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Hell Hath No Fury
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” the man said, leaning back against the seat in the box.
On the other side, he could hear the father’s deep breathing. The priest knew the sound of his voice. Always, he would come here to confess his sins. And always, when he went out, these sins drew him back in. The sin of defilement, of both his body and that of others. He was tired of it.“Speak, son,” the priest replied.The man, Conrad, sighed. His lips were heavy, laden with the imminent confession of a sin that he was ashamed of, a sin that he was guilty of. This sin tormented him, made him feel less of himself, filthy, dirty, and without salvation. But the word if God stood sure. That was his only saving grace. If he confessed his sins and forsook them, he would be forgiven.“I confess my sins every time I get the chance,” he began. “Still, every day, I go out and I am faced with these sins once again. I am tiredRelated chapters
Death's Day Footsteps in The Dark
The day passed slowly, and Jason sat on the bed, staring dully at his brothers. They still could not see him or feel him, or even sense him. They did not talk about him, but he could see in the tenseness in their bodies that they knew something was wrong. It was almost a whole day since Jason was gone, and he was not yet back, not according to his brothers anyway. “Do you think he is okay?” Jack asked. His voice broke Jason’s heart. The twins were not yet supposed to be on their own. The three of them were not yet supposed to be on their own. Nothing that was happening here was normal. Not the ascian, not his own disappearance, not the eerie howling of the wind outside, which was making the twins even more frightened. They had not left the room since he got there. You want to talk to them, don’t you? The voice was annoying, mocking him. He knew there was nothing he could do to get back at the owner of the voice. Whoever it was, was far more powerful than anyt
Death's Day PROLOGUE: LONG, LONG NIGHT
The shadows melted into one another as he walked along the pathway, swimming like entrails, in and out of themselves. There was a way the being walked, for he was not exactly a man; he glided along the road, his feet barely touching the ground. There was gloom in his movement, measured gloom as if he had a purpose to bring exactly that wherever he went. Perhaps his human nature or the lack of it would have been seen had it been his face was not covered with the hood of an old, dark cloak. He was silent. Presently, he stopped before a railway track and waited. The wind gathered momentum and pulled the trees behind him the way a passionate lover pulls the hair of his partner in the heat of a sexual moment.In the distance, far from where he stood, the sound of a train crawling along the railway could be heard, a millipede on all legs.“Do you think she will be happy to see us?” Greg asked the elderly woman by his side. The woman ha
Death's Day Jason
If there was one thing Jason hated in his life, it was suffering and poverty. Most of the time he was tempted to go to his parents’ grave to dig them out; he had only one question in his mind for them: why give birth to children you knew fully well you could not take of? It burned in his mind, ate him up in his dreams, this question. His waking moments were filled with worry. Living in Daltom, a town that seemed to be in a perpetual cycle of poverty and the dreams of breaking out of it was hell. It was like there was a blanket pulled over his head, a blanket that kept him static in life, and for good reason: he had three brothers he had to take care of and they all looked up to him as if he was the one that had sex with their mother. Once he had told Harry, his friend and partner at the eatery where he worked, “how can people not think before they have sex? What exactly is on their mind?” But his friend would not buy into his ideology. “Would yo
Death's Day It Begins
Jason was in the room allocated to him and his siblings, wondering what to do while his uncle continued ranting just outside the room. Jason knew how it often ended. Daltom had a strong, superstitious community, and since both of his parents died, the locals wanted nothing to do with his. His eyes, one blue, and the other a light brown, was part of the reason he was seen as a wierdo.“I’m calling the cops on you, boy!” he screamed. “I’m calling the cops on you for assault. You dare hit me.”People gathered in sympathy. They screamed at the fresh wounds on his face where Jason had left the mark of his rage.“Damn, Mr. Michael, you’ve got bruises all over your face. Who did this to you?” It was the fat man Jason rarely greeted, the man whose eyes would always follow him whenever he returned from work. He recognized the voice and hated it.“Tha
Death's Day The Grim Courting
There was so much hate in Annabel’s eyes as she watched the priest leading her family in prayer. His eyes were shut, his face a cherubic expression of worship and holiness, while his hands were raised to the sky. He was her nightmare, but she was still too afraid to narrate this particular nightmare to her parents. Her parents and two brothers had their eyes shut too and were singing with their deep-throated. She hated the song and the singer.It was the expression in her mother’s face that she hated the most. It was that of trust and total surrender. She would never believe anything that she would say about this man, the priest, not when the cross was hung all over their houses at intervals. It was terrible, but her own family was afraid of her, of what she could do.Annabel shut her eyes and joined in the song; this was torture, but who would believe her if she told them their emblem of holiness was, in fact, the devil himself? She could imagine her
Death's Day Broken
“You and I are not very different,” the shadowless human said. He was waiting outside the eatery where Jason worked, as if he was a friend Jason walked home with. Jason had become wary of him since he set his eyes on him the first time. He was the only one who could see him. The locals believed that it was only spirits who moved about without shadows. Stories had been told about shadowless creatures and haunted houses. He suspected that he was running mad and had to avoid this new acquaintance at every cost. He ignored the creature and kept walking, hoping that in ignoring him, he would leave him alone.“One of the men you made to choke the other day has died at the hospital. Guess which people are accused of killing him with witchcraft,” the man said again and Jason’s heart skipped a bit.“What are you saying?” he asked, turning to the man.“Nothi
Death's Day Getting Even
The priest slapped her backside as she walked past the desk again. She was wearing a black gown, the longest gown her mother bought for her. It was big on her, but still her behind was hardly hidden beneath it, at least not for the priest. Annabel did not bother turning to look at him because she knew she would find that stupid grin on his face. She could not now remember how many times she wished she had the power to wipe that grin off his face in the most painfully shocking way possible.“Go and lock the door, so your confession can begin,” the man said with an air of one who knew he would not be disobeyed.Annabel walked towards the door. At first she moved slowly, like someone hesitant on a course of action, then she locked the door with firm and sure moves, neither fast nor slow. When she turned towards the priest, there was this daring look on her face that got the priest frightened for all of ten seconds before he finally convinced himself that the g
Death's Day Coming home to roost
Marcus, the blacksmith, had known from the moment he saw the boy that he was not okay. How could someone lose both parents on the same day, and go about gloomily ever since? Sometimes, he even saw the boy muttering to himself as he walked along. What kind of child does not join boys his age to play? What kind of boy does not join in jokes with boys his age, but would rather be inside that small room of theirs with his brothers making plans on how to kill his uncle and probably destroy the whole neighborhood? Yes, they were making plans. That was what he would call it because children played. Most importantly, what kind of child appeared in the dreams of not one, not two, but many locals here? The boy was always a frightening feature in dreams, and Marcus just could not deal with that. He was a deeply superstitious man. Marcus was beyond convinced now that the boy was possessed with something. Maybe he was a witch. If not, how could he have known
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