Fear
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Professor James Lowry doesn't believe in ghosts, the supernatural, the surreal, or any type of dark fantasy. Not until a gentle spring evening when his hat disappeared, and suddenly he couldn't remember the last four hours of his life. Now, the quiet university town of Atworthy is changing - slightly at first, then faster and more frighteningly each time he tries to remember.
Lowry is pursued by a dark, secret evil that is turning his whole world against him while it whispers a his forgotten scary story from the shadows: If you find your hat you'll find your four hours. If you find your four hours then you will die…Fear turns to terror...
“A true scare!” —Ray Bradbury
“What I’m writing is really psychological fantasies, on the order of L. Ron Hubbard’s Fear. Without Fear, I would never have come up with what I do.” —Philip K. Dick
L. Ron Hubbard
With 19 New York Times bestsellers and more than 350 million copies of his works in circulation, L. Ron Hubbard is among the most enduring and widely read authors of our time. As a leading light of American Pulp Fiction through the 1930s and '40s, he is further among the most influential authors of the modern age. Indeed, from Ray Bradbury to Stephen King, there is scarcely a master of imaginative tales who has not paid tribute to L. Ron Hubbard. Then too, of course, there is all L. Ron Hubbard represents as the Founder of Dianetics and Scientology and thus the only major religion born in the 20th century.
Read more from L. Ron Hubbard
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Reviews for Fear
85 ratings8 reviews
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I decided to give L. Ron Hubbard's Fear a second chance. I'd rated it at two stars from what I remembered of my original read years ago, but was discussing discussing the book in a forum (where it was getting generally positive reviews) and figured maybe I had jugded it to harshly in the past.Well, I finished it a second time, but the book didn't deserve a second read. It just isn't good. And that's too bad, because the plot idea is a good one. Archeologist Jim Lowry loses his hat and his memory of the last four hours. He discovers (or should I say he 'just knows') that if he finds his hat he will find his four hours, but if he finds his four hours he will die. Time to buy a new hat, I say...Unfortunately for that kernel of a terrific plot, Fear reads like it is the result of a jumble of ideas Ron had that he didn't bother linking into a cohesive tale. Events that happen in one chapter don't seem to have any sort of effect on what occurs in the next chapter. The story seems to just sort of randomly flow with very little rhyme or reason to it, one surreal event after another. Situations rise from out of nowhere. In a way, the book felt like what I imagine an extended acid trip would be like. That might be an accomplishment, but I don't think that is what L. Ron was setting out for.The writing is not good. L. Ron just didn't seem to have much feeling for the atmosphere required to tell a scary story. Rather than imply things to get under the reader's skin the way the best horror can, he would just use short sentences (the verbal equivalent to a jump cut in a bad horror movie) like Two red eyes stared back! (He has an over-reliance on exclamation points! in his narrative as well.) Also, anything Lowry discovers through the course of the story is something that 'he just knows for some reason' rather than anything that the character sifts out from the events unfolding around him.The stilted unbelievable characters act like nobody except people in bad pulp fiction or '50's sitcoms ever really acted. Jim Lowry and his wife of several years are portrayed as being desperately in love, yet they sleep in separate rooms. The characters don't have any depth or believability to them. I never cared about Lowry, his wife Mary or his beautiful (and this is emphasized repeatedly) friend Tommy (who is aside from being beautiful is also a professor of psychology, though he councils Jim not to go ridiculing the idea of demons and devils. He is also a bachelor at forty who seems to have no interest in women. Maybe he should practice some self analysis? Now that might have been an interesting angle for the story to persue). Since I never cared about the characters, I never had any apprehension as to what might happen to them.The self serving foreword and fawning introduction from the 'editors' of the book don't help any. (Though I guess if I had a messiah and s/he wrote a book, I'd probably be apt to oversell it as well.) Also, L. Ron's foreword acts as a spoiler of sorts to the book. I understand he wanted to tell me what an original, creative genius he was, but the should have placed his little note of explanation after the story, not before.I'd like to see some director take the basic setup of Fear and turn it into a movie. One of those movies where the title and general setup is the same but nothing else is. The core idea is a good one. The way it was executed in this book though, was bad.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fear, such a subjective thing, and yet, Hubbard manages here to, at times, make fear a shared and culumative experience. To those experienced in unbased terror, panic attacks, and sudden fits of horror brought on by seemingly nothing in our own reality, "Fear" will be a trip down a familiar lane. The main character, Mr. Lowry turns from a man who refutes the existence of demons and devils, to one who is reduced by the seeming manifestations of evil to a superstitious quivering non-effectual entity. Slowly the fear is faced and conquered, but to what end? Sanity returns but a new reality has beset Mr. Lowry! "Fear" is an entertaining ride, most assuredly, as I, as many have, I'm sure, read it in one sitting, which as we know, only the decent books are able to provide such a mode for concentrated energies. In the end, I felt like I had read a mystery novel that concluded evil, or more precisely invisible evil, meaning devils, in the end, manifest evil by temporal and natural mean.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A quaint old horror story where a professor who recently wrote an article against demons and devils finds he missing 4 hours--and his hat. The search for these leads him to have a couple of bad trips followed by a lot of paranoid delusions all leading to a climax that's a little of a letdown. Anyway it's short and it was free on Amazon so it's kind of fun for getting into the mood for Halloween.
