Read Online The Book of Paul -- A Paranormal Thriller by Richard Long - Free Book Online Page A

away was the proudest moment of his short young life, even better than his first kill. There was no hurt. No pain. No tears. No fear. Well, some fear, but even that must have its own cool pond. Its own switch. Martin looked up at the man with the sharp needle and asked, “Daddy…what’s your real name?”
    Daddy looked at him with an expression he couldn’t understand, then answered in a whisper so faint he had to lean in to hear it.
    “Son, my name is Paul.”

“Tell me a story,” Martin said with a smile half as big as his face. They were in the wheat field again, sitting in the worn wooden flatbed of a broken-down pickup truck.
    “What kind of story?” Daddy asked, already knowing the answer.
    “Tell me about the angel!” Martin cried in a high-pitched voice.
    “Again?” he asked, feigning astonishment. “I have many stories to tell.”
    “No, tell me about the angel!” Martin yelled gleefully.
    The stories had become a ritual for them, every day after his lessons. Now that Martin was controlling the needle, he pushed it in even harder and deeper than Daddy, wanting him to be proud, yes, but also wanting to finish quicker so they could get to the stories. Daddy (he still couldn’t call him Paul, no matter how hard he tried) would sigh as Martin drove the needles in farther and farther, sometimes in one side and out again. When he finally said, “Aye, that’s a good lad,” it was time for the stories. Or story. All his tales seemed connected, like they were part of one big story that didn’t have a beginning or an end. Martin liked the story about the angel most of all. It seemed like Daddy did too.
    “Please, please, please!” Martin begged, knowing he didn’t need to.
    “Okay, you little rascal,” Daddy smirked, giving him a scorching noogie.
    “Once upon a time…such a long, long time ago…there was a very special boy,” Daddy began, shaking his long blond hair back from his sun-baked face like a waking lion. “What made him so special?” he asked, giving Martin a wink.
    “He had special powers…and a mark on his chest, like this!” Martin yelled, pulling up his dirty T-shirt to reveal a ring-shaped discoloration on his solar plexus. Unlike most birthmarks, it was lighter than the surrounding skin, like a halo. The first time Daddy saw it, he didn’t seem surprised. He said it was an omen. It meant he was destined for greatness, like the boy in the story.
    “See, I have one too,” Daddy said, opening his shirt. In stark contrast to his own scrawny ribcage, Daddy’s was thick with muscles. The mark was even more intimidating. It was dark, dark red—so dark it looked completely black except at the edges. It started with a circle in the center of his breastbone, then radiated outward in inky snakes like the twisted blades of some of his knives. They looked like the rays of the sun—if the sun was black. Martin couldn’t help but stare. It felt like the black sun was pulling him inside.
    “Yes, the boy was very special,” Daddy continued, breaking the spell. “So special that he had a very special friend watching over him. His special friend came from another world that was not at all like the world we live in. There was no sun and moon, because everything had its own inner light. The luminous beings in the other world were made of pure energy, so they could never die. But they could never really live either. Not like we do. Some called them gods or daimons, but over time most people came to know them by another name.…”
    “Angels!” Martin cried with joy.
    “Aye, angels,” Paul nodded, smiling just as brightly.
    “On the day of his birth, the boy’s special angel was watching, peering through a gateway connecting their worlds, a portal to his heavenly realm the angel could see through, but was shielded from humans except when they dreamed, or if they had the gift of the seer .
    “When the angel saw the birthmark on the boy’s chest he was delighted. From that moment