Not the raw unadulterated scream of a teenager
Not the scuttle of the spiders legs
Not the deep endless dark patrolled by the ranger
Not the large alien hatching eggs.
Not the thumping of the running
Not the nearly endless chase
Not the plan that thrives on cunning
Not the potential of death’s embrace.
But the sitting hear waiting
But the not knowing what to do
But the corrdiors that become grating
But the analytic review
I don’t know what is coming next
I don’t know if I’m okay
I don’t know how it got so complex
I don’t know how to keep the fear at bay.
This is my response to the daily prompt: Help