Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“No more than usual, brother.” Dad shrugged. "Emily had another one of those fits again. I took her in the back to calm her down. She hurt herself a little. I wiped her face."
“Thank you for letting them stay here after school. She's a lot.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
Her dad sighed. “Now, I got to go beat some sense into her ass. I'll need a strong stick. Her bottom as hard as her head they break in two after a few hits.”
Dad chuckled. “Don’t hurt her too bad.”
Daryl and he left.
I stood there holding my notebook opened.
“I’m going to take a shower, son.” Dad stood and scratched his head. “Then, we’ll be off to the library.”
“Okay, D-Daddy.” I stared at the door.
He looked down at me and frowned. “Maxwell?”
I widened my eyes. “Yes?”
“Did you pee on yourself?”
I gazed down at my jeans. He was right. Urine covered the front. I had no idea when I had done it.
“Let me get you a towel, son.” Dad hurried away. “Take off them jeans.”
“Okay, D-Daddy.” I turned my view to the TV.
Goku no longer fought Frieza. Instead, Goku stared right at me.
A deep dark voice left him—one that I didn’t recognize. “Heathens walk among us.”
I parted my lips. “What?”
"Heathens!"
"Goku, are you talking to me?"
“So many heathens! But the Great Eagle in the sky is watching us. He is always watching us!”
And that was when I woke up, and the setting around me was even crazier than the nightmare.
I was back to being an adult man and I was far away from that apartment in Harlem.
But, I was naked and sitting in a pew.
And the ache in my soul was back, but I had bigger problems.
What the fuck?
Shackles were hooked to my ankles but at least they wasn’t rooted to the floor. Handcuffs were on my wrist. My hands lay on my lap.
Where am I?
I found myself in some sort of odd church. The walls were made of wood, and the mortar between the logs was crumbling and dry. There were three pews in the room, and I was sitting in the middle one. The pew was hard and uncomfortable, and the wood was rough under my bare ass. The floor was dirt. The air was thick and musty.
Jean-Pierre sat on my right. He was awake. Horror covered his face. He had a huge bruise on his forehead. Blood dripped from it.
That's right. We climbed out of the hole.
Boris was on my left. Bandages wrapped around one leg and it was elevated by a small bench.
Like me, they were naked, shackled, and chained too.
Yet, Boris kept rocking his head back and forth like he was high as hell.
What is really going on?
Wood people rested in all the other pews. There were tons of them. Their faces were immaculately carved into perfect noses, eyes, and mouths.
And a large white man stood at the pulpit, just as naked as me. He held a book in one hand and a white pipe in the other. Smoke rose from it.
Is that. . .Timur?
He took a hit from the pipe and raised the red book in the air. “Heathens! They’re all around us!”
Yeah. That's him.
Timur jumped up and then gestured to the ceiling. His dick bobbed with the movement. “But that Great Eagle in the sky sees it all!”
I looked up.
A large wooden eagle dangled from the ceiling. A cross had been plastered under his claws. He looked like he was air surfing on a crucifix.
What the fuck?
“Heathens!”
I put my attention back on Timur’s crazy ass.
On the left of the pulpit, a wood woman sat at a wood piano.
Behind Timur preaching, five wooden people sat on benches in red tattered robes.
This must be Timur. If not, then there’s two crazy white men in these woods.
Putting the red book down, Timur took another hit from the pipe and blew out smoke.
I sniffed the air and shook my head.
That’s not weed in that pipe. Too chemically smelling.
I checked behind me. There was no door like in a regular church. It was just thick wood wall. I didn’t see any windows either.
“We will now have Sue Ellen play us a nice tune as the choir sings, ‘The Golden Nest in the Sky.’“
Timur turned to the choir, giving us a horrifying view of his bare pale white ass.
Dude is in the woods, but doesn’t get any sun?
Of course no music filled the air. Yet Timur rocked from side to side, humming and clapping his hand against his thigh.
I leaned toward Jean-Pierre. “What kind of song is the Golden Nest in the Sky?”
Jean-Pierre frowned at me. “That’s your first question?”
"I'm just saying."
"Out of all the questions, the question about the song was your top priority?"
Boris yelled on my left. “Amen, Eagle! Amen!”
“Yo.” I widened my eyes.
Jean-Pierre whispered, “Timur fixed Boris’s leg. I think he gave him something for the pain in the process.”