Fear Of Long Words Novels & Stories

She went to the park on Tuesday and told Mrs. Mary everything. The second glass of wine on Thursday. The moving away at the kitchen counter. The quality in his face she had never seen before. Mrs. Mary listened without interrupting. When Alison was done she was quiet for a long time. Then she said: "He is frightened." "Yes," Alison said. "Not of James. Of losing something he cannot name." "He said those exact words." "Yes." Mrs. Mary threw seeds. The pigeons came. "That is the most frightening kind of fear. The kind without a specific object. When you know you are afraid but you cannot say of what exactly — that is the kind that eats from the inside."

Giving me space to recover without pressure. The worst one was at my first gallery coaching. Five people showed up. Three were family. I locked myself in the restroom and hyperventilated for twenty twinkles. ” I find myself smiling despite everything. “ What did your sister say? ” “ That fear means you watch. That only people who want something real get fear attacks about it. People who don't watch? They sleep just fine. ” That lands hard. I unwrap my rolex slowly. “ I watch too important. That’s always been my problem. ”

I tried to smile at him, but I couldn't. I was so filled with fear. I mean I know what I just experienced was really intense, but I would think I would be bale to handle it better since I've experienced other frightening situations. But for some reason I am scared of my mind. Then I realized, the words he whispered had been going on repeat in my mind, over and over again. Those words, that was what I was afraid of. I still felt myself shaking, cold and whimpering.

What I feel is not fear. What I feel — and I have no word for this in any language I know, so I am building the word as I go — is something like *grief-adjacent.* The specific register of something that has held on to the wrong thing for so long that letting go has begun to feel like loss even though it is the opposite of loss. "Not afraid," I say. "Anticipating." "There is a difference," Delara says. "Yes," I say. "One means it will fight. The other means it's getting ready for something it hasn't done before."

Jacob opened the passenger door for me but before I entered, I suddenly turned and grabbed his shirt tightly. His eyes widened slightly. “What if they die?” I whispered. There it was. The fear. Real fear. Not business fear. Not survival fear. Actual fear. Jacob’s entire expression softened instantly. “They won’t,” he said immediately. “You don’t know that.” “They won’t,” he repeated firmly this time. I stared at him for a second longer before finally getting into the car. The drive felt too long. Every second irritated me. Every red light made me want to scream. And the worst part?

Now I understood, with the particular clarity that comes only after the fact, how quickly solid ground could shift. "I understand," I said, and meant it, though the words came out smaller than I intended. "I don't think you do, not entirely, and that's alright, because I didn't understand either until I sat with it awhile." Margaret reached over and took one of my hands in both of hers, her grip warm and sure despite her age. "Fear isn't the same as hate, child. Most of what you're going to feel from this pack in the coming days is fear, plain and simple, fear of a thing they don't have a box to put it in. That's not the same as them turning against you. Give them time to be afraid before yo

He deleted that one too. He tried twice more that afternoon, in the gaps between meetings he could not, afterward, have described the content of. Nothing came out right. Every version sounded exactly like what it was — a man trying to explain cruelty without explaining the fear that had caused it, because the fear didn’t have words yet. In the end, he sent nothing.

To scare me. And it was really working ,my fingers were shaking uncontrollably,my breaths uneven. I read the text again and this time a wave of fear zipped through me. What if he was watching me this instant? Calling for help crossed my mind for the briefest moment But I couldn't. It has always been like this , I have never been able to voice our my many fears.... all the bone wrenching nightmares to them, I always feel that they wouldn't understand.

Elder Oscar announced shakily. Fear... the emotion that makes people weak, feel powerless and become obedient... I wanted them to feel the chills of being in the presence of me and tremble at the sight of me, I wanted them to feel the urge to bow down to me, to submit, as it will serve as a warning to those who wish harm upon me, and as a reminder that one wrong move and they will pay the consequences.

The representatives, most of whom I knew their ancestors were seated, staring at me, their eyes full of curiosity and some, hatred. "Fear is a very useful motivator. The fear of failure, fear of those that would hurt us, fear of the unknown, and ultimately, the fear of death. But once we let ourselves be consumed by fear, it destroys us," I began to speak. "And what about the fear of the know, Mr. Lugard. Would it not be foolish for us to guard a herd of sheep with a wolf? No offense Micheal," she apologized to the leader of the wolves who seemed to be the youngest in the room.