Fear and Trembling

SOUL THIEF

Lyn Perry — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 13:00:06 +0000

by Jeff Chapman

You’ve heard it said, “Don’t give up the ghost?”

~*~

“Hey, Jimmy. Are you coming?”

“James,” he muttered. “My name is James.”

His sister Alicia stood in the doorway to his bedroom, slapping her red wool gloves into her palm.

“No thanks.” The Facebook game spread across his monitor flickered at him. “Scout or attack?” it asked, awaiting his command.

“Dad and Mom are going to be pissed. Did you even get dressed today?”

James shrugged.

Alicia sniffed twice, exaggerating. “This place stinks. Did you leave a moldy sandwich up here? I feel sorry for Tiger.”

“I haven’t . . . → Read More: SOUL THIEF

LOCKS

Lyn Perry — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 12:30:59 +0000

by Kristi DeMeester

Dreams…or nightmares…can seem so real sometimes.

~*~The dream woke me at 2 a.m. I looked at the window, hoped for the first gray streaks of morning, but there were none. Only the dark sound of your snores, the wheezing sound of the air conditioner.

I won’t call it a nightmare because it wasn’t fashioned in the way of typical nightmares. There were no monsters, no killers chasing after me, while I – with heavy legs – found it impossible to move. On waking our bedroom felt alien. The walls pushed against . . . → Read More: LOCKS

SANCTUARY

Lyn Perry — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 12:00:51 +0000

by Pauline Creeden

Survival means making hard choices. Just ask Jennie.

~*~Jennie pressed her cheek against the scuffed white tiles that smelled of shoes and mud. She could feel grains of sand as dirt stuck to her face, but she needed to reach under the store shelving unit to get the last can. Her fingers touched the lip of the dented can and caused it to roll away. Jennie took a deep breath and barely stopped the curse that surfaced. The old Jennie might have let the curse slide, like any other high . . . → Read More: SANCTUARY

HIS SPLINTERY SMILE

Lyn Perry — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 12:30:39 +0000

by Christian A. Larsen

And you thought ventriloquist dummies were dummies.

~*~

It was awful dark in there, that steamer trunk. Willie’d been locked inside for so long, he could almost smell the yellow coming off the crinkled newspaper wads that held him in place. If he could smell. But he couldn’t. Not really. Not when there wasn’t a drunk or a kid or someone’s cracked old grandmother to terrorize, because when they exhaled that fear, brother, it was like giving old Willie mouth-to-mouth, seeping from those rabbit-quick heartbeats into his body, all the . . . → Read More: HIS SPLINTERY SMILE

BRIGHTMOOR CONFESSIONS

Lyn Perry — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 12:15:14 +0000

by Greg Rhodea

A confession isn’t a confession unless one repents.

~*~

“Bless me, Father, for I have skinned.”

Loren frowned and leaned closer to the mesh that separated confessor from penitent. He’d been at it for three extra hours now because Father Tim hadn’t shown up. Night had fallen, and the church outside the confessional was as gloomy as a closed mouth. This would be the last confession of the night, and Loren was tired and eager to get out of the ghetto and back home. He must have heard the man wrong. Yes, . . . → Read More: BRIGHTMOOR CONFESSIONS

MY DEMON LOVER MEETS MY CAT

Lyn Perry — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 12:00:53 +0000

by T. K. Kenyon

Cats may have nine lives. Demon Lovers not so much.

~*~

I met my demon lover In a bar down by the docks. It was late at night, but I felt no fright Of his ivory skin and raven locks.

We danced and drank and sang old songs I drowned in his black eyes. He was brooding, dark, and demon-marked Not at all like high school guys.

Oh, cold-fleshed vampires warm my soul. Their long lives are so sad. They brood and mourn, with conflict torn ’Tween their natures good and bad.

He said he’d come next dusk to . . . → Read More: MY DEMON LOVER MEETS MY CAT