Dahlia was sat on her grandmother's well kept white wash front porch. Which was clad with the most beautiful flowers that anyone had ever laid eyes upon, something that was known to the whole neighbourhood.
They were chortling away at all of the things they used to be scared of, her 'Nonna' whom was terrified of butterflies, and would almost always break down into tears as soon as she saw a flutter of delicate wings until she was 30. Dahlia, who was scared of closing doors as a child. Why? No one knows, not even Dahlia herself.
"It's hilarious looking back, looking at all of the silly things I was scared of," Dahlia scoffed, "Closing doors, I mean seriously?"
Her Nonna leaned back in the slightly dated wicker chairs that had been around for almost 2 generations and smiled, "Those were the days, the days when you were little and that was all to be scared of. When you grow up, everything becomes more serious and a little more intense."
Dahlia took a sip of her grandma's homemade lemonade through a pink and white striped straw, "I'm not completely grown up and for me, personally, nothing is getting more scary." She replied to her beloved Nonna.
"Sweet, just you wait." Her nan lightly laughed.
"I'm not afraid of anything." Dahlia chuckled nonchalantly.
She wasn't scared of anything, until she encountered the most horrifying thing possible.
YOU ARE READING
Lungs
General Fiction"I'm not afraid of anything." She chuckled nonchalantly. She wasn't scared of anything, until she encountered the most horrifying thing possible.
