What is there to be scared of?

Every little noise I hear has me peering out of the window. 

Cowards die many times before their death

The valiant never taste of death but once

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard

It seems to me most strange that men should fear

Seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.

Mmmmmm.  Tell that to my imagination…

I had been staying with friends since the break in, as my imagination is working overtime.  I am not valiant.  When push comes to shove, I think I am a coward.

On Tuesday night, the man of the house in which I was staying went out to walk the dog like he does every night at 6pm when he is home.  But this time he did not come back.  My good friend, his wife, set out to look for him in the wet, stormy dark.  She found his car and the dog.  There was no immediate sign of him. 

She continued her search.  I was praying for a broken ankle.  Or something like that.  Not far from the car, she found him.  He had been struck by lightening.   He did not survive.

She is in shock.  I think I am too.

Advertisement