What Never Leaves



What Never Leaves fear stories
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magastromancia
magastromanciaYoung Potato that strings words together
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
What never leaves, but always burns

What Never Leaves

There was nothing wrong with the day.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, on time, and poured myself coffee without spilling a drop.

I walked down the steps carefully without tripping, and shifted my jacket, barely used.

The people parted around me as I slipped through them, brushed shoulders and wary eyes that never connected.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, nothing was different from normal.

There, on the corner, was the one eyed cat that watched for the crows.

There, in the trains, were the musicians playing for the pennies glanced their way.

But there was something wrong with me.

Trepidation curled in my stomach, my mouth pinched thin, my hands tightened around the straps of my bags.

I felt something there, building, based on nothing tangible, nothing available.

My mind wasn’t telling me to turn back, it was telling me to run forward.

Something Was Going To Happen.

That much I knew, but nothing more. My legs screamed at me to do something, but couldn’t name what. So I moved forward.

The day spun around me, normal in the collisions and cracks in people’s eyes, in the joy and the sighs. But it built, the knowledge that something was wrong.

Wasn’t there?

Was it just me?

My fingers trail on the windows, as they always do, but they don’t leave a mark.

Bile is in my throat but not in my mouth, my hands are shaking as north becomes south

I need to run, but it’s just a circle cage

I can’t find what it is, but it’s there, I swear it

Maybe it’s me

Staring back through the glass with pinched eyes and pale lips.

But it couldn’t be

Oh, but it could

So I turn and walk, pushing the fear away

It’s nameless and refuses to do as I say

It’s useless here, not speaking the final truth

But I should’ve listened

I knew I heard

I wake up to another perfectly normal day

With the feelings about to burst.

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