Fear

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 367 of 529 · 20 per page

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Paiutes if the emigrants would hand over their weapons. After Bateman indicated that the emigrants were willing to parley, Lee approached the emigrant stronghold to “arrange the terms of the surrender.” “As I entered the fortifications,” Lee reported, “men, women, and children gathered around me in wild consternation. Some felt that the time of their happy deliverance had come, while others, though in deep distress, and all in tears, looked upon me with doubt, distrust and terror.” It took Lee at least two hours to win the emigrants’ confidence, but eventually, seeing no alternative, they agreed to his terms and gave up their weapons. The youngest children and several of the wounded were placed in a wagon and driven away. They were followed on foot by the emigrant women and the older children. A few hundred yards behind this group, the men of the Fancher party were led away in single file, with each emigrant escorted closely by a Mormon guard. After approximately thirty minutes, Major Higbee, bringing up the rear on horseback, discharged a firearm to get the Saints’ attention. “Halt!” he ordered according to a prearranged plan. “Do your duty!” At this infamous command, each of the Mormons immediately fired a bullet point-blank into the head of the captive under his purview. Most of the emigrant men died instantly, but one of the Saints recalled seeing an apostate Mormon— one of the “backouts” who had joined the Fancher train in Utah and was a close acquaintance of the Mormon executioners—lying wounded on the ground, pleading to Higbee for his life. According to a Mormon witness, Higbee told the apostate, “You would have done the same to me, or just as bad,” and then slit the apostate’s throat. Another Saint who participated in the massacre later reported that while the men from the Fancher party were being executed by their Mormon escorts, the women and children were attacked “by the Indians, among whom were Mormons in disguise.” Painted Saints and Paiutes rushed upon these victims with guns and knives and began shooting and bludgeoning them to death and slashing their throats. An Arkansan named Nancy Huff, who was four years old at the time, later reported, “I saw my mother shot in the forehead and fall dead. The women and children screamed and clung together. Some of the young women begged the assassins after they had run out on us not to kill them, but they had no mercy on them, clubbing their guns and beating out their brains.”

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The imperial persecutions before Trajan belong to the Apostolic age, and have been already described in the first volume. We allude to them here only for the sake of the connection. Christ was born under the first, and crucified under the second Roman emperor. Tiberius (A.D. 14–37) is reported to have been frightened by Pilate’s account of the crucifixion and resurrection, and to have proposed to the senate, without success, the enrollment of Christ among the Roman deities; but this rests only on the questionable authority of Tertullian. The edict of Claudius (42–54) in the year 53, which banished the Jews from Rome, fell also upon the Christians, but as Jews with whom they were confounded. The fiendish persecution of Nero (54–68) was intended as a punishment, not for Christianity, but for alleged incendiarism (64). It showed, however, the popular temper, and was a declaration of war against the new religion. It became a common saying among Christians that Nero would reappear as Antichrist. During the rapidly succeeding reigns of Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Vespacian, and Titus, the church, so far as we know, suffered no very serious persecution. But Domitian (81–96), a suspicious and blasphemous tyrant, accustomed to call himself and to be called "Lord and God," treated the embracing of Christianity a crime against the state, and condemned to death many Christians, even his own cousin, the consul Flavius Clemens, on the charge of atheism; or confiscated their property, and sent them, as in the case of Domitilia, the wife of the Clemens just mentioned, into exile. His jealousy also led him to destroy the surviving descendants of David; and he brought from Palestine to Rome two kinsmen of Jesus, grandsons of Judas, the "brother of the Lord," but seeing their poverty and rustic simplicity, and hearing their explanation of the kingdom of Christ as not earthly, but heavenly, to be established by the Lord at the end of the world, when He should come to judge the quick and the dead, he let them go. Tradition (in Irenaeus, Eusebius, Jerome) assigns to the reign of Domitian the banishment of John to Patmos (which, however, must be assigned to the reign of Nero), together with his miraculous preservation from death in Rome (attested by Tertullian), and the martyrdom of Andrew, Mark, Onesimus, and Dionysius the Areopagite. The Martyrium of Ignatius speaks of "many persecutions under Domitian." His humane and justice-loving successor, Nerva (96–98), recalled the banished, and refused to treat the confession of Christianity as a political crime, though he did not recognise the new religion as a religio licita. § 17. Trajan. A.D. 98–117—Christianity Forbidden—Martyrdom of Symeon of Jerusalem, and Ignatius of Antioch. I. Sources. Plinius, jun.: Epist. x. 96 and 97 (al. 97 sq.). Tertullian: Apol. c. 2; Eusebius: H. E. III. 11, 32, 33, 36. Chron. pasch. p. 470 (ed. Bonn.).

