Guest Post by Tanatswa
(Photo credit: Ben Zank)
This is an extract from Messenger of Fear by Michael Grant
“It was a coffin.
Something told me it was empty.
I was sure that I would see a familiar face in that coffin. I was sure I
would see myself. But why would I be lying in a church that was no church?
Cold fingers of horror squeezed my heart, wrung the blood from it and left
me gasping for air. Each inhalation was a sniffle, each exhalation a
shudder. My fingernails pressed into my palms and the pain of it was prod
that I was alive, or something like alive and yet I knew, I knew what I
would see in that coffin.
I took another step.
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