"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Sunday, September 4, 2011

All Consuming Fear


            She froze, mid-step, at the sight of the muscular black bear and his yellowed set of jagged teeth that glistened in the fading sunlight. Eyes widening, a string of incoherent thoughts buzzed in her mind. Droplets of sweat leaked from her pores as the sunlight, peeking through the branches of the imposing trees near by, continued to raise her body temperature. Spasms of shaking began to course through her body and she stood paralyzed by the bear’s gaze.
As is in slow motion, the bear trekked towards her. She felt her eyelids slide closed to block out the image of the approaching animal. With tears flooding her eyes, she caught a whiff of the bear’s rancid breath and strings of tingling pain ran along her ridged spine at his throaty growl. Wanting this nightmare to end, she allowed the blissful blackness to take hold of her.

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