Fear

The ridge was so narrow that he feared for his life every time he took a step forward. He feared that the thorny branches will tear up his skin when he walked forward. He feared that he will break the delicate glassware that were kept on the stools which lined the muddy path. And he slipped and fell into the abyss. He picked the thorns and saw blood dripping from his flesh. Red colour added to the mud when he stepped on the broken glass. He went for a mad rush. He feared that he will never reach the end of the path. He slipped again.