Smoke, Fog, and Haze - CW #7

  The forest is little more than dark green pine needles poking out from inside the gray fog that blankets the world this morning. There is no visibility beyond my own hand, maybe a few feet beyond. I know trees exist there. I know the ground continues on. But I walk carefully, afraid that there may not be solid ground when I put my foot down.
  Sounds creep their way to my ears, eerie in the inky gloom that prevents me from seeing their source. The haze acts like a mirror, but with sounds, I can't tell which direction they come from. It is a strange thing, to know you are encircled by trees yet feel as if some ghost may come out and get you within a moment.
  Smoke would be preferably, its source known - fire. Yet, that, too, would be as worrisome. Where would I go? From which direction might I find safety if I cannot see beyond the blackness?
  I am frozen, unable to go forward or backward for fear of what may lay ahead. Will I find treacherous footing or solid ground? Will there be a good friend waiting or a large beast wishing to sup upon me?
  A decision must be made - to stand still and do nothing is to surely perish...

Dragon - Creative Writing #6

  My heart begins to race. I can feel it. That can't be good, when you can feel your own heart racing as if it might fly out of your chest, right? That's a description they use in books to help you understand how bad a situation is, yes?

  My eyes see the problem and my brain takes it and runs with it.

  Work. So much to do. So little time. Report cards. Lesson plans. After school events. Test, re-test, small groups. Programs. Meetings. Meetings. Staff Development. Desk is a mess. Boards look bad. Haven't changed anything on the walls. What do I focus on? Going home early for a change. It'll be there tomorrow, screw it.

  Home. Family. Husband. Child. Dad. Mother-in-law. Mom. So much to do, so little time. Where to go? What's first? What do I do?

  Fun. Rest. Relaxation. What are these things? Vacation? *scoff*

  Dentist. Drilling. Drilling. Noise, sharp. Turn the music up. Choking on tongue, but not. Tongue's touching my teeth. Brain insists my tongue is touching my teeth. Brain insists my tongue is choking me. Breathe. I'm breathing. Tongue is still choking me. This is not possible. Can' break through with the logic. Stuck. Tears. Heart beats faster and faster. Chest heaves. I'm choking. Gagging on the mold in my mouth. No, I'm not. Yes, I am. No, I'm not. They wouldn't keep working on me if I was choking. What if they can't tell? They can tell. No they can't. Yes, they can. No, they can't.

Panic. PANIC. It's sudden, unrelenting. Logic-defying. No control. No sense.

  It's a strange sensation, thinking logically and knowing something - I mean KNOWING - and still be unable to see your way out of it.

Panic. Anxiety. It is standing in a room of garage, holding a trash bag, and not knowing where to begin.

Panic. It is standing in a clean room, organized, and not knowing how to pull things down to get at the desired object.

Panic. It is your heart racing without you exerting yourself.

Panic. It's being unable to stand for no reason and suddenly being terrified of being stuck.

Panic. It is frustration. Rage. Mountain vs Mole-hill and the mountain is winning.

Panic. Unable to breathe despite having the ability to.

Relief: Suddenly feeling like the vise on your chest is gone. LIke your brain can put order to the chaos swirling about.

Panic: Standing in the center of a hurricane where all is calm, watching the swirling mass around you and knowing you are trapped and unable to change this.

Relief: You remain standing and all is quiet. There is no hurricane. Never was.

Panic: A dragon that breathes its deadly fire upon you and consumes you.