Solomon's Grave Read Online Free PDF

back through the kitchen and climbed the narrow staircase to the living room. The mattress had already been pulled from the couch, a sheet and heavier blanket folded neatly atop it. He made the bed, knelt beside it and prayed. For strength, and attentiveness over the next two weeks as the man who built this church turned over his life’s work to someone else.
    Nathan also prayed that, whatever the reasons God had for bringing him home, he would be able to serve Him with everything he had. In any way He chose.

Chapter Six
    The dream was different this time, as details of those which came before returned with sharp clarity.
    The sky was still the red of an eternal sunset; the sand still blew across his shoes. Nathan stood on a hill, looking down into a valley through which the long line of hooded worshippers marched toward the temple. They were close to their destination, nearing the steps leading to the massive, open doors. In past dreams, the monk-like figures had always been traveling toward the temple, but had never reached the steps. Each time, they drew closer.
    Nathan was wearing the black vestments of a Jesuit priest, black shoes this time, not sneakers. He dug these into the sand in anticipation of the inevitable pull from the distant structure, waited to be lifted into the air toward the horrifying darkness inside. It did not come. Maybe he was far enough away.
    Smoke rose out of the door, swirling into a tempestuous but almost familiar form. Cloud-like arms stretched from its amorphous body, collapsed back, stretched out again. It was like seeing a birth, the emergence of a demon revealing its shape in dust and smoke. It rose above the temple, dwarfing the structure with its own formidable size.
    The glow of the sunset burned through the demon’s body in a red aura. The light focused, reformed into molten eyes. These eyes cast a burning light across the hooded procession, further back along their ranks. Traveling, searching for something. Drawing closer.
    Nathan understood, as one could only understand such things in a dream, that the eyes were searching him out. He tried to turn, run down the opposite side of the hill, hide from the searching gaze of the monster floating above the temple. He couldn’t move. The demon’s light moved past the worshippers, up the sand dune, then shone across Nathan’s face. He raised his hands to shield himself. His arms literally burned in the heat. His sleeves burst into flame. The paralysis ended. Nathan threw himself backwards and rolled down the sand dune.
    The smell of burning flesh, like overcooked bacon. He buried his arms in the hot sand to extinguish the fire. A voice called to him—his father’s voice. Nathan, it said, you are the chosen, the first born. You are the sacrifice.
    He wanted to scream, but dared not open his mouth. His hair was on fire. Rather than extinguish the flames, the sand fed them, and they spread down his back. He rolled down the dune, burning, feeling no pain but sensing his body blackening to ash.
    He reached the bottom of the hill, curled and thrashing, unable to scream. The smoky demon passed overhead with a tail made of wind, roaring with ethereal laughter. Nathan shielded his face and prayed for God’s protection. For the dream to end.
    Coolness. The smell of damp grass, freshly cut.
    He lowered his arms. They were bare, unburned. He looked down at his naked body. Around him, impressions of trees towered overhead like sentinels, blocking out the starlight. He was safe here. Shapes around him were slow to reveal themselves, more as outlines and suggestions.
    Massive wings came into focus above. The light of a moon which he could not see revealed the calm faces of two angels standing guard overhead.
    No, he realized, that wasn’t quite true. The angels didn’t notice he was there. They stared without seeing, facing each other in silent, intimate communication.
    A voice, different than that of his father’s, more powerful, deep and without