"Fear is a catalyst for love, or at least a shortcut to sex.”

“Fear Theory” / X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine

Check out Lizzie Challen Hubbard’s “Fear Theory" in X-R-A-Y. Remember that name. You’ll definitely remember the story. Challen Hubbard is adept with poetry or prose, but there’s something so effortless about her casual, dark humor, something so decisive in her crisp, clear plotting—even in this one little spark of a story (2,100 words)—that she seems primed to crank them out like Stephen King. And I’m sure King would love “Fear Theory.”

Can we call this horror? Not really. At least not until the ending. Once we’re there, though, we’re in deep.

Our unnamed narrator is a scientist, a lab worker who rhapsodizes about “the amazing inner workings of the brain.” But we meet this dark soul at fifteen (A boy? A girl? Not sure, but I’ll go with girl, assuming for no good reason that she’s a stand-in for the author.) The younger-narrator is a ride operator / ticket taker outside the “Ghost Train,” a fairground attraction. The train is the locus of connection for local teens looking to pair up, and Challen Hubbard sets the story hook in the idea of the reliable gap that forms between these partners-in-the-making as they wait in line to board “as if touching would give them an electric shock.” What is it that really ushers us towards love, after all?

Once these teens have completed their train ride, though—during which our narrator’s brother and mates, covered in fake blood, jump out of the dark and terrorize them—they emerge “snuggled together and smiling, high as hell, eyes shining.” Which brings on our scientist’s first hypothesis: “Fear is a catalyst for love, or at least a shortcut to sex.” She classifies the different types of fairground scare-ees, all part of her larger philosophy of “recreational fear,” which is at the heart of her take on romantic connection.

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Then we’re immediately immersed in our scientist’s first date with an unflappable guy who works in insurance and is “not not-hot.” It’s here that we learn of her work with lab rats (uhm, yeah…so gear up for that) and particularly the special “rat jam” they’re fed, which they’re “just crazy about.”

Every living thing is likely a lab animal for our scientist. People might as well be rats. Like the rodents are crazy for their jam, the scientist’s brother is “crazy about money,” her roommate is “crazy for jaffa cakes,” the scientist “crazy for data.” Will she and insurance-guy be crazy for each other?

We get the answer to that question in a barn-burner of an ending that is definitely not for the squeamish (or rather, the not not-squeamish). It’s gross and fun and funny and cinematic and deeply romantically & philosophically sound, by our scientist’s lights.

“Fear Theory” is a fast, freaky and entirely successful ride.

This one’s dedicated to master-of-horror Keawe Melina Patrick. Found a kindred spirit for you, Melina :)

X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine’s vision is to “publish uncomfortable, entertaining, and unforgettable prose that shines brighter than the skeleton in your body, prose that sees through the skin and reveals something deeper.” They “work hard to give our readers the best authors on the planet.”

X-R-A-Y publishes new stories and features 4-5 times per week. Short story (2,000 to 7,500 words) and flash fiction (300 to 2,000 words) submissions open on the 1^st of each month and close when they reach their cap, which may vary from month to month. Every other month they limit short story submissions to writers who have not submitted in the past.

Be warned. According to X-R-A-Y: “Exposure to the website carries a small risk of radiation poisoning. We suggest wearing a lead apron while submitting.” So, there’s that. Think of it as a Thunder Blanket.

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