Trepidation...

It always starts with a rumor… not a fact. Not an open declaration of the things you dread… but a faint suggestion of imminent danger, hovering at the borders of your conscious.

It distracts you… it diverts you… whispering the echoes of a nameless fear at the edge of hearing. And telltale beads of perspiration begin to break out on your cold and clammy skin.

Is it true… or is it not.

The question needs to be answered, but can never be asked save in a hoarse whisper. There is a superstitious anxiety that makes you wary… in case the speaking aloud of your panic… somehow calls into being the news you so wish is untrue.

But more importantly… you whisper, because your inner fear must never be known.

Outside… you couldn’t care less.

You aren’t bothered with some trivial, inconsequential rumor and whether it is fact or fiction. Even the worst that might transpire is a subject of your scorn. Your disdainful laughter rocks your body… so well masking the palpitations of your trembling heart.

But in spite of the act… your senses are heightened by a descending veil of terror.

Perhaps a faint whisper… or an unseen clue will help you know for certain. The wait is undoubtedly the worst part… alternating from panic to desperation. At least if things were confirmed… you could get on with preparing for your doom.

Your brain is a feverish, overworked machine… on the verge of an implosion. You are desperate to sum up the things you know. Desperate to put them together and formulate some kind of answer, some certainty… and soon. An end has to be brought to your present state… that’s only a small step away from a nervous breakdown.

You want to believe… desperately… that what has reached your ears is a lie. But you dare not say it out loud… or even try and think of it much. You are afraid that your fervent hope may be dashed mercilessly and leave you strung out and lost. You expect the worst and start taking measures. You hope all the while that your precautions, your defenses will prove unnecessary. But still you need to prepare… you need to do all you can before surrendering to fate. Anything is better than to be caught dreaming for a solution that will never come to pass.

You want to scream… and almost do. The overpowering weight of the suspense is far too great. You want to demand a confirmation… a surety of what the future has in store. All the long hours of doubt… of uncertainty, can no longer be tolerated… be withstood. You want even the worst to happen, if it means the doubt will cease. You want it all to be over and done with. You would rather face the pains of a hostile future than the agony of a clouded present. You want to put it all behind you.

You trepidation gives way to panic. In a sea of desperate words and irrational thoughts… your defeat that might have been avoided… is now confirmed. There’s nothing more to do anymore… except to wait, for the inevitable… in the distant calm, beyond the raging storm that has swept you up. The storm of your nameless dread… has proven to be true… and claimed you as it came to pass.