Fear Narrative

Tahlia Cisneros                                                                        October 16th

Ms. Kennedy                                                                                 Ap Lang

Fear Narrative

        “This it. This is how it’s all going to end.”, these thoughts raced through my mind. “Fourteen years is all I get…”, bubbled through my brain. My hands thrashed in the water violently, searching for something or anything to pull myself above the surface with. I failed every time I attempted to rise my head above the water, each time more difficult than the last. There I was, strapped into a kayak that had flipped over about 50 yards out into the ocean, inhaling buckets of salt water nearing my demise.

        All my memories began to play back to me, I didn’t want them to. I remembered my childhood, learning to sew, eating cheerios out of a ziplock bag, watching episodes of Spongebob before school with my dad. I recalled my birthdays, I remembered aging must faster than it felt as it happened. I remembered my family, my brother, my sister, my parents. No bad memories were there, only the good. Only the warmth of nostalgia that Christmas mornings and summer evenings could bring. I felt nirvana, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to continue to feel the sufferings of the world, I didn’t want to go yet.

        I was able to catch a breath of air, then the kayak shoved me back under the surface. I wasn’t sure how long I could have kept fighting, nor how long I had been fighting. How long is a minute when you’re losing your life, an hour, a century? It takes around 3 minutes to lose consciousness and 5-10 minutes to die. It felt like I was under the water for my whole life, though.

        I began to scream, wasting my oxygen, as I attempted to unbuckle myself from the kayak. The utter frustration and fear had begun to build up. I spent all of my life going to Church, and where was God now? Any deity willing to grace me with mercy? Where was someone, or anyone?