Collected Kill: Volume 1 Read Online Free PDF

to the highest ground, but there weren’t many hills.
    I heard my father praying that night, “The Lard is my Shepherd.  It shall lead us through the tough times and guide us to the Promised Land.  Praise the Lard, Amen!”
    I thought my father was insane.
    But that night I became a true believer that he was the chosen.
    The water level crested near midnight.  Half the livestock had perished and the barn where the Lard stayed was washed away.  My father awoke, scrambling after he heard the crack of wood, as the water carried the barn away.
    “Oh, my Lard,” he screamed, “Where has it gone?”
    We waded through the current as rain continued to plummet from the sky.  Gray clouds swirled furiously overhead, blocking most of the moonlight.
    And then we saw it.  Where the barn had collapsed and washed away, the Lard remained.  It was not even affected by the raging waters.  In fact, it floated atop the water—a true miracle.  It moved across the waters gracefully until it met Father and I.  And this time it spoke to both of us.  It told us what needed to be done next.  And my father and I both broke down into tears.

    3.

    The property was damaged.  The field was wiped clean of all crops.  The pigs were dead and dying.  We packed up some essentials and were ready to make the move to the neighboring town of Jerusalaham.
    I watched from the distance as Mother and Father knelt before the Lard.  My father’s tears glistened in the sunlight as he kissed my mother.
    The Lard stretched itself out on all sides, to where it had expanded into a perfect circle at least six foot in diameter.  It pulsed and bubbled in a strange ritual just before my father pushed my mother’s head into its mass.
    I gritted my teeth as the Lard’s body formed into a giant hand that clutched my mother’s face.  Her scream was cut short as the Lard’s body pierced her eyeballs and surged into her skull.  Her face distorted as the Lard leeched its way through her pores, crawled into her mouth and nose.
    She fell backwards, putting her hands to her face.  But her flesh just melted into the Lard’s body.  Bones fell to brittle ash that was consumed by the pale mass quivering before us.
    Her clothes were ripped off as the Lard’s tentacles pushed between her breasts and between her legs.  Her body arched, as if in ecstasy, before convulsing toward silence.
    “Son,” Father said, “I know it’s hard to understand, but it’s the Lard’s way and it should be followed.  The Lard had told me that women are here to serve men.  And, sometimes, after they have served our needs, they need to be sacrificed for higher purposes.”
    I nodded, trying my best to understand.
    I looked back to the Lard, which had grown twice its size.   Then I headed for the truck and our new life in Jerusalaham.

    4.

    We quickly found meaning to why the Lard had told us to relocate.  Jerusalaham was a quiet farming town, much like Beefleham, but somehow would become the center of our following.
    Within two weeks, several men from town had joined Father’s Sunday service.  They were skeptical at first, but after they witnessed the Lard firsthand, they quickly converted.
    During the next seven months, our congregation grew to fifty men.  And with this support, the Lard started performing miracles right before our eyes.
    First, it was the six-pack of mineral water.  My father had placed it into the Lard’s body.  Its flesh quickly consumed the bottles.  Its body quivered and then everything went silent.  Its flesh parted again to the sight of a six-pack of beer.
    The congregation sat in awe at this feat.  If anyone had their doubts up to this day, they had been quickly erased.  
    The more people who came, the more miracles the Lard performed in front of its chosen flock.
    A bag of potatoes were turned into pork rinds.  
    The Lard’s pale body touched an anorexic teenager.  A mere two weeks later she had miraculously gained eighty pounds and