Thirty Minutes To Fear

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Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:07

The evening air is soft, wrapping around me like a quiet secret as I sit on my front porch, a glass of wine resting in my hand. The world feels still. Neighbors tucked inside the street calm, the sky dimming into that deep blue that only comes right before night fully settles in. I take a slow sip, letting it linger, then reach for the tincture, followed by the edible just enough to take the edge off, I tell myself. Time stretches. About thirty minutes later everything feels lighter, my shoulders drop, my thoughts slow. The hum of the evening turns into something distant almost dreamlike. The porch beneath me feels softer, like it's gently holding me. My eyelids grow heavy, and before I can realize it, I drift. And then I'm not on the front porch anymore. I'm standing in my neighborhood, but something is wrong. The air feels thick, too quiet, too still. My chest tightens as I look down the street, and that's when I see it. A massive crocodile not just big, impossibly big. Its body drags across the pavement, scales scraping against concrete with a sound that makes my skin crawl. Its eyes lock onto something someone and before I can even process it, it lunges. Chaos erupts, people scream, scatter. I watch, frozen as it snaps its jaws with terrifying force, shredding everything in its path. My heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it might break through my chest. And then it sees me. That's when my body finally moves. I run barefoot, breath ragged, legs pumping as fast as they can carry me. I don't even look back at first. I just know it's behind me. I can hear it, the heavy dragging, the sudden burst of speed, the low guttural sound that doesn't even feel real.

SPEAKER_00 4:20

I risk a glance. It's closer. Too close.

SPEAKER_01 4:28

Panic surges through me. Sharp and electric. My neighborhood feels unfamiliar now. Stretched, warped like I'll never reach safety.

SPEAKER_00 4:48

But then I see it my house, my porch.

SPEAKER_01 4:58

I push harder, lungs burning, legs screaming until I finally make it up the steps, stumbling onto the porch just as the crocodile lunges forward, but stops.

SPEAKER_00 5:22

It can't come up. It's too big.

SPEAKER_01 5:30

It thrashes below me, jaw snapping, tail whipping violently against the ground. The force of it shakes everything. I press myself against the door, shaking, watching, waiting for it to somehow find a way up.

SPEAKER_00 5:59

But it doesn't. It just stares.

SPEAKER_01 6:05

And then I wake up, my eyes snap open, heart racing, breath uneven. I'm on my porch, exactly where I was, the wine glass still sitting beside me, the night air still soft, the neighborhood still quiet, like nothing ever happened. But my chest is still tight, my skin still tingling, and for a moment just a moment I glance toward the steps, half expecting to see something waiting just below.

SPEAKER_00 7:10

There's nothing there.

SPEAKER_01 7:14

Just silence and the faint realization that I never left that porch at all.