| Author: | Nate Jhonsen | ISBN: | 9781449733711 |
| Publisher: | WestBow Press | Publication: | January 10, 2012 |
| Imprint: | WestBow Press | Language: | English |
| Author: | Nate Jhonsen |
| ISBN: | 9781449733711 |
| Publisher: | WestBow Press |
| Publication: | January 10, 2012 |
| Imprint: | WestBow Press |
| Language: | English |
THE PAST
Pastor Sims finished digging the grave when he heard a tinkling behind him. The hair on his neck stood up. He looked up, but no one was there.
Gloria received the telegram of her uncle's passing and her need to come and take possession of his farm. The stage pulled in, the driver opened the door, offered his hand to the lady, and said, "This is Weslin, Kansas; hot, dry, and nothing moves after ten p.m."
THE FUTURE
I switched on the TV, searched the channels; all were off except one. The announcer said, "A new government was in power, running the whole world. Everyone has to adjust to this new world government."
A black sedan pulled into the yard, out poured four people. I saw bulges under their jackets. I reached back, and unsnapped the holster strap on my Beretta, and said, "Good morning." I didn't receive good anything back. One man put his hand in his pocket. I saw the butt of his automatic. I had been judged, sentenced to die. The execution was to take place, and I was not allowed to voice my defense.
THE PAST
Pastor Sims finished digging the grave when he heard a tinkling behind him. The hair on his neck stood up. He looked up, but no one was there.
Gloria received the telegram of her uncle's passing and her need to come and take possession of his farm. The stage pulled in, the driver opened the door, offered his hand to the lady, and said, "This is Weslin, Kansas; hot, dry, and nothing moves after ten p.m."
THE FUTURE
I switched on the TV, searched the channels; all were off except one. The announcer said, "A new government was in power, running the whole world. Everyone has to adjust to this new world government."
A black sedan pulled into the yard, out poured four people. I saw bulges under their jackets. I reached back, and unsnapped the holster strap on my Beretta, and said, "Good morning." I didn't receive good anything back. One man put his hand in his pocket. I saw the butt of his automatic. I had been judged, sentenced to die. The execution was to take place, and I was not allowed to voice my defense.
