Stories tagged fear

The Nightly Dance

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The electricity animates my body into myclonic dance. I do not rest. I dance with the demons; I dance with Nijinsky rage. I dance with the fury of Saint Vitus and his wooden cross. My shoes are fashioned with my own fear, tanned and stretched over my feet

Music That Tastes Like Blood

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It is your music that makes me want to crack open my ribcage and rip out my heart as it still beats, to cauterize my carotids, and shove the mechanical insides of a clock into my thoracic cavity.

Night Terror: Apocalypse

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In wave after wave, everything known and familiar disappears under the onslaught of water....

Le Petit Clown - August 9, 2002

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Bald on top and wavy curls projecting from both sides. He looked at me and his eyes rolled round and round in opposite directions. He asked, "What did you think of the play, clown hater?"

The old man in the window is probably scarier than he looks.

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It loomed -- unavoidable.

At the ministry

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the longer they make you wait, the more you fall for the poetry of power

After He Stays

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When the sex that is new and promising in its awkward moments is over, you turn to him. You expect that he’s figuring out a way to leave; the parts of you that know wait for him to stand up and put his clothes back on, quicker and with more eagerness than

Rhino

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He wanted to say the waves were colossal, but part of him didn’t want to scare them. He liked them being brave. He liked them being fearless.

Earth's the Right Place for Love

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When he turns around she has her top off and is climbing out of her skirt. "I don't like old men that much," she says. "We don't have to talk. No one will know."

Armor

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She remembered the feeling of weightlessness, of being lifted against gravity, the soft whoosh of tulle...

Juggernauts

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They are always there. Stoic and steady.

From Below

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I can hear the echoes clearly. They are distinct and crisp, almost as though they're all on exact trajectories to me from their final bounce, without any interference. Each sound, while unintelligible, seems to fit perfectly and expectantly into my ears

The Crossing

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His left hand is still clutching the blue Bic lighter in his pocket, rubbing it slowly but firmly. Anticipation is building, filling Theodore up like a combustible gas inside of a too-small container.

Hector's Record Collection

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Zappa, Santana, Hendrix.

Henry, reach!

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I've heard it said that nothing lasts forever. But when I heard this, no one could have made me believe that nothing referred to my Helen. For it was just this morning that I watched her step quite happily onto our porch, and blow me her goodbye kiss, as