Writing journal

Assignment: Go www.fearof.net. List of the top 100 phobias. Scroll down page with eyes closed and then stop. You must write a story about the first fear that your eyes stop on.

Ligyrophobia – The fear of loud noises. More than the instinctive noise fear.

When Miss Grant left the morning teacher meeting, she was not pleased. She hated those fire drills. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it filled her with dread. Plus, she had planned a math test for that morning, which meant sitting in silence for two hours. She was really looking forward to that.

Now she would have to skip that, reschedule it, she'd be late with her classes... it was a whole thing. Of course, she understood how important those fire drills were, so she made sure her students were properly instructed and behaved responsibly. They were good kids. Of course, fifteen is a tough time for everyone and some of them could get a little... confrontational at times, but it wasn't even a decade ago she was in their shoes, and she still remembered those terrible teenage years.

They were one of her first cohorts and other teachers often joked that she will soon stop caring that much. They come and go, no point trying to build a relationship with them. They will forget you.

She sighed.

“Good morning class,” she greeted, trying to muster a cheerful mood.

”'morning” a couple of voices replied, while most students kept looking at their phones or chat.

“Today's test has been postponed.”

All heads perked up at the same time and the students started to cheer in a choir of “Whoo!” and “Thank you, miss!” She cherished the little happiness she managed to give those kids.

“Instead, we're going to go over the material you were supposed to study once more, who wants to come to the blackboard and solve an equation?”

The room immediately turned silent. She picked Laura to start and handed her a piece of chalk.

The minutes passed slowly, the fire drill looming over Miss Grant head. Her heart rate seemed to never slow down during that time, beads of sweat running down her spine in anticipation.

Finally, at 10:30, it happened. A loud noise broke the awkward silence the room was in while Marcus (bless him) was trying to figure out a relatively simple exercise. The students shared a look of surprise that quickly turn into understanding: that's why the test was cancelled!

The sound of the alarm started far and muffled, and quickly moved closer and closer, until it was right above them. And that's when it happened.

Miss Grant felt her shoulders getting tense and her heart rate sped up. She could feel the blood pumping in her ears. Her hands were clasping the edge of the desk. She saw her student looking at her expectantly, waiting for instruction. But she couldn't move.

“Miss Grant?” one of the girls called. She couldn't tell which one, the noise was too loud, her vision was getting fuzzy.

She felt her breath getting shallow, her throat closing around her words. The noise was piercing through her ear and her brain. She tried to speak, there were things she was supposed to tell the kids, but she couldn't remember, she couldn't find a way out of the blind terror that was grappling her.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her wrist, the room started moving, slowly at first, the steadily. She felt her legs giving in, but she didn't fall. Something warm held her head upright, sweaty palms pressing firmly.

The next thing she remembered was being offered a glass of water in the schoolyard.

“Miss Grant? Are you ok?”

“Give her some space, you dick!”

“I'm trying to help her!”

“Don't push me!”

“Stop it, guys!”

She was sitting now. Her body was still shaking, but the noise was gone. Her muscles were sore as if they had been contracted for a long time. She realised they had been.

“Thank you,” she breathed out, handing the glass back.

“She can talk!” someone whispered. It made her smile.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, “I don't know what happened.”

One of the boys – Kevin, she remembered – shyly explained: “I think you had a panic attack, Miss Grant.”

“Oh.” is all she managed to reply.

A tall, lanky man she recognised as Mr. Porter rushed to her. She instinctively stood up, finding that her body had found its strength again. She smoothed her skirt and quickly dabbed the side of her eyes to dry the tears that had been forming there.

“What happened, Miss Grant?”

She wasn't sure.

“There was a fire drill,” one of her student teased.

“I know that,” Mr. Porter replied.

“So we left our classroom,” another one said.

“In an orderly line. Left all our stuff there,” a third added.

“I had a panic attack, I'm so sorry,” Miss Grant finally said, eyes on the ground. “It's never happened before.”

“Oh,” he seemed taken aback. “I thought it was one of the students.”

“It was me,” she admitted, mortified.

“Well, the student behaved impeccably. They followed protocol and-”

“We behaved impeccably!” one of the students echoed and all the others cheered. Miss Grant finally smiled.

“Of course they did.” She said proudly.

“Let's take you to the nurse office,” he offered. She nodded, and as she left, she gave a grateful look to her student.

Before they had reached the entrance, a voice called: “Miss Grant?”

She stopped and turned.

“Do we still have a math test tomorrow?”

She took a moment to consider.

“Yep.”

“Nooooooooooo,” the whole cohort complained, but very softly, barely more than a whisper.

Miss Grant made a mental note to bring the kids a cake tomorrow.