you are nervous- school project

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you are nervous- school project

Postby julean » November 11th, 2017, 6:46:49 pm

had this as a project a few months ago so ig i should share it


You Are Nervous

Your name is Axel. You are blind. And now, you are going to the police station. You are nervous.
Why are you nervous, you ask? Because, simply, you are absolutely terrified of dogs, big and small. This is because of the singular fact that you lost your vision to them, two months prior to the long drive that you are taking to the police station in the winter of a year that nobody cares about.

You are breathing heavily as you, in the backseat of your father’s car, are being driven towards the police station. You can hear your heart pounding as you press your ear against the window. You can almost hear the thump, the steady beat of your racing AV node* in your head, the canals that openly welcomed the world’s noise, now mostly congested by smooth glass bumping against your right temple. Your heart’s beat was slightly muffled by the outside sound of air rushing past the car on the highway...
Suddenly, you feel the car come to a slow. You stop breathing, holding in the air. The ride has gone by so quickly- nervousness could take a toll on the time. The car makes a turn, your ears taking in the familiar sound of police sirens, like a cat taking in the scent of prey. You cannot see the police station, but have dull memories of passing the white brick building before the vicious animals that you had once loved robbed you of your vision; you cannot recall anything about the building besides its color, however non distinguished it was. The building wasn’t one to linger in a person’s mind, so you couldn’t be blamed. The thought of that day was all just an ebony haze, you struggled to paint a picture of the station in your mind.
You feel the car pull in and come to a stop in what must be a parking space. Your senses are tingling as you try to identify what you can.. You hear the ignition become silent now, and the jingling of keys as your father begins to leave the car. You sit up straight when you hear the front, driver’s-side door open. Your passenger-side door opens shortly after. Your buckle snaps and you feel the warmth of your father’s body looming over you. He lifts you up, carrying you and cradling you close.
He lets you down, grabbing your hand and leads you to the edifice like you were the sheep and he was the shepherd.. It only takes a moment for the door to open, and your father to seat you comfortably in a soft, cushioned chair in what feels like the Arctic itself. You don’t understand what people get out of cold air. It gives you chills.
Your ears detect conversation.. You can’t help but to eavesdrop.
The familiar voice of your father, the young male voice escaping his throat, are the sounds that you take in first.
“Evening, ma’am.. I’m looking for- erm,” Your father pauses. You hear him begin digging through his pockets by the sounds of plastic wrappers and metal and bits of papers all brushing against each other in a loud jumble of noises. He takes out a paper - you can identify this by the crumple it makes- and unrolls it.
“O-officer.. White. #47? We have an.. Appointment,” Your father speaks.
An unfamiliar voice, smooth as silk, from a woman responds. You can only make the assumption that this woman is the receptionist, but you really don’t know. Identification of people, places, and things that you can’t see is not yet something you’ve grown to be skillful at. Yet, you’ve told yourself to persevere many times. Many more than you might easily count.
“Of course, sir!” You could tell that her words are thought out. Her voice - confident and chipper - reminds you of your mother, who you haven’t seen in four years.
You hear an inaudible whisper into what could have been a handheld radio, a walkie-talkie in layman’s terms. You don’t hear the reply.
After a split second, you hear a door open. Your head twists to try and take in the sound more prominently.
“Officer White,” The deep voice of the man introduced. You shake your head, staring away from the direction of the officer in defiance. Chances are, he isn’t even looking at you, not with the slightest concern, but you tried to make a powerful first impression for yourself anyways. You most truly, most certainly don’t want to be here. The boiling anger you feel as if you your shoes would melt off.
“Yes,” You hear the calm and collected voice of your father. This comforts you. “I’m Azul Burgundy, Axel’s father?” The jingling of his bracelets let you know the two had shaken hands.
“Oh! So, you must be here for the service dog, am I correct?” the officer rasps. You lean back in your seat and feel your heart practically stop. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you grasp the armrests with all the might your nimble body had.
You hear your father inhale deeply. “Yessir.”
The officer chuckles, low and booming. “Well, come on, then! I can take you to the back right away.”
Your father’s shoes are tap the ground as he walks over. You smile to him, but you know he can see the tears welling up on your waterline. Your eyes are misty. His arms wrap around you in a warm hug, attempting to lift you up. “It’s okay, Axel. The dogs are trained. I won’t let them hurt you, I promise. Won’t you trust me?”
You are still petrified as you are lifted in your father’s arms and carried to a back room. You hear the door close behind you and you are sat down again, the scent of autumn filling your nostrils. The room smells nice, but you are not as comfortable as you would be if your eyes could take in the surroundings.
You hear indiscernible chatter somewhere near you. Next thing you know, the smell of dog fills the room, fouling the scent. You hear the sound of paws padding over the wood and claws scratching against the planking that made up the floor as the leashed dog makes its way toward you .
You jump out of your seat, climbing to the top of the back of the chair and hold onto to wall for dear life. If the wall felt pain, it would more than likely hurt with your grip.
“Now, Axel,” you hear your father begin, quietly and softly. “It’s alright, darling. The dog is on a leash..”
His voice and general presence coax you. You hear him coo to you in a whisper as his arms wrap around your body, the warmth guiding you down gently from the hard, wooden chair-back, right down to the cushioning you’d been at not long before.. He says something to the officer, but you just don’t catch it. The sound of paws and claws rhythmically hitting the ground enters your ears once more.
You can hear the dog panting as it is sat in front of you.
You choke.
Your father continues to coax you. He slowly lets his careful hand glide down your arm before interlocking with your own, bringing your’s forward until you feel the heat radiating off of the dog’s body.
You begin to pull away from your father, but the grip is too tight, almost extreme. With every tug it tightens like a boa constrictor was wrapping around your arm. Your wrist begins to burn as skin rubbed against skin, all tugging and turning, so you make the wise decision of relaxing the best you could.
Your hand is brought back forward to the dog, feeling the soft fur comfortably tangle between your fingers. Your father then takes your other hand and does the same, allowing both of your small hands to rest in the large dog’s pillowy fur. You don’t feel as threatened by the dog anymore.. It hasn’t growled or attacked you. You can feel a mutual bond coming on.
“What kind of dog is it?” You ask the officer.
“She’s a Goldador,” Officer White, #47, replies.
“Oh. What’s her name?” You ask the officer another question shortly after he had answered the first question.
“Her name is Prim,” The officer answers once more.
You smile and nod. The dog hasn’t hurt you. You begin to remember how you once had a dog named Jersey.. He had passed away a few years ago. You remember how much you loved the dog; you don’t think you can hold much of a grudge or fear against dogs anymore.

You sit in the backseat of your father’s car, hearing the door next to you slam shut. Your dog, Prim, is in a crate right next to you. You are no longer afraid of her, and you don’t think you ever can be.
The front door closes as your father slips into the car. The sound of a buckling seat belt let you know you were going to leave soon. You did like the smell of your father’s cologne as it flooded the car, but the scent of dog fought against it.
You grab onto the rough surface of the seat in front of you, holding tightly. The sound of the engine turning over was more than familiar and the smell of gasoline was stinging your nose as your father began to drive away.
And, somehow, you feel happy. An odd sensation to be sat next to.. A dog.


*AV node : The part of your heart that is responsible for beating.
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julean
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Re: you are nervous- school project

Postby Deumos » November 26th, 2017, 4:13:49 pm

That was a nice read :)
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