TITLE: THE SECOND SIGN
GENRE: YA Supernatural Thriller
The floorboards creaked under the Intruder as he walked up the aisle of the small church. Moving shadows crept along the walls, brought to life by the flickering candles that rimmed the nave. Looming carved pieces, depicting the last moments of the prophet vital to this particular religions history, hung between front windows. The deity's name didn't matter, known as many different names in the world. What mattered was that people believed.
Belief was power.
The Intruder sauntered towards the altar, a hint of incense in the air. A stone baptismal fountain lay on the floor to his left, large enough to bathe a child or drown one depending on your intent. His eyes settled on the iconic figure crucified and displayed for all to see. He found a moments peace gazing up at the idolized portrayal of death. Crucifixion was a martyr's death, instilling fear in those that witnessed it. Fear begets conformity in all creatures. The intruder looked down at his own palms, tracing his own scars with his thumb. There were many ways to kill a man. And only one way to kill a soul.
Genuflecting, he crossed himself as was the customary fashion, then slid into a pew and leaned forward, his head bowed in reverence. He no longer prayed, had forgotten how over the many centuries. Memories were blurred in his mind, unable to remember his true name. The reference of time held no meaning for him. Nothing mattered but peace of mind.