Tales of Lost Fear by J. H. Bardwell

Fear strangles . . .

Tales of lost fear

Fear strangles like long fingers squeezing your throat. The faster you turn to face the boogeyman, the sooner his slimy claws strike! This contemporary anthology features a selection of short stories and sonnets of brave characters who face their innermost fears. Everyone must discover what frightens them more: the horror lurking in the closet or the horror lurking in their hearts?

Genre: FICTION / Short Stories (single author)

Secondary Genre: FICTION / General

Language: English


Word Count: 11,800

Sample text:

I could not close my eyes. They were waiting for me to close my eyes. As soon as I did, I would be dragged screaming into the dark recesses under my bed. Where I would be trussed up and turned on a spit over a roasting fire that gives no light. And they would collect my sweat in a little pan and suck it up with a turkey baster and drench me till I was golden brown. The tears they would lick straight off the salty crevices of my face with their cold, raspy tongues like drops of sweet ice cream. I pulled the covers over my head to protect myself from the bed monsters. It usually worked, unless I had to pee.

The next day I confided my fears to my wise elder brother. So, he got me a hamster.

“Here, Squirt,” Brother talked to the wall, dumping a lively mass of fur and mousey feet into its outstretched palm. “’Bout time you had your first pet, anyways.”

At first Daddy was affronted.

“What in hell did you get the kid that thing for!? All they do is eat and shit and shit and eat some more.”

Mommy rolled her eyes, “Such language! Now, what kind of example are you setting for the children?”

“A bad one,” Daddy smiled. Then he went down to the basement; and built me a small cage out of scrap wood and chicken wire.

That night, the monsters came again. This time from the closet. I could hear them scratching behind the door. Snuffling in my row of shoes. Sniffing. Wondering what my feet tasted like. Boiled. Baked. Raw. When I closed my eyes, I could see the shapeless forms with red goat horns and fat purple tongues with orange fire shooting out of their mouths and blazing from their fingertips. Cackling in a wordless language too horrible to utter.

Book translation status:

The book is available for translation into any language except those listed below:

Already translated. Translated by Carmelo Massimo Tidona
Already translated. Translated by Manuel Alejandro Muñoz Villa

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