She bowed her head and prayed. The horror of gunfire was ringing in her head. She ran when she first heard it and now she seems frozen to this spot. It wasn’t a good place to hide but her feet wouldn’t move and her legs were shaking, feeling like jelly.
The shots kept sounding. “Oh, God, help us!” Why aren’t the police coming yet, the firemen, someone to save us! If her dad was here, he would come. He would bring that old shotgun of grampa’s and protect her. He had always protected her, until he couldn’t save himself.
Two students ran by in a panic. They tried to grab her, but she wouldn’t move. Something was holding her to this spot. “Come on! We’re going to the car and getting help! Come on!” She wanted to join them, but was too terrified to move.
Suddenly a man came close and put his arms around her. She saw him, but couldn’t really feel him. She tried to lift her head. Again she was unable to move.
The young man came running out, holding a rifle with both hands. He glanced around looking for another victim. He passed her by and ran into the street. It was if he didn’t see her at all! He fell to his knees and the police came out of nowhere and knocked him on the ground. The crisis was over, for her.
She lifted her head and unclasped her hands. She was so grateful to this stranger who saved her. She no longer saw or felt any presence. He was gone. She could no longer stand, and the weight of what happened made her slump to the ground. She looked everywhere and the man wasn’t there.