Jesse

Every detail right.

The Appalachian vowels, the softness, the slight waver that age had put into her speech.

It was Mama's voice coming from the front porch, and Mama was in her bedroom twenty feet behind me.

Brooke, honey, come out here and help me.

I fell on the steps.

I pressed my hand over my mouth.

I was shaking.

My whole body was vibrating the way captains had been vibrating the night before.

The fear was enormous, physical, a weight on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

then i remembered what mama had said about fear that it moved toward fear that fear was food i took my hand off my mouth i took a breath i forced my hands flat on my knees i pressed them down hard until the shaking was in my arms instead of my hands and i got angry

I got angry because this thing was tormenting an 81-year-old woman who'd never done anything to anyone.

It was standing on her porch using her voice.

It was killing her chickens.

It was taking the one place in the world where she felt safe and making it unsafe.

and it had been doing it for two weeks.

I stood up.

I walked to the front door.

I put my face close to the door, close to the wood, close enough that if whatever was on the other side could hear breathing, it would hear mine.

I said, get off this porch.

I didn't yell.