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  About the same time a persecution of less extent appears to have visited Autun (Augustodunum) near Lyons. Symphorinus, a young man of good family, having refused to fall down before the image of Cybele, was condemned to be beheaded. On his way to the place of execution his own mother called to him: "My son, be firm and fear not that death, which so surely leads to life. Look to Him who reigns in heaven. To-day is thy earthly life not taken from thee, but transferred by a blessed exchange into the life of heaven." The story of the "thundering legion"37 rests on the fact of a remarkable deliverance of the Roman army in Hungary by a sudden shower, which quenched their burning thirst and frightened their barbarian enemies, A.D. 174. The heathens, however, attributed this not to the prayers of the Christian soldiers, but to their own gods. The emperor himself prayed to Jupiter: "This hand, which has never yet shed human blood, I raise to thee." That this event did not alter his views respecting the Christians, is proved by the persecution in South Gaul, which broke out three years later. Of isolated cases of martyrdom in this reign, we notice that of Justin Martyr, at Rome, in the year 166. His death is traced to the machinations of Crescens, a Cynic philosopher. Marcus Aurelius was succeeded by his cruel and contemptible son, Commodus (180–192), who wallowed in the mire of every sensual debauchery, and displayed at the same time like Nero the most ridiculous vanity as dancer and singer, and in the character of buffoon; but he was accidentally made to favor the Christians by the influence of a concubine,38 Marcia, and accordingly did not disturb them. Yet under his reign a Roman senator, Apollonius, was put to death for his faith. § 21. Condition of the Church from Septimius Severus to Philip the Arabian. A.D. 193–249. Clemens Alex.: Strom. II. 414. Tertull.: Ad Scapulam, c. 4, 5; Apol. (A.D. 198), c. 7, 12, 30, 37, 49. Respecting the Alexandrian martyrs comp. Euseb.: VI. 1 and 5. The Acts of the Carthaginian martyrs, which contain their ipsissima verba from their diaries in the prisons, but bear a somewhat Montanistic stamp, see in Ruinart, p 90 sqq. Lampridius: Vita Alex. Severi, c. 22, 29, 49. On Philip the Arabian see Euseb.:VI. 34, 36. Hieron.: Chron. ad ann. 246. J. J. Müller: Staat und Kirche unter Alex. Severus. Zürich 1874. F. Görres: Kaiser Alex. Severus und das Christenthum. Leipz., 1877. Jean Réville: La religion à Rome sous les Sévères. Paris, 1886 (vii and 302 pp.); Germ. transl. by Krüger, 1888.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  “If you don’t want your nightdress to be destroyed, remove it now,” the Beast said at last. His tone was matter-of-fact, but his manner was strained, as if he was struggling to maintain control. His voice was gruff, and so deep as to be barely able to transmit human language. His presence engulfed and overwhelmed me. His gaze hypnotized me. His breath burned me. There was nothing that I could perceive remaining of the mild friend I had shared so many suppers with. And yet, as I stared into the Beast’s eyes, mesmerized, a new sensation was rapidly creeping up from deep within me, mingling with the fear.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  they walked north from Mount Dellenbaugh toward the Mormon settlements. Larsen speculates that somewhere on the Shivwits Plateau they encountered one or more Mountain Meadows fugitives, who assumed that Powell’s men must be federal agents or bounty hunters; their preposterous claim to be harmless explorers who had just completed the first descent of the Grand Canyon—which was known by everyone in Utah to be completely impassable—would only have confirmed their treacherous intentions in the eyes of the Saints. So (according to this scenario) the Mormons hauled Dunn and the Howlands into Toquerville, where they were tried by a kangaroo court and summarily executed. Within a few days of this presumed lynching, Major Powell happened to turn up in St. George, asking the good people of the southern settlements to keep an eye out for his missing men, and the Saints of Toquerville realized they’d committed a serious mistake. Magnifying their blunder, Powell was a friend and vocal admirer of the Mormons, in sharp contrast to almost all other agents of the Gentile government in Washington. In a rising panic over what they’d done, the Toquerville residents sent a bogus telegram to Apostle Erastus Snow, blaming the murders on their usual whipping boys, the Indians. Five months later, these same Saints killed the unfortunate fellow who had volunteered to carry out the executions, electing to sacrifice the executioner in order “to stop the shedding of more blood,” as Leany’s letter described it. Then, just as they had done in the wake of Mountain Meadows, the conspirators swore an oath to say nothing about the abominable deed to anyone. Larsen theorizes that this last victim, the presumed executioner, may have been a Mormon named Eli N. Pace. “I understand that Pace had three wives,” says Dr. Larsen, “one of whom was the daughter of John D. Lee. It seems possible that Pace killed Powell’s men because he thought they were bounty hunters closing in on his father-in-law, who had a $5,000 reward on his head at the time.” Adding weight to Larsen’s conjecture is the fact that Eli Pace died on January 29, 1870, “under very mysterious circumstances”: an inquest conducted by local Mormons determined that Pace had committed suicide, but his family took strenuous issue with this finding and demanded another, more rigorous investigation. The second inquest, presided over by Erastus Snow himself and weighed by a three-man jury that included Isaac Haight, corroborated the initial finding—to the surprise of absolutely nobody beyond Pace’s immediate family. The matter was pronounced closed by the LDS Church and the local judiciary,

