I often worry about breaking my fingers. Not all of them though, just enough that would stop me doing things. Certain things that I love that pretty much require two hands. Things like playing guitar. Hell, even typing wouldn’t work so well. Technically I only use two fingers as I learnt bad habits, but if I crushed one of my hands, it’d definitely be more awkward. I worry about so many things sometimes. Things that could affect my life adversely. Usually such small things. I often watch things on TV or in films just waiting for the moment to go so exceptionally wrong. Any time someone’s handed anything sharp, I wait for the accident that results in something being cut or severed. I wait for the heavy object to drop on something important. I wait for structures to collapse. I’m always relieved when things go well. Maybe it’s because I have a tendency to be clumsy. Maybe it’s because of my own fears. But I always care deeply about the characters and hope they don’t hurt themselves. People on TV should be more careful. The next thing they know they’ll end up in fictional hospital having to explain just exactly how an iron became lodged in their trachea.
The war had just begun and we were on the front lines. We could look through the mist and see the advancing enemy. We were advancing too. My steps were reluctant, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell as the momentum of the marching was keeping me in time with the others. I gripped my rifle tighter, the sharp edges of the cheap metal parts digging into the skin of my hands. I squinted across the field, the soldiers on the other side were getting steadily larger. Sweat was forming on my forehead. I wasn’t sure if it was caused by the ill-fitting hat I was wearing or sheer nerves. It dripped down my face, some getting in my eyes. I blinked it away as best I could and kept on staring at the enemy. Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire. Shots had been fired. They came from the enemy, our guns wouldn’t be able to hit anything at this range, but theirs could. The bullets took down all of the soldiers near me. I saw them fall and stopped dead. I just stood there looking at their bodies. There were voices shouting at me and people behind were pushing me. I didn’t register any of it. I welcomed the bullet that put me to the ground.
-Alice
I’m not sure I know what fear is. I’m not acquainted with the full extent of that particular emotion. I know about panic and worry. I know about being nervous and feeling cautious of someone or something. But I don’t know fear. I don’t know what’s it’s like to feel like you could very easily die if even the slightest thing goes wrong. Not the feeling that you will definitely die. That’s not fear. That can be accepted. When it becomes inevitable, you’re not so afraid any more. No, I’m talking about that little tightrope of a moment where everything could be gone in an instant but there’s still that piece of hope that you cling to with every thought. That real fear that does things to your mind, that slows everything down. The fear that drives people to do extraordinary things. The emotion that moves adrenaline round our bodies and makes our hearts beat so fast that the beats begin to blur. The emotion that makes our bodies do things we really don’t want them to, but we’ve lost control of those functions right now. I don’t know that emotion. But I think I get a hint when I think about asking you that question.
-Alice
“Did you hear that?” asked Annika
“Yes,” replied Alexis, “but I’m not sure what it was. Any ideas?”
“It’s your house! I’m not intimately acquainted with the noises it makes!”
“Well, neither am I, really, but I’m pretty sure that was a new one.” She looked concerned, possibly even slightly frightened. Annika slid her hand into Alexis’ and squeezed it softly. She tried to comfort her with a smile.
“It’s not like it’ll be some crazed serial killer or something.” said Annika. “We live in a little village in the Cotswolds. We barely even get killer animals out here!”
“Well, obviously, but it could still be something to worry about. It could be some flaw in the house. The roof could be about to collapse.”
“It was probably just the wind…”
“The wind knocking the damn house down!”
“Oh, come on! You’re being melodramatic now. It was the creak of wood and nothing more.” She squeezed Alexis’ hand slightly tighter, trying to push the fear out of her by some form of crazed bilogical convection. “You’re just trying to change the subject because you’re losing.” She flashed a smile at her partner.
“I am not! And anyway, I’ve got you right where I want you…”
-Alice
