rikki chan stocksnap.jpg

This has been a wonderful walk.

I love being out in the fresh air, leaves changing colour, breeze dancing through the trees. But now I’ve come to the end. Well, it’s not the end. I could continue on…but I can’t.

I’m at the corner, you see. I’m stuck.

The cars are whizzing by. I thought there was supposed to be a crossing guard here. Where is she? I can’t move. I’m not going anywhere. But I can’t stay here all day, either.

The light changes from red to green. The cars have stopped. They’re waiting behind the white line. They’re waiting for me…to move. But I won’t.

What if one of them starts to roll forward? Cars do that you know. Maybe that driver doesn’t have their breaks serviced often. How am I supposed to know how good they are? Or what about that guy in the sports car, his engine revving and music blaring? He looks like he’s in an awful hurry. His car is idling fast. It’s ready to burn rubber. He keeps edging forward. That’s not good at all.

A friend of mine got hit by a car, once. She survived but it was terrifying for her. She was pretty banged up. She was just slowly walking across the street. I’m not taking any chances. I’m fine right here.

The light is red again, for me. They all fly by in a blur. That’s fine. I’ll just wait.

Oh, here comes the crossing guard. I guess she was taking a break. She’s friendly. I like her smile. She just blew her whistle and pressed the button. She’s nodding at me to go. She’s standing in the middle of the street now holding up her sign with one hand, and waving me by with the other.

I keep smiling. Her eyes are urging me on.

I wave. She looks confused.

I turn around. And walk back the way I came.

Paula Antonello Mooore, fiction prose. Copyright: Wednesday, October 12, 2016.

Writing Challenge: “Describe an experience from the point of view of someone who is phobic about that very experience. For example, an airplane flight taken by someone terrified of flying, an agoraphobic lost in a pasture, an arachibutyrophobic eating a sandwich.” 642 Things to Write About but the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.

Image: Street puddle by Rikki Chan from Stock Snap.