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Bernard Brady, the Dream Mine investor and business partner of Kenyon Blackmore who had introduced the Lafferty boys to the Prophet Onias, arrived home from work on Wednesday afternoon, July 25, he remembers, to find “all these cop cars in front of my house. Just up and down the street—cop cars everywhere. So I went inside to see what was going on, and my house was filled with cops. My family was seated on the couch, having been told if they moved they would be shot. They were terrorized.” The horde of police officers was literally ripping apart the house, looking for evidence. As soon as Brady walked in the door, a grim-faced detective told him to “sit down and shut up.” Annoyed at being treated as a suspect, Brady asked to see their search warrant. “When they showed it to me,” he says, “I noticed they had the address wrong. The warrant authorized them to search an address across the street and a couple of houses down, not my house. So I went over to one of the cops and pointed out that they were conducting an illegal search. He showed it to the sheriff, who came back and insisted it was a valid warrant anyway, and they kept on tearing the house apart.” It proved to be a fruitful search. In a drawer the officers found the affidavit Brady had notarized back on April 9, stating that he had been shown the removal revelation but wanted to have nothing more to do with it. They also took into evidence some files about the School of the Prophets, as well as the computer on which Ron had typed out most of the revelations he had received—although it did not contain the removal revelation. Soon thereafter, however, the police obtained another search warrant, for an unoccupied house where Ron had been squatting before he and Dan embarked on their road trip. One of the closets inside this home yielded a flannel shirt, and in the breast pocket of the shirt was a note written on a sheet of yellow legal paper, in Ron’s tidy hand. It turned out to be the original copy of the removal revelation.

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  Fortunately it was not the location but one of the gold mines in the vicinity of Johannesburg that was responsible for the outbreak. The workers in this mine were for the most part negroes, for whose cleanliness their white employers were solely responsible. There were a few Indians also working in connection with the mine, twenty-three of whom suddenly caught the infection, and returned one evening to their quarters in the location with an acute attack of the plague. Sjt. Madanjit, who was then canvassing subscribers for Indian Opinion and realizing subscriptions, happened to be in the location at this moment. He was a remarkably fearless man. His heart wept to see these victims of the scourage, and he sent a pencil-note to me to the following effect: ‘There has been a sudden outbreak of the black plague. You must come immediately and take prompt measures, otherwise we must be prepared for dire consequences. Please come immediately.’ Sjt. Madanjit bravely broke open the lock of a vacant house, and put all the patients there. I cycled to the location, and wrote to the Town Clerk to inform him of the circumstances in which we had taken possession of the house. Dr. William Godfrey, who was practising in Johannesburg, ran to the rescue as soon as he got the news, and became both nurse and doctor to the patients. But twenty-three patients were more than three of us could cope with. It is my faith, based on experience, that if one’s heart is pure, calamity brings in its train men and measures to fight it. I had at that time four Indians in my office Sjts. Kalyandas, Maneklal, Gunvantrai Desai and another whose name I cannot recollect. Kalyandas had been entrusted to me by his father. In South Africa I have rarely come across anyone more obliging and willing to render implicit obedience than Kalyandas. Fortunately he was unmarried then, and I did not hesitate to impose on him duties involving risks, however great Maneklal I had secured in Johannesburg. He too, so far as I can remember, was unmarried. So I decided to sacrifice all four call them clerks, co-workers or sons. There was no need at all to consult Kalyandas. The others expressed their readiness as soon as they were asked. ‘Where you are, we will also be’, was their short and sweet reply. Mr. Ritch had a large family. He was ready to take the plunge, but I prevented him. I had not the heart to expose him to the risk. So he attended to the work outside the danger zone. It was a terrible night – that night of vigil and nursing. I had nursed a number of patients before, but never any attacked by the black plague. Dr. Godfrey’s pluck proved infectious. There was not much nursing required.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  the door, so Ron “had to push his way in,” according to Carnes. “But as soon as Ron got inside the house, I heard Brenda saying, ‘I knew it was going to come to this.’ And then I heard Ron calling her a bitch and a liar, and I heard what sounded like a pretty good fight, things breaking. And I heard Brenda screaming, ‘Don’t hurt my baby! Please don’t hurt my baby!’ And Ron was still going on calling her a bitch and a liar. And she was saying she wouldn’t lie anymore. And he just kept on beating her. You could hear a beating going on. “And then I heard a baby crying, ‘Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!’ And then after that everything just kind of got quiet.” When Ron forced his way inside, says Dan, “He shut the door behind him and he asked, ‘What are you doing?’ I said, ‘Well, I feel like I’m fulfilling the revelation now.’ I was trying to whisper, because I didn’t want Brenda to hear things that would make her uncomfortable. Then Ron said, ‘How are you going to do it?’ So I asked him to give me a minute to pray about it. And I kind of said to myself, ‘What am I supposed to do, Lord?’ Then I felt impressed that I was supposed to use a knife. That I was supposed to cut their throats. Ron asked, ‘What knife are you going to use?’ I had a knife on my belt, and Ron had a butcher knife in his boot. I told him, ‘That butcher knife you purchased.’ At which time he took the knife out of his boot and set it on the floor where I could reach it. Then he tried to knock Brenda unconscious with his fist. “He hit her in the face, over and over again, until blood started to splatter on the wall, but he hurt his hand so he had to quit hitting her. By that point enough blood had splattered that I lost my grip on Brenda and she stood up. Ron moved around to block her from leaving. Her face looked pretty bad where he had been hitting her. She was pretty freaked out. She said to me, ‘Hold me, please. Just hold me.’ I could tell she was just doing it in an attempt to get sympathy. Ron told her, ‘Yeah, well, I wish I had someone to hold me, too, you fucking bitch. But because of you, I don’t have a wife anymore.’ “That shut her up for a minute. So then she said, ‘I’ll do anything you want.’ And Ron said, ‘Okay, sit in the corner.’ She leaned against the wall and started to slide down into the corner when Ron turned to me and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’ I could tell he was very frightened. I told him, ‘You leave if you need to. I’ll take care of what I feel I’m being led to do, then I’ll be ready to go.’ At that point Brenda must have realized what I was talking about, because she bolted

