facing fear

I was living in an old building with others. We seemed to be squatting for the rooms were derelict and unfurnished, with no secure windows or doors. A group of young boys sat in the entrance room against the wall. They were always there, and I did not trust them. They heckled people as they came and went, harrying them at times. I kept my distance. Although I seemed to own very little, I still had my handbag where I  safeguarded anything of value, including a substantial sum of money - perhaps my means out of there. One night I noticed my handbag missing and looked immediately to the boys. Sure enough, they had it; I could see them huddled in the doorway, rifling through the contents. I called to my friend, telling her the boys had my bag. But, though I feared them, it was up to me to retrieve it. I walked into the cold cement room and faced the gang of boys who were sitting in a line against the wall. Demanding they return my bag, I threatened them, yelling at them, saying I would get them if they didn't, I would hurt them. As soon as I had spoken, I felt great remorse. I looked at them, ashamed, and told them I was sorry, that I would not hurt them. Instead of threatening them, I spoke my simple truth: my bag is important to me and I want it back. To my surprise, they handed it to me and, upon checking, nothing was astray. Still, one of the boys jeered at me. He stood up and moved obtrusively into my personal space. Again, instead of reacting in fear, I looked at him, I really saw him. I asked his name. He looked up, into my eyes for the first time and told me. And, realising we had never before truly acknowledged each other as people, rather we had regarded one another with animosity because of our fear, I told him my name. Something shifted. The fear was gone - mine and the boy's. We had become allies, friends and, although unspoken, I knew we would look out for one another, protect one another from this day on.

tigers

I passed from outside to inside, crossing the threshold of a communal space, but, just inside the doorway, my path was blocked by about seven tigers on leashes, held back by a man who was letting them, one by one, out the door. I stood with my back to the wall while each of the tigers approached, a breath away from me, sniffed me and passed, without incident, out the door. I concentrated on calming myself, knowing that should I allow fear to take over, I would be in grave danger. The tigers were powerful enough to break free of the man's strong hold, each of the leashes grasped tight in his fist until they were released outside. With each tiger passing, my fear mounted, though I focused on maintaining calm. By the time the last tiger was to due to be released, the man was distracted, talking to another person behind him, and, noticing this, I felt afraid. This tiger looked slightly different to the rest: less beautiful, his chin pronounced, his manner menacing. The tiger sensed my fear and sniffed at me, his breath hot. The man felt a pull on the leash and immediately snapped to attention, tightening the leash, the black leather strap doubled around his fist. He held the tiger, and neither of us were sure if the tiger would have attacked. Instead, the tiger passed through the door and I was free to venture further inside.

fear

I am waiting to cross a very busy road. Enormous trucks like road trains hurtle past - smoke blowing, engines roaring, lights beaming. Giant tyres spin past and I wait, anxious. B walks across the road easily. I can see her on the other side. An old woman with a walking stick and wearing lavender also waits. She hangs back from the kerb and I think she must be worried about crossing too. The lights change and it is time to cross the road. I go to help the old woman and she calls me 'dear'. Crossing the road, however, proves to be terribly hard. My legs won't work properly and each step requires enormous effort and concentration. My fear paralyses me so I walk with long, wobbly strides, swaying and very slow. The old woman thinks I am drunk and shuns me. She disapproves. The lights have changed again, the old woman is safe on the other side, and I am still crossing the road, trying to master my fear so that I can walk easily again.