masking fear - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The fear travelled in Rory's veins but never made it to his facial muscles or skin. His complexion remained pale and matt, his eyes as steady as if he were shopping for shoes. He let out an understated sigh and turned to leave, showing he wasn't afraid to turn his back.
When Tammy stepped from the shadow, knife unsheathed, Tia set her face to "casual indifference." Her only way out was for Tammy to overestimate her skill level, to assume her lack of fear came from mastery instead of a raw nerve.
Geo pushed his face closer, his mind ordering his body to fall in line. Retreat would be a disaster, a show of weakness an inlet for the enemy to surge through. Nothing in his face betrayed his fear, it was a mask of defiance and surety, that's why he was the leader. The fear would need an out of course, he wasn't going the way of the others gibbering in their hammocks, but there was a time and a place and this sure as hell wasn't it.
Alana knew how to keep a poker face, all those Christmas Eve's spent gambling potato chips with Nan had paid off after all. So long as she appeared nonchalant, no pinkness in her cheeks to betray her, everything would be just fine. Derek moved so close she could smell his evening vindaloo on his breath. "If I ever find out you cheated me Lana, I'm coming for your sister first. Got it?" Alana angled her head to a more casual pose and resisted the urge to take a step backwards. Brinkmanship was her thing.
"I got it all, Derek, every dollar. And you know what? You make more money with me than three or four of your little boys."
I am watching them without turning my head, my heart is hammering but I keep my gait casual with no hint of hesitation. They can’t know about what happened in the park, not about my part in it anyway. To them it’s just a suspected Running Blade hit and I have no gang affiliation. My mind flickers back to the pack I’m carrying. Perhaps they’ll try to get it. Typically they don’t do that anymore, they get their wares by extorting market holders and, as I learnt today, selling kidnapped kids. I know from recent experience that it’s hard to even give a kid away, well, hard if you want them to be loved and cared for. So whatever the fates of those kids it isn’t good. These guys will walk right by me, they do it to assert dominance, show their fearlessness, and I can’t even draw my blade.
The tide changed. For once, we waited for the insurgents. They moved up the street in predawn light. They formed a inverted V formation. The end of the V kicked in doors and looked in windows. Of course, the civilians had left hours ago, knowing that a battle was imminent. Had the civilians warned the terrorists? We had no way of knowing, but the rules of engagement dictated that we allow them to flee. So far, so good. But as they drew closer, with the captain's order not to shoot until the order was given, I began to breathe more shallow, and my eye was blurred from the closeness of the enemy. We now could hear them talking to each other. They were so sure the village was empty that they started to laugh as they spoke to each other. My finger sweated on the trigger of my M16. I could take out all of them. Then a loud, "Fire!" The whole squad lit up the pre-morning. The noise of weapons, and "Cease fire." The lifeless enemy lay in the street.
Through a swirl of sickening fears comes my mother's voice, casual and light. As usual, I can't hide my problems for more than a few seconds; but what can she do? Fight the police? Alter the minds of the masses? Help them see me just as I am - a teenager, a boy, stressed about homework, deadlines and making money at my part-time job. How can I tell her that my biggest fear isn't drugs or gang indoctrination, but those who swore to protect and serve? She's worked all her life to give us a good home, food and more. We've never been left wanting for hugs, smiles, laughter and acceptance in these four walls. But out there...out there I'm marked by my black skin and afro-hair. My white friends are envied for their physiques and I'm feared. Somehow my muscles threaten and theirs protect. What did I ever do? How can you prove a negative - that you're not bad? So I turn and flash a boyish smile, "Nothin' Mam, just thinking about math."