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  an affidavit, which he signed and had notarized on April 9: AFFIDAVIT KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, that I, Bernard Brady, a Free and Natural Citizen of the United States of America, do hereby depose and say that I have reason to believe and fear that lives of the following ten people are in jeopardy: Robert Crossfield; Bernard Brady; David Olsen; David Coronado; Tim Lafferty; Mark Lafferty; Brenda Lafferty; Brenda Lafferty’s baby daughter; Chloe Low; and Richard Stowe. I, Bernard Brady, do further depose and say that it is my belief that this jeopardy results from the thoughts, beliefs, attitudes, understanding, and potential actions of the following four individuals: Ron Lafferty; Dan Lafferty; Watson Lafferty; and Todd (last name unknown). Brady’s concern was genuine and acute, but he didn’t alert the police; nor did any other members of the School of the Prophets. Brady merely filed the affidavit in a desk drawer in his home, so that if Ron did kill anyone, Brady could prove that he was blameless. Neither did any of the school members—despite their alarm upon learning of the removal revelation—see fit to alert any of the people designated for removal. Later that month, however, Dan took it upon himself to inform his youngest brother, Allen, with whom he had always been especially close, that God had commanded the ritual murder of Brenda and their baby girl, Erica, and that Ron and Dan intended to see that the commandment was carried out. Allen expressed shock, then asked, “Why? Particularly why Erica, being an innocent child? Why would she be involved?” At which point Ron angrily cut in, “Because she would grow up to be a bitch,

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  avert imminent eradication: without delay, they would have to deliver Joseph and six other Mormon leaders to face charges of treason; provide monetary compensation to the Missourians for property that had been plundered and destroyed; surrender all Mormon weapons; and then abandon the state of Missouri altogether. The conditions were unreasonably harsh, yet Joseph had no real choice but to accept them. Addressing the faithful in Far West, he put on a brave face and announced, “I shall offer myself up as a sacrifice to save your lives and save the Church. Be of good cheer, my brethren. Pray earnestly to the Lord to deliver your leaders from their enemies. I bless you all in the name of Christ.” The Saints surrendered on November 1. Joseph, his brother Hyrum, and five other Mormon leaders were taken into custody by the Missourians, hastily court- martialed, and found guilty of treason—a capital crime. Missouri general Alexander Doniphan was ordered, “Sir: You will take Joseph Smith and the other prisoners into the public square of Far West, and shoot them at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.” But Doniphan was an uncommonly principled man, and he balked at carrying out the order. Joseph and his cohorts were American citizens, and Doniphan knew it was illegal for the military to court-martial and summarily execute civilians. Indicating that he refused to participate in such a travesty of justice, General Doniphan wrote a note to his commanding officer that read, “It is cold- blooded murder. I will not obey your order . . . ; and if you execute those men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God!” Thanks to Doniphan’s brave refusal, the execution of the Mormons was called off, and Joseph’s life was spared for the time being. The Saints, however, were forced to accede to all the other conditions of their surrender, and once they had been disarmed they became easy prey for Missourians bent on revenge. Their possessions were plundered, their cabins torn down and burned for firewood, their livestock shot for amusement. Mormon men were indiscriminately beaten; rapes of women and girls were reported. And on top of everything else, they were told that they had just a few months—until the spring of 1839—to leave the state. It proved to be a difficult winter for the Saints. As the faithful endured famine

