Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Liz checked her watch; she’d miss her curfew if she didn’t rush; ran for the trees. Twigs crackled underfoot. Cobwebbed leaves brushed her face. Then she froze. Sharp rustling; whispered crunch; Liz drew breath and fled. Footsteps pounded behind her; distant street-lights shone ahead; hand on her shoulder; curfew missed.

Fear tastes like copper, or blood. It sounds like too many voices, like noise on the line. It tingles your nose; feels like cotton-wool over your eyes; looks like a TV screen when the signal’s gone bad, out of sync, out of time. “Next please”—the dentist’s chair awaiting me.

“Climb down,” said Dad. The girl was scared. Climbing up was easy but now she seemed so far above the ground, and couldn’t fly. “Climb down,” said Dad. “I’ll help.” “But it’s too hard.” “Baby’s can’t use climbing-frames,” her older brother sighed. Girl jumped and landed safe in father’s arms.

It’s not the dark that scares me. See, I’m walking without light. The night Is bright enough for me. It’s not the shadows. Watch them flee. They have no words to answer me. They haven’t heard my cry. It’s not the walls. They try to close Me in, surround on every side, But I just pass them by. It’s not the memories either. They Were just another night or day, Another time of life. Not this, nor that, but sudden snatch Of thought or light or image catches Fire, detaches me. He touched me Who should not desire Such sin. Written for ReadWritePoem , April 3rd prompt - something that scares you.