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    Practice – (Chapter: I’ve Got It Confused)

    "What about Dianne?" "What about her?" She asks confused. "Didn’t you come with her? "She shakes her head in the negative. "No, we met up when we got here.""Don’t you think you should-" She steps forward whispering into my ear seductively. "Right now, it’s all about you."

     

     

     

    Fear.

     

     

    There are two kinds of fear. It’s simple, there’s the good kind. The kind you get when you’re experiencing something or someone new and you don’t know what’s going to happen. The bad kind when you know you its gone too far, when it’s past the point of fun and to the point of suffering.

     

     

     

    That raw indescribable feeling you can’t control. I’ve felt it, we’ve all felt it. It comes in stages, increasing with age. The older you get the worse it becomes, the seriousness of the situations increase, along with the beat of your heart.

     

     

     

    When you’re young, the simplest things put that fear in you.

     

     

     

    You know, when your six years old, and you sneak down those steps, into the kitchen. You move that chair, the one that towers over you.

     

     

     

    You push it across the tile floor, as silently as possible, trying your best to be undetected. You pull it, slowly. Dragging it until you reach the edge of the countertop.

     

     

     

    You wait a moment, making sure no one has been alerted of your late night activities. When you’re sure no one has even the slightest clue that you’re up, roaming around the kitchen in search of those freshly baked cookies, you climb up onto the chair.

     

     

     

    Again you stop; your six years old, but you know the seriousness of the situation. Being caught sneaking cookies at one o’clock in the morning would mean no cookies, not for a week. And that, that would just be unacceptable.

     

     

     

    You decide its okay to move on with your task, you reach your hand into that jar, as your small fingers move around for a few moments. You run them across every cookie; you have to be sure you get the best one.

     

     

     

    A few moments go by until you feel it, the one. The cookie that’s going to make your night so much better. You step off of the chair, quietly moving back across the kitchen and to its rightful spot.

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    Comments

    1. An intruiging story, very well written. I have not read you other chapters, but the take is quite interesting. This chapter felt more like something I’d read in a book than something I’d find on a Fan Fiction site. Extremely good job.

    2. An intruiging story, very well written. I have not read you other chapters, but the take is quite interesting. This chapter felt more like something I’d read in a book than something I’d find on a Fan Fiction site. Extremely good job.

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