The city has known some degree of peace and quiet since his coming. Many have fled, some with high power and authority have vanished, mostly those who were behind the city’s doomed state, even the governor resigned. I have never witnessed this much fright, mostly from people with that much power. All because of one man, he reminded all that in death, all men are equal.
Now I have your attention, its time I told you a story.
This man, they say was a preacher, a man of peace and forgiveness, unafraid of speaking the truth. He had a life, a wife, a babe. But now they are gone, taken forcefully by the foul of the city. Not everyone likes a truthful man.
Now he has become an end to many, far from the shadow of his former self.
They thought him dead, had to claw himself back from the edge of sanity, become what he once thought to be profane, a vengeful spirit, a whirl wind of rage and fury. Some called him the avatar of justice, but he was a preacher, the ghost Preacher. His new gospel, to cleanse the city’s filth.
Its been two years since his cleansing as the city’s inhabitants would call it, the unforseen and untimely demise of those thought to be high and mighty, those presumed to be above the law. No one knows who or what he is, all we hear are stories of a faceless man, clothed in black. Like an emissary of death, his presence is known by the state of the corpses he leaves behind.
I pray you are not guilty, I pray you are not found wanting, because if you are, no walls, no man can keep you safe. They say even death acknowledged him, for he had relieved it of its duties.
Behave little ones, behave.
Lest the ghost preacher pays you a visit.
And preach you his new gospel.
In the two years of his coming, six months have passed with no incident of a cleansing. Many believe he wasn’t a man, but rather a spirit sent to heal the land, and probably have gone to rest after its task was completed.
But by whom, we pondered.
I know he’s out there, watching, observing, getting ready his next gospel.
Emmalase.
Emmalase