Legs Shaking Uncontrollably Novels & Stories

My whole body trembles, a low, uncontrollable shudder that seems to resonate down to my very bones. Lance sits on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, the muscles in his back coiled tight, each ridge standing out starkly in the dim light. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, fingers flexing as if he's trying to grasp the weight of his mistake.

I was shaking like I was having a convulsion attack. The floor was messy and slippery. They didn't stop. I didn't want them to.

Terror grabs me by the throat and squeezes tight when I try to get out of bed and find I can’t. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?” Mom asks, holding my hand to stop it from shaking. “I-, I . . . I can’t move my legs.”

My legs began shaking violently, as if an earthquake had struck. Khalid…? But I couldn’t feel anyone’s presence. The room was still pitch dark. I could just make out the door—and saw there was no one there. Unless someone had shut the door from outside, I was certain there was no one with me. So it wasn’t Khalid? My heartbeat hammered with fear. My legs weakened. I bent slightly, ready to sit, but that would only show weakness. So I steadied myself, even as I trembled. I began pacing frantically. “Khalid… or whoever you are, please… stop. I’m—I’m too tired for pranks.”

My legs shake, my stomach churns, sweat and nausea mixing, but I don’t slow down. I reach the door and jam the key in the lock, fumbling slightly because my hands won’t stop shaking. Click. The lock opens. I throw the door wide and freeze for a second at the sight. He’s lying on the floor. Still. Pale. His chest rises in shallow, irregular breaths. My heart thuds painfully in my chest. “Kael… Kael!” My hands tremble as I drop to my knees, sliding him gently onto my lap. I cradle his head, running my fingers through his hair, shaking him lightly, desperate.

Glancing around for the watering can, I went about the small task of watering some of the pots. As soon as I tried to lift the can above the table, I was struck with a terrible tremor in my hand. I sucked in a sharp breath and bared through the struggling pain of not having total control over myself. My heart seized in my chest. I hoped that this wasn’t something that was permanent. I had a bad enough feeling that I was going to be dealing with other long-lasting issues.

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.

🪷ISORA🪷 I lay in my room staring at the ceiling and my whole body was shaking. Not from the cold. Not from the kind of shaking that has a physical cause you can address by pulling the blanket higher or moving closer to a heat source. The kind of shaking that comes from the inside, from a conclusion that keeps arriving no matter how many times you redirect your thinking away from it, no matter how many alternative explanations you line up and examine one by one, they all keep pointing back to the same place.

Miranda mumbles, her eyes filled with guilt. My left ankle throbs, causing me to glance down at my trembling leg. Not again, I think to myself, as the familiar sensation of uncontrollable shaking sets in. "I'm so sorry." Miranda insists, her voice laced with regret. I stumble and clutch the wall for support, my body betraying me once more. As I struggle to stay upright, Miranda rushes to my side, concern etched on her face. "No, don't come near me. y-you will only make the pain worse," I snap, the pain shooting up my leg and spreading through every fiber of my being.