The Fear.

FortySeven

It arrives early today. No rational thought or pretence of ignorance can prevent it. It starts as it always has, the creeping feeling of unease coming over my body like an unwelcome lover, slowly tightening around me, sinews awakening, tightening, my body preparing for the onslaught of primordial sorcery it craves.

Perhaps today will be different? Perhaps today something may occur to justify this irrational mindset, this daily torturing of mind and body?

I allow my mind to wander, down the pathways of possibilities it meanders, conjuring scenarios to confound my feelings of horror and premonition. Finding violence and pain, toiling through the combinations of tortured body and mind.

The shame is coming, this socially awkward fight or flight need, where neither fighting nor running is an option, I stand, sweating, shaking, reeling with the onslaught of my fellow man checking, staring, judging my self, this broken, tragic self I project. Eyes wild, ready to break, frozen in this moment, my mouth dry, my mind racing. The shame, the absolute shame.

I tell myself there is nothing to fear but my fear knows better than I. It grows, unfolding its' complexities across my splintered conciousness, tendrils in every synapse, my mind is a torrid darkness of primeval instincts clamouring to be let free in one outrageous torrent, one burst of bile and hatred for friend and foe alike. I swallow back the bitterness, the bile will cool my burning heart, quenching the fire running through my pulsing veins.

The tide washes over me, it starts with a quiver and wave upon wave grows exponentially through me, each larger and more satisfying than the last, like a hundred small orgasms my body flushes, filling with the power, this awesome, dark, power. I am capable of anything. I am coiled inside like a powerful snake, waiting to strike at the heart of my demons. Potentially lethal. Energised immensely, I await the moment. Clarity is mine.

And it is gone.

It recedes in an instant, drawing with it my sense of self. I stand, a confusion of character, a frightened demon of my own making, my rationale is vocal now, urging restraint. My nerves come online, one by cursed one they awake, firing dread and horror throughout my weakened muscle. Desolation, from the receding wave, nothing, a void where my self used to reside.

FortySeven

My mouth drops in anticipation, my senses primed for the moment I know will come. Taut, I await. The silence is deep, I swim amongst it, achingly poised, my mind pregnant with confusion.

It will be different today. Today it will be I that bell will ring for, those klaxons blazing, the rushing of booted feet. The cruelty of time will no longer hold back the torment. I relish the moment, imagining the kiss of violence, its' stinging retribution setting me free of this delusional precipice I cling to high above my self, cradled in these walls of paranoia.

I hear the jangling in the distance, it echoes up the hall, pinging and mocking its way to my door. Bolting adrenaline pulses through me as the footsteps approach mashing each door with the key as he passes, the crash of each door swinging open I dream of the terrors residing within, released, free to inflict their putrid vengeance, their hatred stirred by a thousand whispered deceptions. They throng, gathering their numbers, the whispers growing ever louder, a cacophony of misadventure approaches.

The crash of the key turned a thousand times a day, the sound of that practised, measured action moves ever closer, relentless, it stalks my dread, crash, snick, boom. The steps get closer, crash! snick. Boom! Crash, Snick, Boom! Crash. Snick. Boom!

I can indulge no longer, the stage is set, fate beckoning me forward to this maelstrom of uncertainty. I stare at the door. Monstrous in its' enormity, powerful in its' security. Its' power broken only by the mating of the hated key.

CRASH! Snick....

FortySeven

Hmm, no idea what to do with this now. Have to admit, someone wrote in a thread that I wrote eloquently for someone who had no education then by chance I noticed the creative writing mod in the Rugby thread and clicked the link, thought I would have a crack but now feeling a bit daft. No idea of where to go from here and reading it again it feels very clumsy and a bit overdone. Anyone offer some advice? Any good threads on how to do dialogue? Can't carry on like this, this is like a thesaurus thrown at a feeling.

femur61

Your description to the build up to The Fear was real. I preferred your first piece. You say you thought it overwritten. I do find some writers overwrite, but if it is done well it can be pleasant to read. Your first piece was enjoyable.