Posts in memories

Reverend David Allan Dowd (or “Dad”, as many in his brethren liked to call him) sat in a tent on the outskirts of Rector, Arkansas, getting ready to give his sermon, when he felt the Evil. It was as if a hundred – no, a thousand, maybe more – tortured souls suddenly called out, and only he could hear their cries. Only he could witness their screams. He began to tremble, and tears ran freely down his cheeks. Satan had just stepped foot on Earth, and God’s chosen children must rise up against them or forever be doomed to the fiery depths of hell.