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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Runnin Off at the Mouth.... 
Like this initially enigmatic line: steps my feet made over each other.
deliciously super creepy..
It’s all about the drama, eh, Karen? ;-] Thanks!
Short and creepy, Frank! The last two lines made me think of some of the great jump scares in “Alien.”
To quote from Rod Serling: “Fear, of course, is extremely relative. It depends on who can look down and who must look up. It depends on other vagaries, like the time, the mood, the darkness. But it’s been said before, with great validity, that the worst thing there is to fear is fear itself.”
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