Arianna's Awakening (Arianna Rose Part 1 & The Awakening Part 2) by Christopher Martucci, Jennifer Martucci Page A

to her face.  “You see this?”
    She nodded.
    “This is a book of witchcraft.  Are you a witch?”
    “N-n-no,” she stammered through welling tears.
    “Then what is the meaning of this?” he shouted inches from her face.
    The girl cried.  Blackened tears fell from her eyes and formed sinister rivulets down her cheeks. 
    “You are nothing more than an impostor,” he growled.
    “I-I-I- know,” she sobbed.
    “Where did you get this?” he asked her and held the book to her face again. 
    She did not answer, but wept uncontrollably.
    “Where?” he shouted.
    “Online; I-I got it online.”
    Howard swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and took a deep breath to calm the rage that scorched inside of him.
    “You are not a witch,” he said through his teeth and squeezed her cheeks harder.  “None of you are!”
    “I-I-I know.  There’s no such thing,” she blubbered.
    Anger shot through him like a lightning bolt.  His body began to tremble and he squeezed even harder.  “Foolish child,” he condemned.
    He stared into her eyes.  They were the eyes of a scared and reckless teenage girl.  His peripheral vision confirmed that all present were scared, foolish teenagers.  None held powers.  None were witches.  But Howard felt no pity for the girl or her friends.  They had chosen freely to experiment with darkness.  They had turned from the light, from God.  And he could not ignore such an affront.  He could not forgive it. 
    “This is a sin.  You are all sinners!” he said and dropped the blue book to the floor.  It landed with a thud and he felt the girl flinch beneath his grip.  With his freed hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his blade.  In one quick motion, he thrust it into the girl’s stomach.
    A stunned hush blanketed the room then was quickly slashed by cries of terror and pleas.
    “What have you done?” a voice shrieked.
    “Oh my God,” another voice sobbed.
    “Please don’t kill us too,” a male voice begged.
    “I cannot allow for such blasphemy to go unpunished.  This is God’s will,” he said solemnly.  Warmth spread over his hand and a large crimson stain grew over her abdomen, saturating her shirt and expanding to the waistband of her pants.  In the warmth of her waning lifeblood, he felt infused with calm and peace.  He was carrying out God’s work.  Righteousness filled him.  He felt dizzy, giddy even, and weightless.  Tears filled his eyes, the Holy Spirit overwhelming him.
    “Kill them,” he calmly instructed his followers.  “Kill them all.”
    At his command, shots rang out and echoed though the old house.  Tears streamed down his charred, leathered skin.  Pure joy filtered through him like sunlight.  He relished in the moment and muttered, “I heard you, Lord.  I hear you.”
    He pulled his blade from the girl and returned his attention to his men.  All of the sinners had been shot dead.  None lived.  Smoke filled the room and through its hazy veils, he saw that some of his men looked weary.  He recognized their need for divine inspiration. 
    “Sometimes we have to fulfill commands that are unpleasant on the surfac e.  But rest assured that at their core, the activities here were unholy, and had to be punished.  These were not children of God.  They had strayed and sought out dark forces.  They sought out Lucifer.”  He paused and heard “Amen” muttered several times then continued.  “These sinners needed to fall,” he said and enriched his voice with virtue.  “They will be examples to others who might consider following them.”  His men nodded in agreement.  He raised his voice, honesty and morality ringing out like a bell heralding a new day, and said, “We are God’s soldiers.  We must be strong and carry out His will, however difficult it may seem.  We will leave these bodies, as they are, around the very symbol of their ungodliness.  They will show the world what happens to those who