2021

  Copyright Page

  2021

  ©Copyright Martin Wiseman 2013

  ISBN 978-0-9568668-4-4

  Cover by Martin Wiseman

  All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be produced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  The characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  978-0-9568668

  Published in Great Britain

  By Little Planet Publishing, London

  Other Kindle EBooks By The Author

  Children’s:

  A Grenville Christmas

  Legend Of The Dingwall Dragons

  Rocky’s Secret Adventure

  Cedric The Rebel Sheep

  Are You A Martian?

  Teenage To Adults Full Length Novels:

  Mart From The Little Planet (4 books) Parts 1-4

  Others:

  The Geek-Speak Free Guide To Publishing To Kindle

  Sell Your Way To A Better Life!

  The Ordinary Man’s Manifesto

  Public Camera Cars

  This book

  was started

  on the

  28th August 2012

  And

  Completed

  On the

  9th September 2012

  (13 days)

  And written strangely

  As if

  From memory

  Table Of Contents

  2021

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter One

  21st April 2010

  St Joseph’s Church,

  Little Compton,

  Surrey, England.

  Alone in the pews sat a small boy quite unseen by old Mrs O’Mally the old church’s cleaner, for he sat towards the back of the pews, hidden from her view.

  Soon, priest Father Mathews entered the small, but popular old church and hearing a noise he looked back to spot the small boy just sitting there on his own.

  Father Mathews quickly walked back to sit in the pew next to the small boy and find out why he was there.

  ‘Well now, young man, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’ he asked cheerfully.

  The small boy though just promptly burst into tears.

  ‘My goodness, lad, what on earth is the matter?’ asked the friendly priest.

  The small boy though didn’t answer as instead he just continued crying.

  Father Mathews handed the boy a clean handkerchief as he waited for him to recover.

  When he eventually stopped crying he smiled down at him.

  ‘There, young man that’s better, now tell me, what is it that’s troubling you so much?’

  The small boy just sat there dressed in his school uniform as he first used the clean handkerchief to wipe the tears from where they had fallen onto the lapels of his jacket. Then he wiped the tears from his eyes.

  ‘Am I able to make a confession to you?’ he asked the priest quietly.

  ‘Well now, that depends’ smiled the priest ‘are you a good Catholic boy?’

  ‘I don’t even know what that means?’ puzzled the small boy.

  ‘Well roughly it means, do your mother and father come here to this old church of ours to worship?’ inquired the priest.

  ‘My father’s dead’ immediately answered the boy.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry to here that lad’ replied the priest sympathetically.

  ‘Neither I nor my Mum ever go to church’ admitted the boy looking up at the priest for the first time.

  ‘Ay, you don’t know about St Joseph then?’ smiled Father Mathews as he proudly pointed to a statue further down inside the church.

  ‘No’ replied the boy just shrugging his shoulders ‘who’s he then?’ he asked curiously as he strained his neck to look at the statue the Father had just pointed to.

  ‘St Joseph is who this church is named after’ smiled the old priest ‘he is the patron saint of all workers, so people just like me in other words’ the priest smiled as he now pointed to himself.

  Kneeling up onto the pew the small boy now looked down the church at the confessional box.

  ‘But don’t people confess in there?’ he asked.

  ‘Well they do’ the priest smiled ‘but what would a young man like yourself need to confess anyway, you hardly look old enough?’ puzzled the priest as he studied the troubled look on the small boy’s face.

  Then he just smiled down at the young schoolboy.

  ‘Ay, why don’t you just tell me what’s troubling you as we sit here now?’ he smiled ‘man to man as they say?’

  ‘But don’t we have to go into that box then?’ puzzled the boy.

  ‘Well, when the church is full, then maybe, but there’s only you, me, and old Mrs O’Mally doing her cleaning down there at the moment’ smiled the priest.

  ‘But won’t she overhear us?’ whispered the boy, but Father Mathews just looked round at him and laughed.

  ‘Ay lad, that would be true if Mrs O’Mally didn’t happen to be a bit on the deaf side’ he smiled and just to prove his point he stood up and shouted to her.

  ‘AY, MRS O’MALLY, ISN’T THAT RIGHT YOU’RE A BIT ON THE DEAF SIDE?’

  When the old lady didn’t even flinch, but just kept on with her cleaning, the boy couldn’t help but giggle a little.

  ‘Ay, I shouldn’t poke fun at her as its not much fun being a bit deaf you know’ commented the priest chastising himself ‘and do you know, that woman has a heart of gold’ Father Mathews smiled.