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  About midday the pair passed by another stream. Quite thirsty, the princess said to her maid, “Please get down from your horse and fetch me some water.” But the maid refused, saying, “You may get it for yourself.” This shocked the princess, but she felt too kindly toward the girl to take the issue up with her as she should, and so, sliding down from her horse, she went to the stream to drink. But the princess’s horse, Falada, marked all that occurred. A little farther down the road the princess once again felt thirsty and, forgetting the earlier incident, she once more entreated her maid, saying, “Please get down from your horse and fetch me some water.” Again the maid refused the princess with a rude retort, and the princess was obliged to get the water for herself. But after drinking she stood up to find that her maid had dismounted also. The look in her maid’s eyes caused the princess’s heart to grow cold with terror. It appeared as if the maid would kill her, but instead she ordered the princess to remove her royal robes and don her maid’s clothing. This seemed an odd request, but the princess obeyed silently, even as she watched her maid put on her royal robes. Next, the maid mounted Falada, leaving her own nag for the princess to ride. The princess wondered at all that occurred, but said nothing, thinking it safer to wait until they reached the safety of the kingdom before questioning the maid’s bizarre behavior. As for the maid, she kept postponing the moment when she would conclude her scheme, for she did not, in truth, take pleasure in the task ahead. They traveled on for a time in this way, with the princess too frightened to speak and the maid solemnly pondering their fate. When at last they reached the fork in the road that marked the entrance of the betrothed prince’s kingdom, the maid knew that she could delay no longer. She stopped the princess’s horse and forced her to dismount. Before the princess had time to speak the maid quickly produced a dagger. Pointing the dagger at the princess’s heart, she gave her an ultimatum: to vow never to reveal her true identity to a single soul or else be killed. The princess was too shocked to speak, but the maid pressed the dagger forward, saying, “I know you will not break a royal vow, so vow now or die!” What could the princess do? To save her own life she did as the maid demanded.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  The girl turned to the servant who answered the bell, an older woman who regarded her kindly. “I should be grateful if you could offer any advice,” she implored. “Remove your clothes,” said the old woman calmly. “What!” exclaimed the girl. “Remove your clothes,” repeated the woman. “That is how you know him and you will choose the man you know.” “But, what if…” she paused, uncertain. “It is the only way,” replied the shrewd old woman. “You will not get another chance after this.” Seeing the wisdom in the old woman’s words, she quickly removed her clothing. Then she opened the door and walked into the blackness beyond. The door closed immediately behind her. Although the room was silent, she could feel the presence of the men who crowded the large room. Slowly she moved forward. It occurred to her suddenly that she hadn’t even touched the face of her prince, for he had thwarted her every attempt to seek his identity. She had only that one glimpse of him by candlelight. She knew him only as a lover. Would that be enough to help her now? All of a sudden, she felt someone beside her. She reached out her hand in the dark and discovered a man standing there. The thought of the smirking servant crossed her mind, and she recoiled instantly. But the man reached out a steady hand and held her. With her heart racing, she let him draw her near. His hands slid down the length of her body, touching her intimately. She tried to concentrate on his hands and recall exactly how her prince’s hands had felt when they were touching her. Were these his hands that caressed her now? The man reached a hand between her legs, prying her open and thrusting a finger inside her warm body. But something was wrong. The fingers that were digging into her flesh were cold, not warm like her lover’s. With a small cry of horror, she tore herself from the impostor’s hands. The next man she encountered had much warmer hands. Like the former, he touched her body intimately, without reserve. Did all men grasp and clutch at a woman in exactly the same manner? But there seemed to be something familiar in this one’s touch. She turned up her face towards his in the darkness. His lips immediately came down on hers in a soft kiss. Pressing her body close to his, she slowly wound her arms around his neck, thinking this man could be her prince. Her body began responding to his warm kisses and caresses, and yet, a slow dawning crept up within her that this man could not be her prince after all, for his kisses were much too wet!

