A distinct memory of Fear

It happened around a year ago. It was the beginning of summer. A friend and I were out jogging at dusk. We'd gone some ways from our campus and it had become, as is typical of Ithaca, quite rural. We crossed an open field with wild grass and after a short stretch of trees neared a small stream. We stopped there to rest. I was enjoying the tranquil sounds of nature and the increased blood-flow. We were at ease, joking with each other as is usual among friends.

This is when it happened. A beast broke out of the dark woods and ran directly at me. It was swift, powerful and not un-menacing. I went dead paralyzed. It was a first for me. It was a strange feeling. The body automatically took over, became immovable. The mind almost stopped thinking but was at full alert. I felt the surge of blood in the background. It lasted for all of five seconds maybe. Like a trailer of some wildlife documentary. After coming to few meters of us at the same swift speed, it veered away jumpily to the stream, drank some water and ran back to its master coming out of the woods.

It did not leap or attack, did not grow in size or breathe fire. It did not tear us to bits. It did not do any of the many possible or impossible things that fear tells us in leisure.

On our way back, we were behind them by about two hundred meters. On my friend's advice, we walked so as not to provoke the animal. Once out of the field and on to the paved road, we jogged lazily back to town.