Vaccine

[Robert Crisman]

My mother leered like a bas-relief Gorgon; why then did L'amea gasp, stumble, fall?

The others, weakened themselves, struggled to bring her back to her feet; I fell against rock, half-leeched to a state of indifference, much like a junkie holding up buildings downtown, sliding past hope of surcease...

Danee snarled and slapped me, once, twice, three times; L'amea, recovered, spoke to me softly of deviled despair.

I blinked awake, wept at the thought of life's waste.

The smell of death stayed.

Another inoculation of fear, but now, seen as such, just one more vaccine to make the heart stronger.

[Angela]

The way fear makes the narrator almost swoon is interesting.  I associate fear with nervousness and sweat, but it really is the root of despair.  Thanks for making me think of it a little differently.  Fine work.