Fear

My heart stopped. I swear it just stopped and for a moment I was dead. Not the death where your life flashes in front of you, not the death where you’re slowly wafting towards the light; just one where everything just stops. Silence. Eyes blinking in desperate hope that it will just go away. Fingers curled at my side digging into my own flesh. Body frozen. Legs tense. My eyes locked on the small mound of hair in front of my eyes. Reality struck that I was not alone in my single-bedroom. I’d awaken to a horrible sub-reality. It was small, neat tussle of hair hanging down its back. Pain seared through my arm where my fingers were clawing in. I wasn’t dreaming. It was real. It. I reminded myself to breathe. Terrified that the small unknown occupant of my bed would turn around and I would see its face. Does it even have a face?

Powerless, unable to move, panic rushing through every crevice of my existence. “It” moved slightly again. The hair that hung from the small fist-sized head was definitely human. But it couldn’t possibly be. My neck tensed, arms locked, head frozen. I tried to pull back. Again “it” stirred. I’d been asleep long enough to warm my bed. I wish I hadn’t been awaken from my slumber. Trying to close my eyes, but it was as if they belonged to another entity. I was forced to stare at the foreign head of hair a few inches from my face. I try to fight the fear that enveloped me. Blanketed me. Not even the warmth of the comforter offered me solace. I was trapped.

Gently closing my eyes, I summon the strength to take a deep breath. Eyes, please obey. Victory! I open them and to my utter horror it was still there. I try to pull back again. “It” stirs again. I shouldn’t move. I don’t want to anger “it”. I force myself to take a deep breath. Suddenly I smelt it. A faint, familiar scent coming from the small head of hair. It couldn’t be! My heart races. A thousand thoughts run through my head, contemplating my next move. I realized that there could only be one thing to explain how this could all come to be. Why it all happened to me.

…..and this is why I decided it was time to get my hair cut. ‘tis a horrible thing when one can’t recognize their own hair in their bed.

...and I try...

His eyebrows were furrowed. Eyes tense. The brim of his eyes welled with tears. His stare was sharp enough to cut through glass, yet it was staring at nothing. A trickle of teardrops fell from his eye, and ran down his nose; pausing at the tip. His fingers trembled; unsure of wanting to wipe away the tear. Fingers slightly shaken, slowly clench into a weak fist. He lifts it slowly up to his face, and tries to get rid of the tears. Beside him is his wife, whose arms are folded across her body. Closed off to the world. Her face is blank. No tears, no red-rimmed eyes, no furrowed eyebrows. Instead, she betrays no emotion with her luminous stare. Her breath is deep and calculated. Her hair immaculate, her complexion flawless. The only sign of her grief is the slight tension in her jaw; and the occasional tremor she lets out as she tries to swallow.

They are more afraid of you than you are of them.

Crystal clear waters. Floating aimlessly in a dream. Face tilted towards the sky, eyes closed. Slight weight of sunglass brim on the curves of cheekbones. Warmth of the sun against the breeze of the open air. The tingle of skin when the wind changes direction. One hand laid out against the side of body. Fingertips barely touching the outer thigh. The other hand draped across the body, fingers curled inwards. Shallow breathing. Strands of hair caught in the breeze. Legs crossed at the calves, toes pointed forward. Shoulders laxed, occasionally moving to shift weight to balance the movements of the waves.

Mark your fences

Red velvet cake.

The smell of liquid soap in the shower.

Turning on the hot water on a cold morning.

Waking up because you’ve had enough sleep.

Taking off the filmy-thingy from the simmering milk pot.

Standing over the ATM.

Realizing that your phone’s ringing.

Opening a can of condensed milk and seeing it ooze out of the small slit the opener made.

Waking up because someone is there who needs you.

Going somewhere and knowing there is someone there waiting for you.

Eating finger food.

Having a good cup of coffee.

Driving at night.

Sitting down on the bed after a day out.

Holding a kitten in the cup of your hands.

Aligning a cat’s forehead with your own.

A magical list of colorful sprinkles

Two cupcakes in a box.

A lava lamp in a dark room with the jiggly bits floating in it in random shapes.

Reese’s pieces.

Milk pudding.

Licking off the frosting from your lips and taking another bite at that cupcake.

Mozzarella microwaved on a saucer.

Apple sauce.

Barbequed chicken wings eaten out in the fresh night’s air.

That first bite from a slice of cake.

Blowing bubbles.

Being surrounded by bubbles.

Hugging a cat.

Hugging a cat and feeling its purr against you body.

Touching a cat’s nose.

Touching a cat’s nose and feeling it push back your finger.

Smelling a familiar scent.