(I hope by reading this I don't get on a Scientology mailing list now.) - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5My reaction to reading this story in 1998. Spoilers follow.“Foreword”, The Editors -- Puff piece by anonymous editors claiming that several, (among them Ray Bradbury, David Hartwell, and Stephen King, people claim this story as transforming the horror genre. Fear, L. Ron Hubbard -- I don’t know enough about the history of the horror genre to evaluate the Foreword’s claim that this work transformed the genre and laid the foundations for “contemporary horror”. However, I did like this surreal and paranoid tale of a man who has lost four hours of his life and is told by a mysterious stranger that if he finds his hat he will find the missing four hours and if he finds the missing hours he will loose his life. I can’t really say I’ve read anything like this before. At story’s end, it is revealed that he murdered his wife and an old friend. I’ve read other stories of amnesia blotting a character’s misdeeds from their mind and seen surreal paranoia stories on tv and in movies but not in this combination. I wouldn’t say the novel kept me absolutely riveted and paranoid, but I was interested and the last two chapters were very engaging. I liked Hubbard being deliberately ambiguous about protagonist Lowry being mad or possessed – I especially liked it when his skepticism crumbled and decided demonic forces are at work in the mind.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5En universitetsprofessor, Jim Lowry tror ikke på onde ånder og den slags. I starten af bogen vel at mærke. Pludselig bliver han udsat for fænomener, han ikke kan forklare og man forstår godt at det løber ham koldt ned ad ryggen. Det starter med at hans hat er væk og der er forsvundet fire timer for ham.Ganske velskreven gyser
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I started reading this just to try it and see what it was about. It was on the list for a Halloween group reading in which I was participating, but I planned to quickly abandon the book if I didn't like it.I really didn't think that it would be my cup of tea. I didn't expect to like it, even though the dust jacket contained glowing recommendations from Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, and Isaac Asimov -- all favorite writers of mine. The writing style seemed somehow odd to me, from the start. Other than the seemingly odd style (the nature of which I can't quite explain), the story seemed normal enough for the first chapter. Then it got really, really weird in a hurry. It was bizarre, it was unreal, it was madness . . .I couldn't put it down; read straight through to the end, way past midnight.I can't exactly say I enjoyed it, but I needed to see where the heck he was going with this crazy story. Then the ending really threw me for a loop, and I had to look back for a few minutes and try to re-think the story with the ending in mind.A quick, suspenseful read with a killer of a surprise ending.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fear is one of those mind-twisting kinds of books I like so much. Here, L. Ron Hubbard tells us the story of a college professor's decent in to hell after writing an article decrying the belief in supernatural evil. It turns out that his article brought him to the attention of some evil beings who want to teach him differently. This is not, of course, a comfortable experience. Hubbard's not one of my favorite writers, but Fear is quite good. His characters are interesting, and I really like the imagery he uses when he's leading us through the more surreal experiences. And his ending really stops the reader short and makes the whole book suddenly twist into something larger.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Stephen King considers this a classic but I just don't see it myself. Ray Bradbury called it "a true scare" but I didn't feel it. It was ok.
Book preview
Fear - L. Ron Hubbard
Also by
L. Ron Hubbard
Buckskin Brigades
The Conquest of Space
The Dangerous Dimension
Death’s Deputy
The End is Not Yet
Fear
Final Blackout
The Kilkenny Cats
The Mission Earth Dekalogy*
Volume 1: The Invaders Plan
Volume 2: Black Genesis
Volume 3: The Enemy Within
Volume 4: An Alien Affair
Volume 5: Fortune of Fear
Volume 6: Death Quest
Volume 7: Voyage of Vengeance
Volume 8: Disaster
Volume 9: Villainy Victorious
Volume 10: The Doomed Planet
Ole Doc Methuselah
Slaves of Sleep & The Masters of Sleep
To the Stars
Triton
Typewriter in the Sky
The Ultimate Adventure
* Dekalogy—a group of ten volumes
For more information on L. Ron Hubbard and his many works of fiction visit www.GalaxyPress.com.
TitlePgArt.jpgGalaxy Press, Inc.
