by Stoney M. Setzer
mysophobia: a pathological fear of dirt or contamination
~*~
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider, Mr. Marak?” the voice on the telephone prodded. “You fit the profile of our research perfectly, and I can assure you that we will make it well worth your effort.”
“I’m quite sure you’d try, Mr. Toth,” Peter Marak answered, as he stared out the bay window of his house. He held a coffee mug in his other hand, and his grip on it tightened as his body involuntarily tensed. Surely they didn’t expect him to take the risk of going out there! With just a little bit of imagination, he could almost see the germs darting through the air beyond his house. “But I’m afraid there’s not much you could do to make me reconsider.”
Continue reading THE SIEGE OF PETER MARAK
by Milo James Fowler
You got me ringing hell’s bells. – AC/DC
~*~
Emaciated by time, the hollow-eyed wraith at the cash register drew on his smoldering cigarette and released a ragged cough.
“You play?” he croaked.
I glanced up from the book of guitar chords, a dog-eared paperback with coffee-stained pages, but at forty-nine cents a real pawn shop bargain. “Yeah.”
“Bored with the standard crap? Those open chords and whatnot?” He spewed smoke like a dragon in its final throes. “Looking for more advanced stuff, huh.”
“Something like that.”
Continue reading POWER CHORDS
by Jonathan Cullen
Stealing gets easier with practice. And lots and lots of time.
~*~
Peter Mason brushed the dust off his hands, propped his broom against the wall and walked down the fourth floor hallway of the hospital searching for a patient to steal a few hours from.
He nudged open the door to a semi-private room with a slight creak and looked inside. The lights had been off for hours and the two patients were asleep. Peter leaned back into the hallway, glanced up and down, then slid into the room.
Continue reading THEFT
by Clay Waters
Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.
~*~
May as well be in retrograde orbit around Venus, Mickey thought, sitting in a neo-backache chair in the law office of Fortnam and Concini as another weatherless day in Burbank drifted outside the window. The drone of regulated air felt soothing yet also necessary, as if they inhabited a geodesic space station for the sweatless affluent.
Bringing the kid had been a mistake; Concini remained unmelted. The lawyer looked at the young girl, swallowed up in the deep leather sofa, clutching her ugly-ass doll, and said “Couldn’t get a baby sitter?”
Continue reading ANGELS UNAWARES
by Kevin R. Doyle
Guilt can be a powerful temptation as well.
~*~
Father Robert stood in the cubicle and looked over the interior of his church. This late at night, only a few people resided in the pews. One woman, dressed in black, had just lit a candle. Robert knew she still mourned the death of her youngest child a year before. Farther back an elderly couple, two of the regulars of his parish, knelt together and prayed, so close their shoulders touched.
And another figure. It sat in the pew farthest back, next to the church doors. In the dim electric lights, it seemed more of a shape than a substance. Father Robert watched it for several minutes. It didn’t move, neither standing nor kneeling and, as far as the priest could tell through the darkness, not even praying. It merely sat there, straight in the pew, and looked ahead.
Continue reading THE TEMPTER IN THE SHADOWS
by James Rawbone
To forgive, not forget.
~*~
Last year’s leaves were a brittle carpet underfoot as he strode through the woods. A small casket was tucked under one arm; his free hand grasped a spade. His shoulders were hunched under the black leather of his trench coat, and he glanced to neither side.
Every so often he stopped to listen, but the trees were wrapped in a dead silence. Nothing moved; no birds called, there was not the snuffle of hedgehogs or the sudden scamper of rabbits. The woods lay sleeping this short February afternoon as if the cold had frozen the life within it. The pale sun was already casting long, weak shadows as the man looked up to the grey sky and shivered.
Continue reading BURYING THE PAST
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Welcome to F&T! Fear & Trembling features horror and suspense with a spiritual twist. Now, not every story will have a spiritual element, but you'll find here intelligent fiction that touches on eternal themes. On the other hand, sometimes you'll come across some good old fashioned, frightfully pulpy fun. Either way, we hope you enjoy each of these stories that just won't die.
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