Free The Book of Paul -- A Paranormal Thriller by Richard Long

an ogre-sized hand on his tiny shoulder. “Is it a bad thing when you shoot all those greasy, filthy rats in the dump?”
    “I guess not,” Martin mumbled, glancing back up into Daddy’s stern, yet kind eyes.
    “So what did the boy do after he cut the rope on his ankle?”
    “He tip-toed up to her while she was sleeping and stabbed her in the chest over and over until she wasn’t breathing anymore,” Martin said, his face pale and queasy.
    “And then?” Paul smiled.
    “Then he was free!” Martin shouted, beaming again.
    “Yes, he was FREE!” Paul shouted even louder, slapping his skinny back with pride. “He ran all night along the riverbed, his skin glowing under the moon. Yet all the while he sensed a presence chasing after him, a dark shadow overhead. Could it be the old hag, back from the dead and seeking her revenge? Still running, he looked into the clear night sky to see what flew above him, but it was only the shadows of the moon as he ran through the trees. Alas, when he turned his head, he tripped over his feet, stumbling into the water and sinking like a stone into a deep, dark pool.
    “He floated down, down, down, deeper and deeper. He knew he was drowning and all was lost, but his life had been so miserable it didn’t matter anymore. A wonderful sense of calm and fearlessness came over him as the darkness swallowed him completely. And so he closed his eyes, surrendering to his fate.
    “But when he closed his eyes he saw the most miraculous sight, Instead of blackness, he was suddenly bathed in a shimmering bluish-white light, like the moon was shining before he fell. Only this light was so much brighter! It felt warm as it approached, engulfing him completely like the deep, black pool. He opened his eyes, certain he would see only darkness around him again, but the light was even brighter and warmer, taking the form of a miraculous creature. It was easily three time his size, a human shape, neither male nor female, with a face more beautiful than any he could have imagined.”
    “It was the angel,” Martin whispered, his voice filled with awe, his eyes closed tightly. The image was so clear in his mind it seemed to be floating right in front of him.
    “Yes, the angel,” Paul whispered, stroking Martin’s white-blond hair. “It floated wordlessly above him and the boy wondered if they were still in the water or flying in the air. As soon as he thought about flying, the angel transformed itself into a handsome man with long white hair and enormous, white-feathered wings that beat soundlessly in the radiant light.
    “‘Come with me,’ the angel said, reaching for the boy’s hand. His voice was so kind and loving that the boy felt like crying, so touched was he after so many years of neglect and abuse. When the boy grasped the angel’s hand, he was shocked to discover his grip was as solid as his own. The angel was real! A surge of power flowed into him through the angel’s hand. It was so formidable he felt like he could do anything! Grow wings! Fly all by himself! His heart pounded with excitement as they floated together, the angel’s radiance shining so intensely it transformed the entire world around them.
    “What a magnificent world it was! Even more incredible than the luminous being who shepherded him onward. They were flying over an island more lush and splendid than the green isle of his birth, more beautiful than anything he’d seen in his most fantastic dreams. There were palaces and temples everywhere he looked, bathed in a warm, golden light that came from within. The beautiful buildings were surrounded by waterfalls and green gardens with flowers of every color, and ripe succulent fruit that weighed down every branch. Some of the palaces floated like smaller islands in the sky. Some rose atop mountains in a mist. On the terraces of every building were more amazing creatures like the one who guided him. Some had wings—others were still more incredible, changing shapes