Fear and Trembling

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

EVERYONE HAS HOLES

Lyn Perry — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 11:00:31 +0000

by Eric Ortlund

Everyone has holes, but not everyone stares.

~*~

The day Christina talked to me in front of everyone, I was walking down the long driveway to our school with Jill, like I always did. We made sure not to look at anyone else and cracked quiet jokes with each other to get ready for the day. From far away, I could see a dirty pile of rags beneath the Hillsdale High School sign, but I didn’t think anything of it.

When we walked by the Homecoming banner, I looked at my shoes, . . . → Read More: EVERYONE HAS HOLES

THE WELL-BELOVED

Lyn Perry — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 10:00:23 +0000

by Barrie Darke

Didn’t a wise person once say, “You know not what you ask?”

~*~

Mr. Maitland was looking at his reflection in a small hand mirror he kept in his desk drawer. It was his wife’s, he supposed, though how it came to be there he couldn’t remember now. He hadn’t taken it all the way out of the drawer, and was leaning over slightly to see, because he knew it was probably a misstep to be doing this.

As for his reflection, it was what it was, as he heard some of . . . → Read More: THE WELL-BELOVED