Trepidation

Landslide. Highway closed. Closest motel, five miles back.

The adjoining restaurant was packed. I sat at a table with a coupleand their three high-spirited children. Rain fogged our window.Someone outdoors fleeted past us.

“Creek flooded road to my cabin,” an elderly gent spoke as we bothexited. “Why are you here?”

I wiped my eyeglasses pretending not to hear. “Can you please walk meto my room.”

He laughed. “Why, you scared?”

“I saw a prowler earlier.”

He obliged.

Next day’s news revealed that a bear had to be tranquilized on thegrounds, taken back into the woods.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Publishedat: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words,Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press),ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

Growth

I like watching my nails grow. I eat enough proteins to create dead cells to convert into nails and hair. Every week, I trim my nails, and every two weeks, my hair. But they grow back with a vengeance each time. When I forgot to trim my nails once, my infant brother got a large scratch on his face. I forgot to cut my hair, and my mother had a nasty fall entangled in them. No one comes near me now, except to cut my nails and hair. I’m the keratin child demon everyone has learnt to be scared of.

From Guest Contributor Namitha Varma

Namitha is a media professional based in Bengaluru, India. She has publishing credits in over 25 literary journals including Sahitya Akademi’s journal Indian Literature, eFiction India, Gone Lawn, Postcard Poems and Prose, 101 Words, Microfiction Monday Magazine, and Cafe Dissensus Everyday. Her micropoem has been read out on NPR Radio as part of the National Poetry Month 2014, and her works feature in two anthologies. Read more on her blog or follow her on Twitter.

Cage Fighter

Emmet never gets scared. He is a terrifically talented mixed martial artist; flexible, strong, unpredictable.

His rise through the rankings has been steady. Probably get a shot at a universally regarded title next year.

The opportunity to compete tonight arose unexpectedly when one of the fighters withdrew suddenly, for reasons which were never fully explained.

Emmet took the fight at short notice, no questions asked.

As his second I follow him into the cage.

“I’m scared,” says Emmet as his opponent, a hideous alien lumbers into the cage. “The way they spoke, I was expecting to fight another human being.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor and writer who lives in Brisbane, Australia.

Barry's other stories may be found in Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.

Fear

I always said I was scared of nothing. I wasn't afraid of the dark, or death, or even lizards, mice and cockroaches. I didn't disbelieve in ghosts, but they’d done nothing to make me believe. Nor was I frightened of Judgement Day, because I am a conscientious person. Until the moment I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my room, I was truly scared of nothing. But when his shadow crept into the bedroom and his sinewy hands stifled my scream before tearing off every scrap of modesty on my being from that moment on, I became scared of everything.

From Guest Contributor Namitha Varma

Namitha Varma is a media professional based in Mangaluru, India. She has publishing credits in over 15 literary journals including Sahitya Akademi’s journal Indian Literature, eFiction India, Hackwriters, MadSwirl, FIVE Poetry, Microfiction Monday Magazine, and Postcard Shorts. Her micropoem has been read out on NPR Radio as part of the National Poetry Month 2014, and a poem of hers features in the Authorspress anthology ‘Resonating Strings.’ She blogs on narcissistwrites.blogspot.com and tweets via @namithavr.

On The Shore

"They'd both die for you, you know," he said.

She watched as the man and the dog, floundering in the sand as though beached at low tide, laughed and barked in hoarse revelry.

"Does it scare you?" he asks.

"No. That I'd die for them, that scares me."

He watches her watch the man and the dog.

"Feeling is more frightening than being felt for?"

"It's more difficult to control," she says, finally looking at her interrogator.

"Dying," he says. "That's the ultimate in losing control."

"Not if you control how you die."

Her pockets were already full of stones. From Guest Contributor Peter Hynes

Peter's stories have appeared in such publications as Flesh & Blood, The Malahat Review, Transversions, Dark Tales, Wicked Hollow, Rain Crow, Not One Of Us, Aiofe's Kiss, Horror Library Vol 2, and On Spec.

New York City Runaway

Crystal hid from the crowds of people by darting from shadow to shadow. Luckily, everyone was too busy to notice. The tall, hairy strangers in suits and uniforms were frightening, yet nothing scared her more than the thought of returning home.

She secretly flitted about the streets of the city, searching for a doorway to slip through. But not jut any doorway. Crystal had a long list of requirements that needed to be fulfilled before she picked a location. She hadn't run away in order to settle just anywhere.

After all, once a fairy enters someone's home, it never leaves.

The Straight And Narrow Road

Prior to the trip, Nebraska frightened us most.

The road looked so straight on the map, like a rigid line held fast by fate and concrete. We'd heard stories of the empty fields and empty skies in every direction. The kind of tedium that could endanger your soul. I should have suggested that we reconsider and chose another route, but I didn't want Jesse to know how scared I really was.

I wish we had never gone to that fortune teller. She had probably been a fraud, but the thought of being bored to death has haunted me ever since.

Misdirection

Stan took Selena's proposal as nothing more than a desperate joke, or perhaps a flailing attempt to save herself from his vengeance. But in reality it was only meant as a distraction. Selena wanted him to believe she was scared and desperate. She wanted him to underestimate her again.

"Til' death do you part, Selena? Richard would have expected you to at least shed a tear on his behalf."

"Richard never cared about me. He never appreciated me, not the way you do, right Stan?"

"It's not going to work."

Selena smiled. It already was working.

Part Nine

What Happened To Richard

Selena had little choice but to go back with Stan. She would just tell Richard that she'd gotten scared and didn't want to get caught in the middle of a war. Her leaving had nothing to do with her having betrayed the both of them to a competing crime boss. Why would he ever think that?

Selena slid into the Cadillac and told Stan to drive. "Don't try anything, or Richard will be even angrier than he already is."

"Richard's dead. I shot him myself."

Selena knew that if she didn't get away quickly, she'd be next.

Part Six