From whence comes fear?
Darkness?
Evil?
Ourselves?
I suppose there must be all sorts of “papers” written about the subject, but this image came to me one fine day, years and years ago, so I wrote it up.
This is my second publicly published work of fiction. It was published in Tyro #16, on January 6, 1989.
Fear
© F. P. Dorchak, 1989
It was the Devil’s own pitch
A darkness utterly corrupt and vile.
I couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a thing
The silence absolute—except of that internal ringing sound.
I turned, slowly.
The only way I could know this
Was by the steps my feet made over each other.
That’s when I came face to face with it—
Teeth ripping my face apart.
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