She tried to breathe but her lungs felt squashed, like the roaches she stomped into the wet, soft earth to keep from scuttling up her legs. All around Ruth were the Bone Boxes: tiny pine coffins that were scattered about like marbles with the bodies of dead children in them; their pale faces tranquil, little hands clasped as if in prayer. 1
Tears spilled down her dirt-smudged cheeks at the sight of this hellish, deeply morbid circle of bone boxes with the children all tucked neatly inside like broken dolls. 2
Father James smiled; his plump, kissable lips invitingly wet. 3
"They're in a better place, Ruth." 4
Dimples winked in the broad planes of his cheeks as he watched her, admiring how her full breasts heaved with each ragged breath, how her eyes drank in the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his smooth, creamy skin. 5
"Fuck you", Ruth hissed, but her voice came out as a whisper, shaky and feeble. 6
He crouched near one of the boxes, one gloved hand caressing a child's tangled hair as his fierce, smoky green eyes examined her from head to toe, wondering if she could fit in the boxes, how divine her cunt would taste on his tongue. 7
"Oh don't worry, Ruth, I plan to." 8
I'm going to peel all that lovely skin right off your bones, Ruth thought, and moved towards him with the blood-stained hammer clutched to her chest, her boots crunching through the carpet of bones. 9
10








which means I can't wait for this story you've got planned!





27 old applause
