The fog lay low over Kensington Gardens, where Silas was walking
Staggering away from a quiet, low-profile area. As he knelt on the wet grass, he felt a torrid flow of warm blood flowing from the bullet wound to his ribs. But he still stared straight forward. The fog made this place look like heaven.
When he raised his blood-stained hands to pray, he saw the raindrops caress his fingers
And make them white again. As the rain intensified on his back and hips, he felt a body choking a cattle and we spread in the fog. I'm a ghost.
A BREAZE OF AIR CARRIED WITH THE SMELLING SMELL OF THE EARTH PASSED THROUGH NEW LIFE, SILAS PRAYED WITH ALL
A living cell in his collapsed body. Pray for mercy. Pray for his Savior. Reverend Arringarosa... And pray that death will not take him prematurely, for he has much more to do
THE MIST WAS WRAPPING EVERYTHING AROUND IT NOW, AND SILAS FELT THAT HIS BODY WAS LIGHTER
He was so sure that the fog was carrying him over the clouds. He closed his eyes and said a final prayer.
And somewhere in the heart of the clouds, Manuel Arrengarosa whispered that he was.... If our Lord is a compassionate, merciful God...
The pain that was tearing Silas 'body finally seemed to fade, and then he knew the pastor was...
Right.