  ‘That’s better! I’ve managed to get a smile out of you’ the priest laughed as he looked around to see the boy’s face now smiling at him.

  ‘Come on then; let’s start with introductions’ Father Mathews now suggested ‘so you are?’

  ‘I’m Tom Ellis’ replied the small boy.

  ‘Well my name’s Father Mathews and it’s my job to look after this old church’ smiled the priest shaking the small boy’s hand.

  ‘Ah Tom, that’s a good strong name and I see you go to that fine school just up the road here’ smiled the priest.

  ‘Yes, Elm Park Primary’ replied the boy.

  ‘Let me see’ smiled the priest scratching his chin ‘now you must be I’d guess around twenty years of age?’ he joked.

  ‘No, I’m seven!’ laughed the small boy.

  ‘Well you clearly look mature for your age then Tom Ellis’ smiled the kindly priest. ‘Well, now we both know our names why don’t you just tell me, young man, what exactly it is that’s troubling you so much?’

  The small boy suddenly gazed down at his shoes as his face now turn
ed very glum again.

  ‘There lad, there’s nothing you can tell me that will shock me’ Father Mathews assured him ‘why I’ve heard every wicked secret you could imagine and many that you couldn’t even imagine I’d wager’ he smiled.

  The small boy seemed to take in a large gulp of air before he finally explained.

  ‘I killed my father!’ he suddenly blurted out and Father Mathews almost fell off the pews in his shock.

  ‘Well then, I may have been wrong there when I said you couldn’t tell me anything that could shock me’ he uttered as the small boy just began to cry again.

  Father Mathews was stunned by the small boy’s confession and he just stared at him now.

  ‘Tom, what did you mean exactly when you said that you killed your father?’ he asked as he searched for a possible explanation.

  Tom took another deep breath as he wiped the tears from his eyes again.

  ‘My father caught a thing called cancer’ the small boy explained as Father Mathews breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  ‘But lots of people die from cancer, it’s a terrible disease, that couldn’t possibly be your fault, Tom’ commented the priest in a quiet voice.

  ‘But you don’t understand’ replied Tom, showing a little frustration.

  ‘Well I tell you what, why don’t you start from the very beginning then?’ suggested Father Mathews.

  The small boy wiped his tears away again before he began.

  ‘When my dad first became ill we used to visit him in hospital.’

  ‘That’s your mum and you?’ asked Father Mathews.

  ‘Yes’ replied the boy before continuing.

  ‘My dad used to cough really badly’ Tom explained.

  ‘Ay, it must have been on his chest then’ nodded the priest knowingly.

  ‘I began going to visit him with my mum, but then I used to have to wait outside with my auntie whilst my mum went into the hospital to see my dad on her own. I was able to wave to Dad though, through the window and see him as he lay in his bed’ Tom explained. ‘But then my mum began to see my dad on her own, and I was just left at home with my Auntie Jane.’

  The small boy broke down in tears again as the gentle priest tried to comfort him.

  ‘There, there, Tom, it’s good to grieve for someone you really cared about, there’s no dishonour in that’ he told him sincerely.

  But then the small boy continued;

  ‘One night when my mum returned home from seeing my dad in hospital, she saw me to bed, but then I could hear her talking to my Auntie Jane in the kitchen. So I crept down the stairs so I could hear what they were saying. I was hoping they might say when my dad would be coming home’ the small boy explained.

  ‘Ay, so you sneaked down stairs to find out’ smiled Father Mathews.

  ‘Yes’ replied Tom.

  Then the small boy took another deep breath as he paused.

  ‘My mum was in tears and she was telling my auntie how my dad was coughing up blood and was choking, and how he was in terrible pain’ explained Tom, now in floods of tears again.

  ‘Ay, that sounds terrible, lad, really terrible’ uttered the friendly priest as he expressed his sincerest sympathy to the small boy.

  Tom now dropped his head to the floor as if in shame.

  ‘Then I overheard my mum say how she thought my dad would be better off dead, as at least it would end all his suffering so much then.’

  The small boy continued crying now as the old priest tried to comfort him.

  ‘I can understand your mother saying that, Tom, because cancer can be a terrible thing, terrible’ uttered the priest sympathetically.

  But then the small boy continued.

  ‘I went to bed again and just kept thinking about what my mum had said’ he explained.

  Then he looked up.

  ‘In our school we say prayers in the morning assembly’ he told the priest, suddenly changing the subject.

