Church of Cannibalism

Prologue

"Do you have the knives, Grace?" a man in his late forties asked. He had on a white billow shirt that cuffed loosely around his wrists and was cut off at his waist from the black pants he wore. Around his neck, was a slim, silver cross that hung loosely. He had brown hair that was tapered and had dark brown eyes that could make anyone cringe. He wore black steel toed boots, to the naked eye. To the naked eye with clothes on, anyone could see the knives slightly sticking out of the top of the boot- but nobody ever lost eye contact while talking to this man.

But she loved those piercing eyes.

"For the hundredth time, Abraham, I have everything we need" a lady in her late thirties chuckled. She had on a little black dress that complimented all curves that God has blessed her with and four-inch ebony stilettos to match. She wore a silver shoulder purse that added to her curves. On her right wrist was a sky blue cross that was connected by a silver chain.  Her black, even cut hair made her look like a thief in the night; but her hazel brown eyes made her come across as innocent.

"You're gonna fall over in those shoes, dear" he commented as he sat in the black minivan, which was full to the brim with weapons and disposal techniques, that was smoothly coursing through the empty streets. He dove dangerously close to the curb but kept a constant speed so the cops wouldn't suspect a thing. The moon was full and shining brightly, as a flashlight for the everlasting darkness that covered everyone at night.

It was so perfect of a night to kill; it almost seemed like a set up.

But the Rowans knew better than to think like that.

"If you've seen Jurassic Park, you'd know that women can run in heels, honey" she defended.

Pastor Abraham Rowan and his lovely wife, Grace Rowan, were on their way to a dinner at the Thompson's house.

The Thompsons are lovely people. They help out at church, they give more than the average ten percent for tithe, and they help out at the church's diner: God's Touch.

When first moving to Attapulgus, Georgia; the Thompsons knew no one. They had no one. No family in Georgia, as a matter of fact. They fled from the busy cities and went for the deathly quiet suburbs. So, Pastor Rowan took them in and put them into one of the many houses that he owns.

Free of charge.

He told them that all they had to do was pay him the mortgage for the house for every month and they would be fine.

If they didn't, then there would be consequences.

The Thompsons haven't paid for their mortgage for three months.

Now, the Rowans are traveling to them to deliver that fateful punishment.

"Did you remember to bring the melon scooper?" Abraham asked, making a sharp turn at a corner that made both of them shake.

Grace ignored it and continued; "Yes honey" Grace replied, pulling the sterile melon ball scooper out of her purse.

"Did you remember the plastic containers and the acid solution?" Grace questioned.

"Now honey, you know I never leave the house without them" he chuckled.

Little did the Thompsons know, but the dinner they would be having would be their last. They wouldn't be at church anymore or be able to greet people at the door. They will never smile again or converse with their family back in New York. They would never hear the laughter of their unborn baby or worry about anything anymore.

They would be missed, and soon forgotten like everyone else who met their demise like this.

On the bright side, their bodies will not be wasted.