“I think the scariest part of feeling is that more often than not, they don’t appeal to logic.”
Em looked into his eyes with a wry smile on her face. He blushed, quickly looked away, fearing eye contact at the moment when eye contact was most necessary.
They were thinking the same thing, of course. The difference was, he didn’t want to admit it.
Seconds passed. She could tell he was choosing his words carefully.
“So…what are you saying?” Only because he wanted her to say it first; he knew exactly what she was saying.
Em smiled that patient smile of hers. She sounded weary, yet determined.
“I’m saying, maybe we rely too much on logic. I’m saying, maybe we don’t trust the knowledge within ourselves enough. I’m saying…I’m saying, what are you afraid of?”
He knew and he didn’t know. Fear is, more often than not, grounded in so much more than meets the eye.
The complex nature of fear. It can define us.
He simultaneously knew that and didn’t know that.
And that, precisely, was what terrified him the most.
Flash fiction intrigues me. The power of such a short story. It’s invigorating, really. Fun fact about me: It’s my dream to publish a novel one day (and no, not the ridiculously terrible novella I wrote when I was 12). The thing is, the prospect of building up a fictional world and sticking with it absolutely terrifies me–just the time and the energy and the dedication. But I want to, I dream to, I desire to…someday. So, I’ve been forcing myself to write fiction lately. When time abides, of course. After all, one must start somewhere…