Leg Shaking Uncontrollably Novels & Stories

I can hear the sound of his footsteps as he struggles to catch up with me "Wait!" I don’t stop. I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall apart, and I refuse to let anyone—especially him—see me this way. But my legs betray me. out of my control, my legs slow down because deep down, I want someone to stop me. To tell me I’m not crazy. That I’m not overreacting. That I matter.

“I mean nothing to you. It’s all pretend. You push then you pull, you’re hot then cold, I don’t even know what’s real anymore!” I let him go, backing away, ready to bolt out of here. Say something damnit! His jaw goes slack, dropping open like he’s gasping for air, and then his head slumps forward. “I’m s—so s—orr-“ His speech is slurred, and he stumbles back, sways, his body shaking like a leaf in a storm. Confusion makes me take a step forward. “Wh—“ Suddenly his legs give out from under him, folding, making him crumple and drop like a lifeless doll with the control strings cut. He hits the floor with a thud.

I stepped in anyway, ducking under a low beam, and the second I was inside my legs gave out completely. I collapsed onto the floor. The wood was rough and cold against my cheek. Splinters dug into my palm where I tried to catch myself. I lay there on my side, chest heaving, listening to the rain hammer the roof and the drip-drip-drip of water hitting the floor a few feet away. My whole body started shaking. Not just shivering. Real, uncontrollable tremors that rattled my teeth and made my injured ankle throb harder with every heartbeat. I curled my fingers into the rotten boards and held on like that might stop the shaking. It didn’t.

“Oh my God.” I nearly passed out. My entire body started to shake, and it was so difficult to stop the uncontrollable trembling. I quickly looked away, gripping the dress tightly.

To the point where my body cannot control itself and shakes vigorously in terror. My throat feels heavy and my chest feels clamped up. It's almost as if I can barely breathe. I let my other hand fold over my palm, with the aim to stop it from quivering as violently as it already is but that only worsens my cause. Now, my entire being feels like it is on fire. I let out an exhale, running my hands through my hair while trying to take control of my breathing. I don't even know if this is working but I keep going regardless.

My arms tremble but I do not stop until they almost give out. The restlessness stays. It wraps around me from the inside, tight and suffocating. Like invisible walls inching closer. I know what this is. I know why it is happening. I move to the leg press and load more weight than I usually would. I sit back, place my feet against the platform, and push. My muscles protest. I welcome it. Push. Lower. Push again. If I can exhaust my body, maybe I can control it from happening. The thought loops through my head as I push myself harder, faster, stronger. My muscles are already trembling from training and the gym, but I do not stop. I move from the leg press to sprint intervals outside, cutting a

He let go. One. Two. Three. The leg held. The pain started in the thigh and spread to the knee and up into the hip. Four. Five. Six. The leg shook. A visible tremor, the knee wavering. Seven. Eight. Nine. The place where the leg always stopped. It said no now with the same certainty it always said it. He didn't stop. Ten. The pain sharpened. Eleven. His fingers twitched at his sides. Twelve. The shaking moved into his hip. Thirteen. His jaw clenched. Fourteen. The woman in the courtyard pinned a sheet to the line. Fifteen.

My legs are shaking, my thighs are sticky and my heart hasn’t slowed hasn't slowed yet, so I just barely manage to read the bold, slanted strokes. “See you next week.”

It was a violent, microscopic jerk. "It’s a neurological tic, likely linked to the same genetic mess that caused the hip issue. He keeps it hidden by always keeping his right hand in his pocket or holding something heavy to steady it. But it’s easily triggered by a sudden spike in adrenaline or, more importantly, refined sugar. His system can’t process it correctly. If he has even a bit of high-fructose corn syrup, that hand starts dancing, and he can’t stop it." "A tremor and a limp," I whispered.

“Your legs are shaking.” I hadn’t even noticed that my legs were shaking. It was something that happened whenever I was nervous and couldn’t control the situation. I placed my hands over my thighs to stop my legs from shaking. Letting out a deep breath, I looked at my sister. “Parker isn’t answering his calls or responding to my text messages.” My voice was a hushed whisper. I couldn’t risk having my parents hear my conversation. “What?” Serena gasped. “Have you tried calling his assistant?” She asked, her voice laced with a hint of concern.