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  It was I who, unable to sleep one evening, stumbled across the Beast’s private chamber while wandering toward the library in search of something to read. I heard a noise, much like a groan, coming from the other side of his door as I passed. I stopped abruptly. In a moment or two I heard the noise again. I knew immediately it was the Beast and was seized with compassion for him. Was he ill? Without further thought I knocked on his chamber door. Moments passed and I knocked again. “Go away,” I heard the Beast say at last, in a pleading tone. “I shall not,” I replied determinedly, “not until I have seen that you are well.” Silence again. “Please,” I implored, knocking again. “Just open the door and let me…” “Go away from that door, Beauty!” the Beast commanded harshly. “Leave now or you will endanger yourself!” His tone was controlled, but his voice was desperate. I have wondered many times why I did not leave him then. I have told myself that I could not leave a friend in need. I have told myself that it was my curiosity that would not let me leave. I have told myself a great many things, but I suspect that you will not believe them, either. I turned the doorknob and opened the door to the Beast’s private bedchamber. It was pitch-black inside. I took a few steps into the room, searching the darkness for the Beast. The door behind me suddenly slammed shut. The hair on my neck stood up. The darkness was slowly giving way to shadows. My eyes scanned the massive room frantically, seeking the Beast’s form. Suddenly I heard the shrill screech of metal rings on rods, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin, as one heavy velvet drape was yanked aside so that the bright moonlight could enter the chamber. Now I could see the Beast clearly as he approached me. I could also suddenly hear his irregular breathing, and I realized he was panting. My own breathing became more rapid as I desperately struggled to get enough air into my lungs. It was as if the huge chamber had shrunk to half its size upon my discovering the Beast’s large form. Fear was steadily trickling through my veins, infusing me with an acute awareness of everything around me. The Beast slowly approached me until he stood so close that I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and I fancied I could even feel heat from his stare. He was a full foot and a half, if not more, taller than I, with shoulders that extended a distance of more than three times the size of mine. There was an unnatural glow in his dark eyes. I shivered in spite of the heat I felt coming off him.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Thanks to a revelation Ron had received back on February 28, the story of Nephi slaying Laban was imbued with special significance for Dan. In this revelation, God had commanded: Thus saith the Lord unto My servant Dan. . . . Thou art like unto Nephi of old for never since the beginning of time have I had a more obedient son. And for this I will greatly bless thee and multiply thy seed, for have I not said if ye do what I say I am bound[?] Continue in My word for I have great responsibility and great blessings in store for thee. That is all for now. Even so Amen. This revelation had a tremendous impact on Dan: after God had declared that he was like Nephi, according to Mark Lafferty, Dan “was willing to do anything that the Lord commanded him.” In the fundamentalist worldview, a sharp dividing line runs through all of creation, demarcating good from evil, and everybody falls on one side of that line or the other. After much praying, Ron and Dan decided that the four individuals God had commanded them to remove must, a priori, be wicked— they were “children of perdition,” as Dan phrased it—and therefore deserved to be murdered. Having determined that the so-called removal revelation was true and valid, the Lafferty brothers further concluded that “it would be wise to act on the things it suggested.” Whenever a member of the School of the Prophets received a revelation, it was standard procedure for the commandment to be presented to the other members for evaluation. On March 22, just before the school’s weekly meeting at Claudine Lafferty’s home, Ron took Bernard Brady into a side room and handed him the removal revelation. “He asked me to look it over,” says Brady, “and then he left the room. As I read it, my hands began to shake. I got cold all over. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.” When Ron returned a few minutes later, Brady told him, “This scares me to death. I don’t want to have anything to do with anything like that. I think it is wrong.” When the meeting commenced a

