Anchors

Fear

I stared at it. 2 metres tall and 1 metre wide. It was a spread of caramel brown with dark brown curves and lines sprinkled on it - in a random, yet, recurring pattern. A door made of light mahogany wood. It was pleasing to the eyes. I used to trace out its ceaseless contours whenever I felt bored. Which was, pretty much, every other hour for me. Right in the centre of its far right is a metal handle. Shiny and smooth, it was almost like a mirror. I used to check my face in it when I trace out the lines.

Take a step forward.

Lift your right hand.

Reach for the door handle.

Grab it tight.

And, never, never let your hand drop.

So far, it has been easy. It's just like solving a math problem. You just have to do it step by step. Easy, right? Well, yeah, I think it is. But, just like in every math problem, there is that step we are stuck at. The one where you can't think of anything else to do, no matter how much you stare at it or convince yourself that it is easy. I'm there now. The final step. I'll try my very best.

Com'on, Riley, this is easy.

The final step.

Twist the handle.

And, pull it open.

Oh, and, try not to close your eyes.

I start twisting the door. Half a twist and my eyelids instinctually embrace my eyes.

I told you not to close your eyes!

I twist the door fully, just as my eye muscles decided to contract hard. Not only was I closing my eyes, but I was squeezing them now.

Okay, forget the closed eyes! Now, open the door!

I breathe in a huge volume of air, as though the air that entered my lungs brought in courage with it. Feeling the slightest bit of bravery, I open the door a little. How much would I have opened? A centimetre? An inch? I exhale and I realise that my scant courage is taken away with the breath.

Take another breath, then! And, remember to take in as much as you can this time!

I breathe in so much air that I feel like my lungs are going to explode. And, with the commensurable amount of courage, I hurl my hand towards my back. The door flings open.

A wave of fresh air hits me.

It carries so many different scents and sounds of life with it; Of the terrible, ugly life on Earth. I can smell the stench of dead flowers. I can hear the angry barks of a dog. I can feel the influx of dirt from the soil. Oh, why did I ever choose to leave my safe burrow? Why did I choose to come back to this scary world?

I take a very calculated and careful step forward. A long and dark alley was visible.

No backing away now! Keep moving!

I move on. One after another.

Several steps down, I catch a glimpse of another movement. I instantly move back. What was that? Was that a person? How will they treat me? Will they be cold and harsh? Isn't everyone like that?

I wait. 1 minute. 2 minutes. 3 minutes.

You should move forward. Don't be scared. You have to do this.

I take another step forward and my hands automatically stretch out towards the person as though I'm trying to stop the other person from attacking me, while I squeeze my eyes again. No hit! No one touched me! No one spoke. I opened my eyes slowly. I saw someone standing in front of me with her hands reached out. She looked as frightened of me as I am of her. I straighten up. I think I recognise that face.