7051 Hollywood Boulevard
Hollywood, CA 90028
FEAR
© 1940, 1991, 1992, 1995, 2000 L. Ron Hubbard Library. All Rights Reserved.
Any unauthorized copying, translation, duplication, importation or distribution, in whole or in part, by any means, including electronic copying, storage or transmission, is a violation of applicable laws.
The words MISSION EARTH and WRITERS OF THE FUTURE are
registered trademarks owned by L. Ron Hubbard Library.
BATTLEFIELD EARTH is a registered trademark owned by
Author Services, Inc., and is used with its permission.
Cover design by Peter Green Design and Mike Manoogian
© 1998 Galaxy Press All Rights Reserved
E-Book ISBN 978-1-59212-559-3
Kindle ISBN 978-1-59212-085-7
Contents
Foreword
Author's Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Glossary
About the Author
Foreword
Once in a while an editor sees a story that is so finely crafted that it provides immeasurable pleasure to bring it before the reader. Fear is just such a work, and more, for it not only has great reader appeal, it uniformly inspires awe in top authors themselves. From Ray Bradbury to Isaac Asimov, it has earned rare praise as an unforgettable, timeless classic.
Written more than fifty years ago, the story has not only withstood the test of time, but additionally, it is credited by literary historians, such as David Hartwell, for transforming and creating the foundations of the contemporary horror genre.
Legend, too, has a habit of springing up around great works. Robert Heinlein, a close friend of L. Ron Hubbard, was fond of relating the story of how Fear was written on a single train ride from New York to Seattle.
But it is the impact on the reader that is the singular, most important test of any work. Fear delivers.
Stephen King, without question today’s master of the horror genre, says it best when he looks back at the accomplishment represented by Fear:
L. Ron Hubbard’s Fear is one of the few books in the chiller genre which actually merits employment of the overworked adjective classic,
as in This is a classic tale of creeping, surreal menace and horror.
If you’re not averse to a case of the cold chills—a rather bad one—and you’ve never read Fear, I urge you to do so. Don’t even wait for a dark and stormy night. This is one of the really, really good ones.
In that, he is not alone. Whether read today or reread fifty years from today, the chilling impact will never fade.
Why is this?
L. Ron Hubbard did something no other author had ever successfully done. Without the use of supernatural contrivance—werewolves, vampires; without resorting to extreme venues—the haunted house-on-the-hill, the cellar lab, the strange planet; and without using super-psychotic protagonists—Freddy Kruger, Norman Bates; he took an ordinary man, in a very ordinary circumstance and descended him into a completely plausible but extraordinary hell.
Why is Fear so powerful? Because it really could happen. And that is terrifying.
That simple premise has garnered more accolades than a thousand books of wolves howling to a pale moon on a dark and stormy night.
So, if you’re not afraid of the ordinary, this story is for you.
But, don’t say we didn’t warn you…
THE EDITORS
Author’s Introduction
There is one thing which I wish the reader could keep in mind throughout, and that is: this story is wholly logical, for all that will appear to the contrary. It is not a very nice story, nor should it be read alone at midnight—for it is true that any man might have the following happen to him. Even you, today, might lose four hours from your life and follow, then, in the course of James Lowry.
— L. Ron Hubbard
Chapter One
Lurking, that lovely spring day, in the office of Dr. Chalmers, Atworthy College Medical Clinic, there might have been two small spirits of the air, pressed back into the dark shadow behind the door, avoiding as far as possible the warm sunlight which fell gently upon the rug.
Professor Lowry, buttoning his shirt, said, So I am good for another year, am I?
For another thirty-eight years,
smiled Dr. Chalmers. "A fellow with a rugged build like yours doesn’t have to worry much about a thing like malaria. Not even the best variety of bug Yucatán could offer. You’ll have a few chills, of course, but nothing to worry about. By the way, when are you going back to Mexico?"
If I go when my wife gives me leave, that’ll be never.
And if I had a woman as lovely as your wife, Mary,
said Chalmers, Yucatán could go give its malaria to somebody else. Oh, well
—and he tried to make himself believe he was not, after all, envious of Atworthy’s wandering ethnologist—I never could see what you fellows saw in strange lands and places.
Facts,
said Lowry.
"Yes, I suppose. Facts about primitive sacrifice and demons and devils— Say, by the way, that was a very nice article you had in the Newspaper Weekly last Sunday."
The door moved slightly, though it might have been caused by the cool breath of verdure which came in the window.
Thank you,
said Lowry, trying not to look too pleased.
Of course,
said young Chalmers, you were rather sticking out your neck. You had your friend Tommy frothing about such insolence. He’s very fond of his demons and devils, you know.
He likes to pose,
said Lowry. But how do you mean, ‘sticking out my neck’?
