A History of Fear

by Luke Dumas

Even as a nonbeliever, the thought of the Devil’s Advocate sent a cold tingle down my spine.

He consumed books like breath mints, penned a new one seemingly every year, and published frequently in journals both scholarly and spiritual. His writing seemed to inhabit both worlds at once, smearing the lines between academia and religion until inquiry became an act of worship and confession a matter of intellectual discourse.

Once a week, she helped the Rescue Mission force homeless people to pray in return for food and shelter, and managed my father’s business affairs, whoring him out for weddings and religious counseling as often as possible.

Paper spilled onto the floor like the viscera of a gutted pig.

Even if he had, it seemed unthinkable that a person as articulate and presumably successful as D.B. (not that he had ever told me what he did for a living) could flirt as audaciously with illiteracy as the author of this document clearly did.