by Lex Sinclair
Behind the spectacle that Michael was declaring to the cult and soon to the whole world, Janice and Reverend Rodney Ward took hold of the lifeless, bloodied body of a girl who’d been as close to an angel on earth as anyone ever could and hurled it into the raging bonfire.
Crouching down on the fringe of the forest, Allan and Ritchie stared in absolute horror at what they’d seen. Allan had been transfixed by pure, uncontrollable terror. His eyes, reflecting the roaring flames, burned with brimming tears that streamed down his face and dropped off his quivering jaw. His heart felt like a mechanic fist relentlessly punching through the bars of his ribcage, his breath wheezing out of him like a kettle.
That trepidation evolved into something that he couldn’t describe in words when the crowd of black robed figures all pivoted simultaneously and stared fixedly at the father and son paralysed with fear.
‘Run!’ Allan whimpered, as he heard the sound of hundreds of footfalls racing across the pasture towards them, gaining...
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