This challenge was to write a short piece, 250 words approx. on the theme “Fear”. This is my piece:
They say you never really know what it is to feel fear, until you’re stood looking it in the eye. As if the emotion of fear is in some way personal to the person feeling it.
So why, with a man laying barely alive on a table in front of me, his chest millimetres from a blade that I hold, do my hands shake with fear?
It matters not to my paymasters if he lives or dies, for he’s just another number, another statistic. So why am I fearing the outcome of a procedure I’ve performed a hundred times before. It’s not as if I knew the guy.
The man’s exposed stomach flesh offered no resistance to the tip of the scalpel, as I tried my hardest to slice a clean straight line along his chest. His blood oozed freely, spraying and covering my hands with his luke warm life force.
Beads of sweat formed dampening my brow, the occasional droplet tracing a line to fall with my eye, momentarily blurring my vision. The back of my hand did little to cease the inconvenience.
With the ribs exposed, I cracked them systematically, his body reacting violently to each break. A nervous glance to see if he would wake from his unconscious state, revealed each time that he was out cold. Unlike his heart, which pumped to a hypnotic rythmic beat.
It was a majestic living jewel, waiting to be extracted for a new host I’d never know nor see. All that was asked of me was to remove it alive. What was to become of its donor after removal was of little significance.
Some say you have to see the source of your fears so as to experience real fear. Well I never saw the threat of death that stood behind me, watching over my every move, and yet fear caressed my emotions as if it were a lover’s touch.