Post updated from last year on the last night I spent with my mother in 1996 before she passed away from cancer. The daily prompt, at that time, was to write about what you fear the most.
This post is dedicated to my mother and to all the people who have suffered a loss from cancer and those suffering the horrible ailment.
So much love and blessings to you all.
You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
The door is ragged with a worn out knob. A knob that will not let me escape – no matter how bad I want to leave. I don’t want to face what’s behind me. I don’t want to turn around.
God, I don’t want to turn around to see what I fear the most.
You would think it’s a clown or a spider. No, those things aren’t what frighten me. I don’t like them but this is much worse than that.
I hear the sounds. Gasping for breath, stifled moans. They send cold shivers down my spine and I turn the golden device frantically to open the door but it won’t open.
The room is dark save one single lamp.
I know what the room looks like inside my head and I don’t even have to look to…
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