Fiction that explores the monsters and strangers among us.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Beginning Part 2

A prelude to my novel Fulfillment


Back inside the safety of the glowing light of an oil lamp and the lingering warmth of a fading cooking fire, Mary found her mother wiping the last of the plates.

“Where’s your dish, Mary?” Mother asked.

“Oh, I must have dropped it outside with the food. May I take Big Ears with me, Mother?”

“Mary, you’re such a child! Joseph wants a wife, not a pet.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him. I think he likes dogs.”

“How would you know a thing like that?”

“I don’t really. I just said that I think he likes dogs. It’s what I think and what I hope. I will miss Big Ears if I can’t take him with me, Mother.”

“You’re not planning to take me along with you, too, are you?”

“Oh, Mother, of course not! You’re too old and besides, Daddy needs you here.”

“Thanks a lot, pal. Perhaps Daddy needs Big Ears. Somebody has to eat the scraps and I suppose lick the plates if you don’t run outside this instant and retrieve that plate, my young one.”

“Yes, mother. Where is Daddy, anyway?”

“He’s sleeping. He’s had a rough day and needs his rest. He’s not as young as he used to be. So you’ll be quiet, won’t you, dear?”

“Of course, Mother.”

As Mary started for the back door of the cottage, there was a loud rush of wind and the cooking fire flared up with a whoosh.

“Mother, what was that?”

“It’s probably just the wind. Perhaps a storm is on the way. We could use the rain.”

“It didn’t sound like any wind I ever heard,” Mary responded.

“Oh, Mary, the things you think about! Go get that plate, now. I’m waiting.”

Mary returned to the yard and snatched up the plate. Was that a giant moonlit shadow she saw crossing the stone wall behind her house again? Mary gasped for breath and then ran in.

“Mother, Big Ears never came for his supper. Do you suppose something could have happened to him?”

“Don’t be a worry-wart, child. He’s probably visiting his fiancĂ©. Dogs get married too, sometimes.”

“No they don’t. They just pretend they’re married and make puppies.”


“Well, it’s true.”

“You’re far too young to speak of such things.”

“I’m engaged to be married. I have to know about these things!”

“I suppose, but you’re still a little girl to me.”


“I know, dear. Time flies on eagle’s wings while here below, we just get older.”

“I’m going to my room now, Mother.”

“Give your mother a kiss before you go.”

“Yes, Mother.”

As Mary turned away from kissing her mother’s cheek, she heard a loud, hissing snake-like voice, “Marrrry, I amm heeee whoooo destroyssss you. I am he who rulesssss.”

Mary turned back to her mother and asked, “What was that?”

“What was what,” Mother replied.

“That horrible voice.”

“What voice?”

Mary awoke in her bed. How long have I been asleep?


The story continues in my novel Fulfillment

Satan had no idea who he was messing with.
Mary wasn’t your ordinary unmarried pregnant teenager. This kid had moxie and connections in extremely high places.

In Fulfillment, the secret concerning the baby in Mary’s womb attracts evil spirits, a woman-hating ancient Israeli monster named Lilith, a king, soldiers and a would-be lover all bent on destroying her. Mary’s journey, while steeped with betrayal and the foul stench of the ultimate demon, is a setup for an even bigger story. She discovers a lost love found, the promise of a newborn king, and a wealth of new friends from a dwarf with the heart of a warrior to the young mother who loses her husband and children in a bloody massacre. Laugh, cry and gain new insights into the Christmas story as you read Fulfillment.

“The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth so that he might devour her child the moment it was born.”
Revelation 12:4b

Click here to choose the paperback or Kindle version.

Paperback copies make excellent Christmas presents, especially for those who enjoy an original horror story. Tell them it's like Stephen King or Frank Peretti visiting the first century.

Click here to visit my author page on Amazon.

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