Pastor Bill Hanlin turns away from his faith the day God turned His back on him. As the balance of power between good and evil shifts, shadows hover pass sunset. A murder of crows tries to drive him off the road. And when a stranger, only few can see, turns out to be a demonic being, Bill realizes maybe he’s to blame.
Old journals, left by previous church pastors, reveal the secret to Somerville—the town established as a refuge for hurting Christians. Bill’s denial of God has fractured the protective shield placed on the town. As the cracks widen, the evil episodes become more frequent. Soon Bill realizes he needs to step up and become the man of God his town needs him to be.
As Bill stands firm, willing to return to his roots, he finds a truth that could destroy him. He must decide whether to look past hurts and recommit to his faith, or turn his back on God for good and allow the darkness to prevail.
ANGEL ON THE WALL is a spiritual thriller complete at 70,000 words.
I hold a degree in theology and lived the life of a pastoral team for ten years with my husband. I have won contests with previous pieces as well work as a freelance writer.
When he awoke this morning, the day held promise. After driving into the city to pick up donations for his charity, Bill planned to meet some old friends at Moxie’s for lunch. Armed with a mug of strong black coffee, he settled in for the drive to the city, but realized too late the directions to the warehouse were back at home. Having missed not only his appointment for the donations, but as well his lunch date, Bill found himself driving mindlessly for hours hoping to see a familiar landmark. Instead what he found caused him to flee in desperation.
The business sector Bill found himself lost in was full of dark and dingy alleys, surrounded by graffiti covered warehouses. Overflowing garbage bins, and cardboard box houses which lined the sidewalks cluttered the streets that he traveled. Double locking his doors, Bill drove carefully through the streets in search of the warehouse he was seeking. After a mindless tour of what had to be considered the ghetto district, he found himself with the options of two dead-end streets, one on his left and the other on his right. Straight ahead a deserted street had been blocked off by yellow police tape. He turned towards the right in hopes of being able to turn around and continue his search.
As he slowly drove down the dead-end street looking for a side entrance he could pull into, Bill noticed a man lying on his side, covered in blood. He pulled over and he ran to the man, trying to assess any damages as well as any danger that could possibly be still lurking in the area.
Kneeling down, carefully of not placing himself in contact with the blood on the ground, Bill gently eased the twisted body onto the cold cement road and tried to find a pulse. With his focus solely on the man, he didn’t notice as an arm reach out and grasp his elbow.
Startled, Bill jerked his body backwards while gasping for breath.
“Paper.” The injured man barely managed to whisper.
“Pa…per.” The man whispered again while trying to lift his upper body off the ground. His hand was still attached to Bill’s elbow but was slowly losing its grip.
Bill just looked at the man unsure of what to do. The man was unconscious and as he sagged back to the ground, Bill pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, urging the dispatcher to have the ambulance arrive as soon as possible.
The grip on Bill’s elbow loosened and the hand fell away. Curled up in the palm was a torn piece of paper. The paper, crudely folded, revealed a set of numbers and a phrase that made little sense. Not thinking anything of it, Bill casually placed the paper in his jeans pocket and focused on the man before him.
The ETA from the ambulance was five minutes. Bill looked at the area around him. He was standing in a narrow alley that ended at a brick wall. He noticed a slight opening at the right side of the wall, perhaps another narrow alley, Bill surmised. Litter covered the ground, papers, magazines, newspapers, cans and empty fast food containers. There were no doors in the alley, and nothing to indicate how the man came to this place, or why he was in this condition.