I dry heaved. My chest was on fire and I stained the ground before me some more. 
 
No one would be able to save me from this. The strong fortress I have learnt to build around me came crashing down with one puff from the big, bad wolf.
 
I wish I could pretend I acted with responsibility and sense. Instead I ran. 
 
I ran like a coward being faced with all her greatest fears.
 
And I never turned back to face them.
 
Haya Aman

About froebelianwriters

I am an English Language teacher teaching O'Levels Edexcel and CIE A Levels at Froebel's International School, Islamabad. I am also working as a Subject Specialist Literacy consultant for the same school. Writing and reading has always been a passion and I try my utmost to instill these habits and hobbies in my students as well. I can be reached/contacted at fabbas227@hotmail.com or 03365287335 Happy reading!

Comments are closed.