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A Narrative of when I was particularly nervous

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Transfer-Encoding: chunked ´╗┐Narrative of when I was particularly nervous How could my mother do this to me? I thought she was on my side. Not again. Not this. I don?t want this. My legs shiver under the tremendous pressure crushing down on me. The world seemed to spiral before my eyes. I need to sit down. I can barely walk to the car that would take me on the highway to h**l, as my legs tremble and quiver. We?re off. There?s no going back now. This is it. This is really happening. The windows shrieks as it recedes into the door. ...read more.


A smile cleaves its way onto my face. Phew. But then, my senses pick up a minute movement at the front of the metallic snake ahead of us No. No. No. No, this can?t be. I thought this was over. I thought I was free. Before I know it, droplets of salty water form on my hand and forehead. It starts all over again. The booming engine of the car tearing down the A42 resonates in my ears as every little bump in the road rattles my spine and sends a spray of sweat flying in all directions. The car shrieks to a stop, causing a deathly ringing in my ears. ...read more.


I take a seat on one of the blue chairs circled around the central hall, and tightly grip my fingers into the decaying fabric coating the soft sponge material encased within. The various models pressed onto the vivid posters on the high walls closely encircle me, staring down from above, scanning me and judging me from their position of superiority. A man slips out of a door in front of me, and begins to walk towards me. No. Please. Not yet. I?m not ready. He approaches, closer and closer. I sit frozen in anticipation of what he is going to say. Air exits and enters my lungs at a rate I can?t even believe. Waterfalls of sweat drip down my forehead, pouring into my already waterlogged eyebrows. ?Mr Davison, are you ready for your checkup?? ...read more.

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