Excerpt From The Ancestral Children — Rogue Guardian Spirit
As he roamed about after leaving town, Ronald was in hot pursuit of a new life with meaning. Though he couldn’t understand why, he instinctively bought a journal to document his feelings, and certain happenings as he mourned. The anger, rage and hurt feelings proved to be his match as he struggled to come to terms with everything in his life that had led up to this very moment. With tattered clothing and growing facial hair, something in the air had attracted his attention. This was something that he’s never felt before but it was perfectly familiar. It was extremely threatening, but paradoxically benign. It was so powerful that it temporarily took his mind off of his losses. Strangely enough, it also brought him a substantial amount of peace…
Not far away from Ronald’s temporary stop, a quiet, upscale community was overtaken late one Friday evening by dozens of flashing lights from police cars and ambulances. Concerned neighbors got as close to the scene as possible to at least begin to understand what had transpired. The paramedics were carting bodies with blood-soaked sheets covering them outside of a home one after the other. The mobile CB radio chatter was drowned out by those who worked the scene and the neighbors who awaited explanations. Two of the uniformed officers who kept the perimeter secured raised the tape for lead detective Curtis Browning as he arrived.
“Ingalls, what do we have going on,” asked the no nonsense detective as he was approached by the young officer.
“Sir, it’s just like what happened at the Peter’s. Everyone in the house is dead except for one. He had a shotgun lying at his feet when we arrived and was staring off into space murmuring.”
“What the hell do we have on our hands?” Detective Browning asked rhetorically as he proceeded into the house.
When he walked inside, he immediately observed the mayhem in the living room. The coffee table had been turned over. Blood stains smeared by hands attempting to evade death. Lamps had been broken, the walls had several holes busted into them and several broken champagne bottles rested on the floor.
“Sir, do you want to tell us what happened here?” Browning asked.
The man quivered and shook violently as he pointed at the wall behind the detective with a shaky hand. Browning turned around and read a message written in the blood of the victims on the wall just above a whisper.
“You all will atone!”