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  But all of a sudden Bluebeard’s countenance darkened and, becoming very grim, he pointed to a tiny, odd-looking key that was attached to the ring. Showing this key to his wife, Bluebeard explained that it opened the door to a small room at the end of the corridor on the very bottom floor of the castle. Without offering further explanation, Bluebeard rigorously forbade his wife to use the key and enter the room, warning her that she would suffer greatly if she disobeyed him. Though she made one attempt after another to gain a reason for this injunction, none was forthcoming. Bluebeard’s wife stared at the odd little key as her husband bade her a tender farewell. Now you may think that Bluebeard’s wife was eager to send for her friends and throw a great party but, in fact, as she stood at the window and watched her husband’s coach ride out of sight, she was overcome with curiosity to know what was in the little room at the end of the corridor on the bottom floor of the castle. Indeed, the poor lady could think of nothing else, so that she was utterly incapable of finding any pleasure in the many luxuries that lay before her. Clutching the little key to the forbidden room, she wandered up and down the long, winding hallways of Bluebeard’s castle, brooding over the warning issued by her husband. At length, she found herself standing at the very doorway of the room she had been banned from entering. “I must have a glimpse inside or I shall have no peace,” she reasoned. Without pondering further over the matter, she carefully fit the tiny key into the keyhole and turned the latch. As soon as the latch was released, the door popped open, but the room was pitch-dark inside, as shutters were closed up tightly over the windows. She rummaged through her pockets in search of a match and, finding one, quickly lit it and held it out before her. She took a step forward as her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, fell upon a large table. There were shackles attached to the table, evidently for the purpose of restraining someone. Her eyes widened. In another part of the room she saw a heavy rope hanging from the ceiling. About halfway down on the rope there was a manacle, and directly below that the rope split into two parts, with each connecting to a shackle that was fastened to the floor. On a nearby wall there hung long leather strips of varied lengths and widths. As she stared at these objects in horror, Bluebeard’s wife suddenly recalled the many rumors she had heard about her husband’s previous wives, all of which were presumed dead. Suddenly it occurred to her that he must have killed them in this very room, for, to her inexperienced eyes, the objects she saw there could serve no other purpose.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Presently, Egano returned from fowling and being weary, betook himself to bed, as soon as he had supper, and after him the lady, who left the chamber-door open, as she had promised. Thither, at the appointed hour, came Anichino and softly entering the chamber, shut the door again from within; then, going up to the bed on the side where the lady lay, he put his hand to her breast and found her awake. As soon as she felt him come, she took his hand in both her own and held it fast; then, turning herself about in the bed, she did on such wise that Egano, who was asleep, awoke; whereupon quoth she to him, 'I would not say aught to thee yestereve, for that meseemed thou was weary; but tell me, Egano, so God save thee, whom holdest thou thy best and trustiest servant and him who most loveth thee of those whom thou hast in the house?' 'Wife,' answered Egano, 'what is this whereof thou askest me? Knowest thou it not? I have not nor had aye any in whom I so trusted and whom I loved as I love and trust in Anichino. But why dost thou ask me thereof?' Anichino, seeing Egano awake and hearing talk of himself, was sore afraid lest the lady had a mind to cozen him and offered again and again to draw his hand away, so he might begone; but she held it so fast that he could not win free. Then said she to Egano, 'I will tell thee. I also believed till to-day that he was even such as thou sayest and that he was more loyal to thee than any other, but he hath undeceived me; for that, what while thou wentest a-fowling to-day, he abode here, and whenas it seemed to him time, he was not ashamed to solicit me to yield myself to his pleasures, and I, so I might make thee touch and see this thing and that it might not behove me certify thee thereof with too many proofs, replied that I would well and that this very night, after midnight, I would go into our garden and there await him at the foot of the pine. Now for my part I mean not to go thither; but thou, an thou have a mind to know thy servant's fidelity, thou mayst lightly do it by donning a gown and a veil of mine and going down yonder to wait and see if he will come thither, as I am assured he will.' Egano hearing this, answered, 'Certes, needs must I go see,' and rising, donned one of the lady's gowns, as best he knew in the dark; then, covering his head with a veil, he betook himself to the garden and proceeded to await Anichino at the foot of the pine.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Mojave Desert. Given the hundreds of miles of hot, hard country that stretched ahead of them, the emigrants must have been grateful for the opportunity to rest and graze their stock in such a verdant setting. The temperature dipped into the forties when the sun went down. At daybreak, after rousing themselves from their bedrolls, the group huddled around campfires to warm their hands and to cook. The crisp morning air smelled of sagebrush and juniper smoke. No one suspected they were about to be attacked; the Arkansans hadn’t even bothered to circle their wagons the night before, as they customarily did on the trail. “Our party was just sitting down to a breakfast of quail and cottontail rabbits when a shot rang out from a nearby gully,” Sarah Frances Baker Mitchell recalled eighty-two years after the event, “and one of the children toppled over, hit by the bullet.” That first gunshot was the beginning of a furious surprise assault that would fatally wound seven Arkansans before the day was out. Although Mitchell was only three years old at the time, the horrors of that morning—and the even greater horrors of the week to come—were seared into her memory. The emigrants quickly circled their wagons into a defensive corral, dug in as best they could, and returned fire, repelling the first wave of assailants. They assumed they were being ambushed by Indians, a conjecture that seemed to be confirmed by glimpses of dark-skinned men in war paint shooting at them. As it happened, most of the attackers on that initial morning of what would become a five-day siege were indeed Paiutes, but others were Mormons from nearby settlements who had simply painted their faces to look like Indians. And commanding the assault was a well-known Latter-day Saint: forty-four-year-old John D. Lee, a battle-tested veteran of the troubles in Missouri and Illinois, as devoted to the church and its leaders as any Mormon alive. Although Lee was a blustery, brown-nosing martinet beloved by few of his peers, Brigham Young felt genuine affection for him and valued his unfaltering obedience. Back in Nauvoo, shortly after assuming leadership of the church, Brigham had adopted him in an esoteric Mormon ritual, making Lee his symbolic son, and in 1856 he’d appointed Lee “Farmer to the Indians,” the prophet’s personal ambassador to the Southern Paiute tribe.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "I can only say one thing in answer: I must see you personally, here at Wragby, before I can do anything. You promised faithfully to come back to Wragby, and I hold you to the promise. I don't believe anything nor understand anything until I see you personally, here under normal circumstances. I needn't tell you that nobody here suspects anything, so your return would be quite normal. Then if you feel, after we have talked things over, that you still remain in the same mind, no doubt we can come to terms." Connie showed this letter to Mellors. "He wants to begin his revenge on you," said he, handing the letter back. Connie was silent. She was somewhat surprised to find that she was afraid of Clifford. She was afraid to go near him. She was afraid of him as if he were evil and dangerous. "What shall I do?" she said. "Nothing, if you don't want to do anything." She replied, trying to put Clifford off. He answered: "If you don't come back to Wragby now, I shall consider that you are coming back one day, and act accordingly. I shall just go on the same and wait for you here, if I wait for fifty years." She was frightened. This was bullying of an insidious sort. She had no doubt he meant what he said. He would not divorce her, and the child would be his, unless she could find some means of establishing its illegitimacy. After a time of worry and harassment, she decided to go to Wragby. Hilda would go with her. She wrote this to Clifford. He replied: "I shall not welcome your sister, but I shall not deny her the door. I have no doubt she has connived at your desertion of your duties and responsibilities, so do not expect me to show pleasure in seeing her." They went to Wragby. Clifford was away when they arrived. Mrs. Bolton received them. "Oh, your Ladyship, it isn't the happy homecoming we hoped for, is it!" she said. "Isn't it!" said Connie. So this woman knew! How much did the rest of the servants know or suspect? She entered the house which now she hated with every fiber in her body. The great, rambling mass of a place seemed evil to her, just a menace over her. She was no longer its mistress, she was its victim. "I can't stay long here," she whispered to Hilda, terrified. And she suffered going into her own bedroom, re-entering into possession as if nothing had happened. She hated every minute inside the Wragby walls. They did not meet Clifford till they went down to dinner. He was dressed, and with a black tie: rather reserved, and very much the superior gentleman. He behaved perfectly politely during the meal, and kept a polite sort of conversation going: but it seemed all touched with insanity.

