Gemotions

The falling tree, a behemoth, was only a physical manifestation of what he feared the most. The sound of it splitting across the yard was just a confirmation of the impending doom. His breath hitched as he watched from his window, the image seared into his eyes.

He’d locked the doors, drawn the curtains, created a fortress of solitude, but even this refuge offered no true safety. He heard the incessant buzzing of his phone, messages from friends. He ignored them. The world outside, the world of the fallen tree, the world that was once vibrant, held a terror he couldn't face.

He needed to be alone. He needed to be silent. He had to be still. His hands were clasped in a desperate, silent prayer for the onslaught to end.