Fateful Disaster

For a single perfect moment, time stops. The mind kicks into overdrive, and the situations becomes perfectly clear. The massive jigsaw puzzle of life suddenly fades, and is replaced by a single threat. The mind does not consider who to invite to dinner, or when the next deadline is; this is far more primal and raw. The terrible specter of pain, injury, death has broken all plans for the future. There is only now, and the next moment.

Now, the mind does not consider the list of events that lead to this place; it only begs to live another second. It plots and schemes. Desperate to cheat this fate, either by skill, or preparation, or just blind luck. The mind races as the milliseconds pass. It ransacks its own memories for a solution, and relies on any deeply engrained habits or training. Elegance does not matter, only results. The results must leave the body alive. Some minds will panic in a blubbering realization that they are wholly unprepared for this moment in time, and that they will die here. For without the body, there can be no mind.

An idea arrives - a possible salvation. The mind quickens the body, and does not consider it’s effects. The stress, jittery muscles, and increased breathing do not matter. Blood flows to the muscles in a faint hope to not bleed-out later.

The mind will be scarred by these actions tomorrow, for today it must live.