• From Between the World and Me (2015)

  To be black in the Baltimore of my youth was to be naked before the elements of the world, before all the guns, fists, knives, crack, rape, and disease. The nakedness is not an error, nor pathology. The nakedness is the correct and intended result of policy, the predictable upshot of people forced for centuries to live under fear. The law did not protect us. And now, in your time, the law has become an excuse for stopping and frisking you, which is to say, for furthering the assault on your body. But a society that protects some people through a safety net of schools, government-backed home loans, and ancestral wealth but can only protect you with the club of criminal justice has either failed at enforcing its good intentions or has succeeded at something much darker. However you call it, the result was our infirmity before the criminal forces of the world. It does not matter if the agent of those forces is white or black—what matters is our condition, what matters is the system that makes your body breakable. The revelation of these forces, a series of great changes, has unfolded over the course of my life. The changes are still unfolding and will likely continue until I die. I was eleven years old, standing out in the parking lot in front of the 7-Eleven, watching a crew of older boys standing near the street. They yelled and gestured at…who?…another boy, young, like me, who stood there, almost smiling, gamely throwing up his hands. He had already learned the lesson he would teach me that day: that his body was in constant jeopardy. Who knows what brought him to that knowledge? The projects, a drunken stepfather, an older brother concussed by police, a cousin pinned in the city jail. That he was outnumbered did not matter because the whole world had outnumbered him long ago, and what do numbers matter? This was a war for the possession of his body and that would be the war of his whole life. I stood there for some seconds, marveling at the older boys’ beautiful sense of fashion. They all wore ski jackets, the kind which, in my day, mothers put on layaway in September, then piled up overtime hours so as to have the thing wrapped and ready for Christmas. I focused in on a light-skinned boy with a long head and small eyes. He was scowling at another boy, who was standing close to me. It was just before three in the afternoon. I was in sixth grade. School had just let out, and it was not yet the fighting weather of early spring. What was the exact problem here? Who could know?

• From Macho Sluts (1988)

  Finally, Joy withdrew her hand and withdrew herself and left Roxanne alone with Chris and her signal whip. This one was a third of the length of the bullwhip. Roxanne admired the sleight of hand that had distracted her from this important alteration in the pieces of the game. She would have covered her face, would have turned away, tried to shield herself—but her arms and legs were immobile, pinned, of no use. So she adopted the best defense available—she began to erase herself. She began to give up the idea that she had anything to hide or any right to demand pleasure instead of pain. She began to crumble herself at the edges, fade into the air, render herself will-less and invisible. But Chris required an exchange of words between them before the whipping could begin. Roxanne made the necessary responses— she acknowledged that it was she who had offered Chris anything, acknowledged that she had no right to appeal the matter to any other court, acknowledged that it would indeed be very hard to endure and that she had no choice but to endure it. And she asked for and was not granted permission to scream. Both of them knew she would scream anyway. This excuse to prolong the punishment was a formality, a ritual that was of value primarily to Chris, for it allowed her to gather her energy, feed her rage, and finally granted provocation to unleash that rage. I am not here, Roxanne told herself. This will happen, but it will not happen to me. I am not here for anything to happen to. Liar , screamed the first lash of the whip, and she was suddenly unable to be anywhere else but here, bound to this wooden cross, a woman being beaten. The bondage that had seemed excessively confining was now insufficient. She wished there were many more ropes. They would be shelter, protection. It does not matter, she told herself. I am of no consequence, my pain is of no consequence, if I resist it will be the end of me. The second lash brought a cry of pain from her throat, and the muscles there bore down around the next scream like a woman giving birth and forced the sound into a word. The word was “Yes.” It was the only word that would not stop her heart. “Jesus,” someone in the pack murmured, “she’s really marking her up.” Roxanne had never been so heavily abused on the insides of her thighs. Her ass and shoulders were much less sensitive, and could consequently take a greater amount of punishment. Chris was deliberately aiming for the softest, most vulnerable part of her body, raising welts and bruises with each stroke of the whip. “Yes!” she screamed again. I consent to this beating, I give in to this beating, please please how long will it go on?