The tightrope was my defining moment. I have always been afraid. Of spiders, of lizards, of diseases far and wide, of god, of death, of the unknown. The worst of all my fears was my fear of heights. Anything higher than the steps to my front door were too high. Roller-coasters made me want to vomit just by looking at them. Whenever we drove over bridges, I would have to close my eyes - the alternative of looking down was too frightening.
It ruled my life for a long time. I remember being so stricken with fear inside an elevator that I was reduced to a crying sob in the corner. In an elevator, where I couldn't even see the heights that I was traveling. For awhile, it only grew worse. The very idea of height would set me off into panic attacks. I would be flat on the ground, my whole body as low as it could be, and looking at the sky would cause my chest to pump as if my heart were a shotgun freshly fired. My vision would become so blurry with tears and fear that I would no longer be able to see the sky - but I would be frozen, unable to recover for hours at a time.
I once asked my father why we fear. What use was it, beyond the ruler of my life? He told me that fear was a friend, an ally that guided us through troubled times. Some fear was necessary because it protected us from dangers beyond our knowledge. Fear was a warning to use caution where none may kill us.
It helped. I don't know why, or how, but it drove me to conquer my fears. Spiders became squished, lizards repelled, diseases were no longer a threat until they plagued me. God and death were out of reach, out of control, as was the unknown. They were not worth fearing until the time came that I was directly faced with them. I was almost free.
I had managed to ride a roller-coaster at a carnival. It had been fantastic, thrilling, blood pumping fun. I don't know what happened with my brain. I was a fool, I know. It was as if being free of my other fears had propelled me to a point where I forgot my fathers advice. I was fearless. Night set in and the carnival was packing up. I noticed that they had yet to take down their tightrope. I was alone. I crawled to the top, prepared to conquer my fear of heights once and for all. I
wish there had been someone with me. I wish someone had noticed that there
was no net below
The first few steps were incredible. The surge of elation through my veins felt stronger than any panic attack. It made me want to jump around and celebrate, to shout to the heavens in defiance of any challenge they might throw at me. I was the king of fear; the king of height!
My pace across the tightrope sped up until I was practically running. I slipped. Or tripped. I fell. I was right-side up, and then I was suddenly cruising towards the ground at an incredible speed. I remember the fear seeping back to me in those last moments. It felt like a friend rushing to my aid in my last moments. He tried to catch me, but it was too late. I felt the snap of bone, the rush of pain. I kept waiting for fear to say, "I told you so," but it never came. There was just silence and pain.
I should have died. Someone found me, rushed me to the hospital, and they managed to save my life. I am paralyzed from the waist down, now, but it doesn't bother me. Life is almost better. I keep fear close at hand, but it no longer rules my life. It simply reminds me, everyday, that some fears are there for a reason.
--------------------------
I should probably note that this is a fictitious story. So not real. Sorry if it felt real, or if the prompt was expecting it to be real.
For more on this prompt, click click! Thanks for reading, and have a nice day.
No comments:
Post a Comment