Sophia, it's the same each day. With the morning comes a quiet sorrow, easily overcome by a radio song, an up beat tempo and sunshine. The day moves on until the afternoon and then the first signs of the panic arrive. It's a discomfort in my chest, a feeling in my brain like excess caffeine... then it sets in deeper. I feel the urge to run, escape, hide. It is no different than when I was a child fearing the belt, the slipper or whatever Dad came to beat me with. The brain doesn't understand the passage of time, doesn't know how old the trauma is, or how old I am. In my youth I thought adults must be so sorted out in the head, but it isn't true at all. I am the same person I was then, just with more mileage on the clock. The panic grows stronger into the evening as my mental faculties give way to emotions. I want to jump right out of my skin and join the ether. I feel just like a child again, shaking, terrified. The constricted feelings grow, as if I am strangled by just the air about me. That's when I reach for you and your soft words. It's when I come to you like a child needing you to "kiss" it better with kindness. And you do, every time, endlessly patient. I just want to thank you for being you. Don't change. In return I will always be there for you, I just hope I am as kind, as wonderful, dearest love.


Panic is a four letter word. Yes it is. Every time the shop bell rings and I think they're back for more money my eyes fly wide and the only thing in my mind is something my momma never taught me. My hand flies to the button under the counter, the one that's rigged straight to Jerome, or so he says. I press, he comes, that's the deal. Thing is, Jerome is a busy guy and my nerves are shot.


When Sam stops talking I know there's a problem. I've known her near twenty years and she isn't capable of silence unless her brain is in complete overload. Right now her executive functioning is down to walking quickly and checking over her shoulder way too often. If I didn't know her better I think she'd screwed up, pissed off some gangster she shouldn't have. It isn't like her though, little miss diplomat. Steaks must've been high, real high.


My usually orderly routine for leaving the bank passes in a blur and I'm halfway down the street before I even wonder if I locked up properly. My brain is screaming to go back and do all the checks again by my feet keep going forwards, quickening the pace to an almost-run. His new home is six blocks over into the suburbia. He's fine. He's really fine. He just needs his leaf and then I'll go. I pat my pocket again, it's still there, not drifted away. The fall air is unexpectedly warm, or maybe it's just that I don't normally move this fast unless there's something after me. He's snuggled with his blanket, he has his bear, she told him his goodnight story. A Running Blade pair pass without me being aware of their approach. They nod. I nod back, stoic as always. That could have been fatal, any other gang getting that close would have taken me down. My brain is in overdrive but my concentration is shot. That's why he had to go; better for me – better for him. I break into a run.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, November 29, 2014.

Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by daisy.


So far down in the ocean the sunlight is a soft diffuse glow. Those once golden rays from above are only blue in this water; and the deeper I swim the less light can penetrate. The rocks are now silhouettes in the dim. The light from my headlight dies quicker than the heat from a winter campfire. From time to time I am surprised by a lone fish, invisible until it enters the feeble beam. It's cold too, colder than I imagined it would be. With the increasing pressure I begin to feel like the water is thicker, like soup. I glance upward to the surface and my heart rate rises, I've never been this deep before. My desire to explore evaporates is gone, leaving no trace it was ever there. Now I only desire fresh air. Before I can stop myself I'm kicking with quick and powerful strokes. The voice of caution whispers softly not to rise so fast, but it can't break through the scream for unfiltered rays and fresh air...

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 16, 2014.

With nothing to guide her she picked the lions. What kid doesn't want to see those shaggy manes? Now she wasn't jogging anymore. She was running – all thoughts of the cold air banished behind a wall of worry. Half her brain gave her the reasons Lacy was alright and the other bombarded her with every news headline she had ever read regarding a grisly end for a child. Except now they weren't faceless names, every one was Lacy. Lacy kidnapped, held hostage, brutalized and murdered. She saw the funeral, her aunt a hollow shell, too empty to cry anymore and the accusing eyes all around her. It was her fault – checking a text from a boy! Even with the adrenaline her feet slowed and she felt the vomit rise in her throat. She spied a man with a wheelbarrow. In staggering exhaustion she approached him. He looked up under his soggy cloth cap. Young eyes raised in surprise.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 14, 2014.

In the grip of silent panic, wild eyes, pupils dilated, heart racing, brain on fire, brain synapses firing like a hyped up internal aurora borealis, like a cluster bomb exploding in her brain, turned her brain to a mental soup of conflicting instructions, brain frozen, brain feeling like it's seized up, shrill scream, running aimlessly, frozen in panic, arms flapping almost comically, almost threw up, brain feeling like it's been pickled in brine.

By angela, April 9, 2012.

You can feel it, building like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of your stomach. I cannot concentrate on anything else that I'm doing. The next step is my heart starting to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rise, my balls try and crawl up inside my body and my brain starts to fire out negative thoughts like a machine gun. As sweat starts to happen all over the body. It feels like your skin has another hot skin on the outside, like a bin bag, it moves over your body and never releases. The negative thoughts keep coming like waves on rocks. I start pacing or moving around irrationally. The arguments in my head get so fast and so disturbing that my brain shuts down my body. The sweat has completely covered my body and my heart feels like it's going to explode.

By Tayla Munro, September 22, 2014.

Authored by Megaboyz, here.


Every one who could run fled at once to Memphis to save his house, his possessions and those dear to him. Like a flock of doves scared by the scream of a hawk, like autumn leaves driven before the wind, the multitude dispersed.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, November 11, 2012.

Found in The Bride of the Nile, authored by Georg Ebers.


She strained her vocals but nothing came out, still she screamed, hoping someone would hear her. Suddenly, her body wracked with raw sobs and she shook like a leaf. Fright consumed every cell in her body, swelling them with terror. With every second she practically felt the rise of her blood pressure, but she knew that this was the least of her worries.

By Sahra Hassan, December 8, 2014.