Try, Try Again

Hello, and welcome to this weeks response to The Writer’s Mess’s Friday Picture Prompt Challenge. This week t there was a book, some used candles, and dirt to draw from, and at first I thought I would skip it. Then I started to worked what kind of spilled would involve so much dirt, and well, we get the story of our narrator, trying to perform a ritual, and running out of time.

The first time made sense, she had interpreted the moon phase wrong, she didn’t have a good enough offering, but this time it should have worked.  Why didn’t it work?

Maybe it was the hour?  She had tried midnight, but maybe, just maybe nonsense from that witch show on TV had been right, and it was really three am that was the true witching hour. 

She could do this, she would do this she had to.

She looked down at the book, still open to the appointed page, half used candles strewn around it in the dirt covering the grave.

She had on more chance at this, and if she wasn’t successful, it was over, she would be too late, and Kennedy would stay dead.

She had two and a half hours to prepare, to get another sacrifice, and if this was her last shot, she would have to make it count.

She pulled the knife from her bag, and headed towards the living space behind the church.  After all, in for a penny, in for a pound.


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