Prologue Part One

The Preacher stopped at the door to put his coat on before heading out into the rain, stopping only to kiss his wife and daughter goodbye. The night was young and he desperately needed to finish his sermon for the morning. Procrastination was still thick in his young blood. Fresh out of Michigan Theological Seminary, he had only been pastor for a few months. For most young men, pastoring the church you grew up in would be too difficult but he happily accepted the challenge. He pushed his sandpaper hair out of his eyes as he sprinted out into the torrents; another late night of studying should do him well. The past few weeks had been rough with the church people. They seemed untouched by his message and immune to his passion. Determined to endure, he was working on a series of sermons that would shake the church and the town as a whole. He was almost finished writing the new series and was extremely anxious to begin what he firmly believed would be a new revival in the town.

Even as a boy the idea of changing the attitude of a people was always in his mind. He was able to sway his classmates to like one thing or another just by his words. In middle school, he was notorious for single handedly causing the ban of some kind of trading card game after he devised a way to gamble with it. His mother quickly noticed how many quarters he was walking around with and immediately took control of the situation. Proudly he knew that he could change things. What comes with that, however, is also the ability to form those words into spears, knives, and daggers. He cast them into the hearts of whomever he wanted. Many broken hearts and grudges lay in his past. Every few weeks he would have a sleepless night filled with regret, often drowning that in strong coffee and tears. His wife was well aware of her husband’s past and pains but she did nothing. Behind each sermon, visit, or kind word was a demon weighing on his heart. As far as he knew, everyone else had moved on. Very rarely did residents of Crescent stay for the college years and beyond. Only a select few families remained as the foundation for the small town.

All of these thoughts of himself echoed in the young man’s head as he finally arrived at the church. After battling the wind and rain he finally made it into the comfort of his office. The hum of the heater and the feeling of a Bible in his hands calmed him down. A pot of coffee was brewing just a minute after he walked in the door and he poured himself a cup before heading to the desk. Just as he sat down, the phone began to ring. Unmotivated to deal with any late night problems during such a storm, he ignored the call, letting it go to voicemail. Whoever it was didn’t need anything important because no message was left. He thought to himself that it was probably just another telemarketer trying to sell insurance or a new phone contract. Pushing the ideas out of his mind, he took a moment to pray and get his mind in the concentrated mood needed to truly study for Sunday morning. As if on cue, there was a knock on the office door as soon as he finished praying. It was times like these he regretted not sealing up the door to the outside and just keeping the one to the church sanctuary. People passing through would often stop and talk or ask for handouts during the day. He would not be surprised if this was the case with the heavy storm in full force.

When he opened the door, there was no one there. No cars in the parking lot, not even a light on anywhere nearby. A small package set on the curb caught his eye and he cautiously picked it up before stuffing it in his pocket and hurrying back inside. This time when he stepped inside he took a final look behind him and locked the door. He returned to his chair and put the small box in his lap. It was misshapen and wrapped in canvas. In fact, it was hardly a box at all. Taking his time to unwrap it, removing the canvas revealed a small figuring. It was a horse, a pale green horse. He jumped out of his seat as the phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered with a quivering voice.

“Hello preacher,” A warped voice on the line. He immediately knew something was off. No one called without introducing themselves, and no one called without a sense of urgency in their voice. This voice was calm, collected. “Tell me, what would happen if your faith were tested? If your world was shaken or your life in danger?” The last phrase made his heart hit the floor. What was this man threatening him? He wouldn’t let some stranger shake him.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but I’m not biting. My faith will stay strong no matter what. God will always help me.” He spoke with confidence and authority. He felt as though he was already handling this situation well, knowing that people test pastors every day and always threaten them.

“Interesting, preacher. That is exactly what your wife said when I asked her. Elizabeth, such a sweet voice to go with a sweet name.”

“I’m going to call the police now.” The Preacher replied. He had gotten up and put his coat on quickly, ready to rush out the door.

“And your daughter, such a nice girl. Rose is such a delicate piece of creation. You must be so proud to have had such a great family.” What did he just say? Had? What does that even mean? He quickly hung up the phone and sprinted out the door. He didn’t bother locking the door or turning off the lights.

The drive home was like a dream. He didn’t let off the gas or brake at red lights. He felt as though his entire world was collapsing around him. The one advantage of a small town is that a man cannot drive as fast as he was and not be noticed by the police. By the time he reached his driveway, there were three patrol cars behind him with the lights on. He fell out of the car into the rain and stumbled to his front door, only to find it open. He stopped. At this point he already knew what had happened. There were bloody handprints up and down the doorway, slowly being washed away. Laying in a pool of blood at the base of the open door was a figurine. A plastic horse. Written on the door were the words “kai ho hades akolourthei met autou.” AND HELL FOLLOWED WITH HIM. With tears streaming down his face, the preacher took a step into his livingroom. Upon the wall there was a message for him. He knew it was for him. “Where is your faith now?”

The rest of the story is history. The Preacher walked out that night and never returned to the house or the church. He never came back to the small town of Crescent. The next morning, they found a note on the dashboard of his car right outside of town.

 

“I have no reason to be here anymore. That monster asked me where my faith is. It is dead in my house with my wife and my daughter. I don’t want it back. I want him.

He wants a fight.

He’s got one.

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

Revelation 6:8”

 

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