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writing_shadowsFight or flight.
Fight or flight: these are the instincts everyone supposedly has when they feel threatened.
What they don't tell you is sometimes, the idea of fighting is so absurd that that instinct never kicks in. You just take off running.
The idea of fighting is always absurd. Look at me. I'm not even a Damsel. I'm trying to be a Smart One, but is it working? Or am I just still the Extra who studies hard and gets eaten anyway? How will I know until I meet my doom?
I was sure I was going to meet my doom. I was running full pelt – too overwhelmed by the flight instinct to do anything smarter than that – from a dozen of those wild things, those "lobstrocities" as everyone else called them.
Then there was a door. I ran for it, barely registering the people between me and it until one of them pulled a gun.
He pulled a gun. Not on me, on Biff. And although the idea was absurd – was completely crazy – I began to yell at him. I began to fight.
I hit the deck (wouldn't you?), but of course she was shooting at the monsters.
He was a monster, picking on defenceless kids like us. I didn’t think about being defenceless then, though. I was protecting my motleymate. I was protecting my friend.
She was protecting me, a total stranger. The lot of them were. As much as I try to avoid needing other people these days...
I needed Biff. I needed him, and the Professor, and I would never let either of them be in danger if I could help it. Which I can't.
And yet, here I am.
Fight or flight: these are the instincts everyone supposedly has when they feel threatened.
What they don't tell you is sometimes, the idea of fighting is so absurd that that instinct never kicks in. You just take off running.
The idea of fighting is always absurd. Look at me. I'm not even a Damsel. I'm trying to be a Smart One, but is it working? Or am I just still the Extra who studies hard and gets eaten anyway? How will I know until I meet my doom?
I was sure I was going to meet my doom. I was running full pelt – too overwhelmed by the flight instinct to do anything smarter than that – from a dozen of those wild things, those "lobstrocities" as everyone else called them.
Then there was a door. I ran for it, barely registering the people between me and it until one of them pulled a gun.
He pulled a gun. Not on me, on Biff. And although the idea was absurd – was completely crazy – I began to yell at him. I began to fight.
I hit the deck (wouldn't you?), but of course she was shooting at the monsters.
He was a monster, picking on defenceless kids like us. I didn’t think about being defenceless then, though. I was protecting my motleymate. I was protecting my friend.
She was protecting me, a total stranger. The lot of them were. As much as I try to avoid needing other people these days...
I needed Biff. I needed him, and the Professor, and I would never let either of them be in danger if I could help it. Which I can't.
And yet, here I am.
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Date: 2011-08-30 11:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-30 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-30 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-30 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-30 12:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-30 12:02 pm (UTC)You'll "meet" Petra on Sunday - she's coming up to Inverness.
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Date: 2011-08-30 12:04 pm (UTC)