I walked across the cold, white slate.  My nervous twitches provided the only sign of life and movement in the completely silent room.  I was scared, and could sense something was wrong.  In fact, I was petrified, so scared I was, at this particular time that my thoughts were nothing but of fear, a dark fear.  Not a fear of something good happening, or the anxious anticipation of a fine event, but a bad fear, a terrible fear.  I was anticipating something bad, which in most cases can be the most terrible fear of all.  Not knowing exactly what will happen, but knowing that it will be something bad drives people crazy, even to the point of insanity, and suicidal urges and I was no different.  I moved slowly forward and back, tentatively sniffing and scanning the area for any signs of cover or safety.  There wasn’t any.  I was completely vulnerable, an unwelcome thought for a thing like me.  Noises began; loud, high pitched noises from the white walls that surrounded me and let out an engulfing shroud of hard and sinful tasting gas.  This struck a different kind of fear into my riveted senses.  Suddenly, my fears changed.  It was no longer of what will happen, but a more intense, more numbing, debilitating type of fear that just hits you.  It hits you like a blow to the stomach when your emotions and feelings couldn’t be more tranquil, leaving you stunned and unable to comprehend.  Like a drunken blur surrounds you, and for split seconds you are violently thrown out of reality.  The recall hits you like a tonne of bricks stinging hard against every nerve in your body and then, instead of being unable to comprehend, your senses are stimulated like a surprise rush of adrenalin floods your veins and you are wrenched back into reality overly aware of every detail of your surroundings.  I lay frozen as the high pitched hissing noise continued, torturing my extremely sensitive hearing, as if a hole was being burnt through my usually simple and humble mind.  Then, slowly, the pain began to decrease.  Slowly, the terrible hissing began to subside and the sharp concentration brought on by fear began to be sucked away.  The fear remained steady though, in my uneasy heartbeats.  Dogging and stinging every beat like it had taken control of my small body.  My throat became hoarse from nerves and my thoughts clouded.  It was then, when my thoughts were clouded that my heartbeat, usually fast paced and ready, slowly, very slowly, began to slow down.  The air became thin and breathing became more difficult compressing my chest causing me to splutter and squeak all over the floor making a terrible mess.  My unbelievable speed and usual quickness that I loved and gloated happily so much about left me, leaving me like a free bird that had been freshly caged.  I was reduced to an uneven and unbalanced stand as I fought desperately against the overcoming and sickly gas that urged me, swaying my mind to fall into an everlasting sleep.  My small pink feet began shaking, and my fury head drooped lower and lower as my co-ordination failed to keep me upright.  I was completely overcome as my usually unbreakable grip on reality was sadly and unnecessarily levered away and my now weak and feeble limbs flopped into an uncoordinated summersault.  Laughter rang out through a long tinted window above as humans with long white cloaks and notepads stared down at my carcass chuckling at the amusing way my last sense of ego and character was relentlessly crushed by the humiliating way in which I had died.  My simple and usually happy life flashed before my eyes as I lay there, on the slate, unable to move, just thinking, feeling and wondering.  Surprisingly, as my small, humble and innocent black eyes stared up upon my murderers, I was no longer fearful, but sad.  I write this story from a far off place of peace and equanimity looking down upon my fellow fury friends.  I no longer feel fearful, but sad.