Fear, by Jennifer Legate
Fear. That crisp, black moment when everything falls away but the pounding heart, blood rushing in the ears, and adrenaline so powerful the sour scent oozes from the pores. The body tenses, ready to flee or put up a fight. Every sound becomes sharper, every detail brighter. Every moment ticks by like an eternity. We whisper.
The Russian and Afghan soldiers are just outside, and I feel their crushing presence, choking my breath off. I stifle an irrational, irrepressible urge to cough.
I think back to the beginning of the coup, just two days after our school made the trip from Islamabad to Kabul for a convention. It was almost exciting. I did not worry because I knew, at age 17 in 1978, that I was indestructible. I knew this was just one more experience in my unique, weird life, and I accepted it. I set aside emotion as the other side of the city of Kabul was bombed. I watched, detached, as if I were enchanted.
Fear. That crisp, black moment when everything falls away but the pounding heart, blood rushing in the ears, and adrenaline so powerful the sour scent oozes from the pores. The body tenses, ready to flee or put up a fight. Every sound becomes sharper, every detail brighter. Every moment ticks by like an eternity. We whisper.
The Russian and Afghan soldiers are just outside, and I feel their crushing presence, choking my breath off. I stifle an irrational, irrepressible urge to cough.
I think back to the beginning of the coup, just two days after our school made the trip from Islamabad to Kabul for a convention. It was almost exciting. I did not worry because I knew, at age 17 in 1978, that I was indestructible. I knew this was just one more experience in my unique, weird life, and I accepted it. I set aside emotion as the other side of the city of Kabul was bombed. I watched, detached, as if I were enchanted.
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