Saturday, 8 September 2012

Stepping Over the Threshold

That one step. The fear you'll be caught, the darkness, the unmarked drops and the plastic pushed and bullied in the wind. The emotion's unique, a reminder that not everyone feels this, sees this, earns this. The only person in a building meant for hundreds.

An unfilled swimming pool.

You push on, but are stopped completely; frozen. The light ahead bobs in a lake of darkness and turns towards you. Breath caught in time, you push down. Your feet scrape dust on the concrete. Nothing has ever been as loud. All the blood in your body rushing up your back. Light doesn't move. Your brain rushing to create a silhouette of a person to give your panic an excuse. A silhouette doesn't emerge, a shout never breaks the silence. Your own reflection, bounced off a half-open glass door by the street-lights. The shining screen of your phone pressed against your own leg a comfort and the cause of your own brief, private terror.

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