1 – When is there a right time to become something you have never been before, somebody unrecognisable to those around you, even to yourself, a thing those you love will no longer be able to lay a hand on? Something unimaginable.
Local gardener Ben Hunter has been bottling up his wrath for as long as he can remember, trying not to think too much about all the horrors going on in the world, especially those going on so close to his own back-yard that he could spit and hit them, because Ben knows if he ever gets started, that’ll be the end of normality for him, the end of life as he knows it, and then what will become of his adored niece, Lizzy, his sister, his friends, especially Fionn, the only priest he’s ever really trusted?
Ben Hunter sank his long-handled axe into the felled tree on his allotment before setting himself down for a quiet smoke. Last night’s sleet had lifted away. A kind March sun beat down on his face, casting a shadow under the hooked nose that had earned him the nickname “Hawk” around the estate. His little niece, Lizzy, was gathering up the bramble clippings and blown down twigs from the February gales, plus any cheeky weeds he’d plucked out of the leek beds, and was stacking them haphazardly for burning.
“What a grafter, our Lizzy. I could do wi’ ten like you.”
He watched her grappling happily with the wheelbarrow she could only just see over, saying “oof” to herself at intervals.
Down in the new church, Ben’s friend and confidant Fionn Malloy has his own demons to deal with. Lately he has been doubting the God he swore allegiance to, doubting there’ll ever be justice in this world or even the next, for those who cop for the shitty end of every cruel or greedy bastard’s stick. But then the angel who beckons him to the crumbling old church on the moor assures him that he’s part of a bigger plan, that there’s work to do, right now. Maybe Armageddon is closer than he thinks.
But desecrating an ancient graveyard can dig up all kinds of trouble; trouble that one faith-shaken priest is about to let loose on the world.
“…Kelly is the mother of a ten-month-old daughter, who has been temporarily taken into care. Police are appealing for witnesses who may have seen Kelly that day, or since, to come forward. Saint Valentine ’s Day was subject to a particularly heavy thunderstorm, so it’s believed Kelly may have taken shelter somewhere…”
“A rainy day for you, Kelly, wasn’t it, sweetheart? Let’s not kid ourselves we’ll be seeing you any time soon.”
The screen was full of the football highlights by the time Fionn snapped back. The sight of men kicking a ball about for big bucks might not normally have irked him quite so much, but on the back of the ruined, abandoned, and probably dumped in a ditch Kelly, those bozos bothered him a great deal. And once again, he found himself slumped alone in an armchair at sunrise, plastered as green-stick fracture, growling his frustrations up to an indifferent ceiling.
Damned Rite: MELT, a horror novel.
Amazon Bestseller in Literature & Fiction British Horror http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QVLEQJ8
Damned Rite: Melt Novel website: http://janinewood2012.wix.com/melt—horror-novel
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