You haven’t been here much under Jebson,
said Chalmers. "He nearly crucified a young mathematician for using Atworthy’s name in a scientific magazine. But then, maybe our beloved president didn’t see it. Can’t imagine the old stuffed shirt reading the Newspaper Weekly, anyway."
Oh,
said Lowry. I thought you meant about my denying the existence of such things. Tommy—
Well, maybe I meant that, too,
said Chalmers. I guess we’re all superstitious savages at heart. And when you come out in boldface type and ridicule ancient belief that demons caused sickness and woe and when you throw dirt, so to speak, in the faces of luck and fate, you must be very, very sure of yourself.
Why shouldn’t I be sure of myself?
said Lowry, smiling. Did anyone ever meet a spirit of any sort face to face? I mean, of course, that there aren’t any authenticated cases on record anywhere.
Not even,
said Chalmers, the visions of saints?
Anyone who starves himself long enough can see visions.
Still,
said Chalmers, when you offer so wildly to present your head in a basket to the man who can show you a sure-enough demon—
And my head in a basket he shall have,
said Lowry. For a man of science, you talk very weirdly, old fellow.
I have been in a psychiatric ward often enough,
said Chalmers. At first I used to think it was the patient and then, after a while, I began to wonder. You know, demons are supposed to come out with the full moon. Ever watch a whole psychopathic ward go stark raving mad during the three days that a moon is full?
Nonsense.
Perhaps.
Chalmers, I tried, in that article, to show how people began to believe in supernatural agencies and how scientific explanation has at last superseded vague terror. Now don’t come along and tell me that you can cast some doubt on those findings.
Oh
—and Chalmers began to laugh—we both know that ‘truth’ is an abstract quantity that probably doesn’t exist. Go crusading against your devils and your demons, Professor Lowry. And if they get mad at you, argue them out of existence. I myself don’t say they exist. It merely strikes me strangely that man’s lot could be so consistently unhappy without something somewhere aiding in that misery. And if it is because electrons vibrate at certain speeds, or if it is because the spirits of air and earth and water are jealous of any comfort and happiness that man might have, I neither know nor care. But how comforting it is to knock on wood when one has made a brag.
And so,
said Lowry, slipping into his topcoat, the goblins are gonna get me if I don’t watch out.
They’ll get you all right if Jebson saw that article,
said Chalmers.
The door moved ever so little—but then, perhaps it was just the cool, sweet breath of spring whispering through the window.
Lowry, swinging his stick, went out into the sunlight. It felt good to be home. The place looked and smelled good, too. For beyond the change of the seasons, there was never any difference in this town, never any real difference in the students; and when the college built a new building, why, it always looked somehow old and mellow before it was half completed. There was a sleepy sameness to the place which was soothing to one whose eyes had been so long tortured by the searing glare of spinning sun on brassy sand.
As he walked along toward his office he asked himself why he ever left this place at all. These great elms, putting forth their buds, yawning students stretched out upon the fresh green grass, colorful jackets, a mild blue sky, ancient stones and budding ivy.…
For the briefest flicker he half recalled the birth of his own wanderlust. A theft in his dorm, accusation, expulsion and disgrace; and three years later—three years too late to completely remove the scar—they had finally reached him to tell him that the guilty one had been found within a week after his running away. Remembering, he again felt that seep of shame through him and the shy idea that he should apologize to the first one he met.
But it passed. It passed and the air was full of spring and hope and the smell of moist earth. Clouds, hard driven high up, occasionally flashed shadows over the pavement and lawns; the breeze close to earth frisked with the remnants of autumn, chasing leaves out of corners and across lawns and against trees, bidding them vanish and make way for a new harvest later on.
No, little ever changed in this quiet and contented mecca of education. Twenty-five years ago Franklin Lowry, his father, strolled down this same street; twenty-five years before that Ezekiel Lowry had done so. And each had done so not once but on almost every day of his mature life and then, dead, had been carried in a hearse along this way. Only James Lowry had varied such a tradition and that only slightly, but then James Lowry, in his quiet but often stubborn way, had varied many traditions. He had been the first Lowry to even start to stain that scholastic name, and he was certainly the first Lowry with the wanderlust. But then he had been a strange child; not difficult, but strange nonetheless.
Reared in a great tomb of a house where no word was less than three syllables long and where the main attention paid to him was Hush!
James Lowry had, perforce, built a universe of his own from the delicate stuff of dreams. If he cared to look in that old dean of a mansion, he knew he could find his boyhood companions tucked out of sight below the planks which covered the attic floor with indifference: Swift, Tennyson, Carroll, Verne, Dumas, Gibbon, Colonel Ingraham, Shakespeare, Homer, Khayyám and the unknown creators of myth