  ‘Ay, well that’s a good thing’ the priest nodded his head in approval.

  Tom fidgeted around nervously now.

  ‘Is this all you wanted to tell me, young Tom?’ smiled the priest.

  ‘No, not everything’ replied Tom as he looked all around him nervously.

  ‘You can be sure nothing you tell me will go beyond these four walls’ Father Mathews assured him. ‘It’s part of our jobs you see, Tom, to keep anything we’re told a secret’ he smiled as Tom now nodded his head.

  ‘Well, thinking about the prayers we said at school I got out of bed…’ Tom cried a little more before taking another big deep breath.

  ‘Then I just prayed for my dad to die without any pain, so he wouldn’t suffer anymore’ explained the small boy before bursting into tears all over again.

  ‘There, there, you just did what you thought was best for your old dad’ smiled Father Mathews.

  ‘But you don’t understand, Father Mathews. When I woke up the next morning, I went downstairs to find my mum in tears. Then she told me that my dad had died the previous night, and not from his cancer, she said his heart had just stopped in the middle of the night, around the same time I had said my prayer!’

  Tom was inconsolable now.

  ‘I killed my dad!’ he cried with his head now buried in his hands.

  ‘There, there, you didn’t kill your father, Tom, your father merely died of what we call, natural causes’ Father Mathews assured him.

  ‘But why did my dad die that night then and at that time and from his heart?’ questioned Tom tearfully.

  The priest was somewhat taken aback by the unusual nature of the young boy’s confession and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to him now.

  ‘Well, Tom’ he began as his mind raced a little ‘sometimes in life strange coincidences do happen. Let me tell you this though, it is quite common for a person’s heart to just stop when they are very ill. I like to believe it is God’s way of saving good people from anymore suffering’ the priest finally explained.

  ‘But God now hates me!’ Tom cried, bursting into tears all over again.

  ‘No, I’m sure that God doesn’t hate you, Tom’ smiled Father Mathews, thinking to himself that he’d finally got to the heart of the matter now.

  ‘God doesn’t hate you, Tom, far from it’ smiled the priest.

  ‘Then why did God show me Hell last night then?’ demanded Tom tearfully.

  Father Mathews was just left open mouthed now.

  The maturity of this young man had already surprised him, but this latest revelation was an enormous shock to him. At first he struggled to respond to this young boy’s astonishing statement.

  ‘But what do you mean, Tom?’ he asked curiously ‘do you mean you’ve seen pictures of Hell with all the flames and stuff, maybe in a comic or something?’ he questioned.

  ‘No, Hell is nothing like that’ replied Tom confidently.

  Father Mathews was very shocked now, for not only was he convinced that this young boy was amazingly advanced for his age, but his latest statement was extraordinary.

  He just stared at the small boy now.

  ‘Hell isn’t all fire and brimstone then, Tom? Then what is it like?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘It’s terrible!’ cried Tom fearfully.

  Then after crying some more Tom slowly began to explain.

  ‘I was shown a man with his arms outstretched and he couldn’t move at all. He was on a distant planet so far away no man will ever be able to reach him there. So no one will ever be able to rescue him there either. This man is there for all time!’ Tom just uttered with a look of total fear in his eyes.

  ‘So he will be there for all eternity then?’ injected the Priest as Tom just nodded.

  ‘Yes, he is stuck there forever!’ explained the small boy as the priest’s eyes just grew wider as he became unable to hide his shock at the boy’s statement to him.

&
nbsp; ‘What else did you see, Tom?’ Father Mathews asked as he sat there quite fascinated.

  ‘The man was staring at something in front of him’ explained Tom.

  ‘That’s the man with his arms outstretched?’ asked the priest curiously.

  ‘Yes’ replied Tom as he seemed to be fidgeting away nervously. ‘The thing this man was staring at must have been very scary indeed as he looked absolutely terrified by it’ Tom explained.

  Tom paused as he just sat there shaking as he wiped his eyes again as the priest waited quite eager to hear some more.

  Tom just paused a second before he continued.

  ‘Then, just for a split second I was put in the man’s place. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced’ Tom uttered as he just burst into tears all over again ‘I’m scared now, Father Mathews, that’s now what’s going to happen to me!’ he cried.

  Father Mathews allowed the boy to cry quite a while before he tried to comfort him again. In truth, he was in shock himself. He was at a loss at really what he could even say to comfort the small boy.

  In the end he just took a deep breath as he thought of an idea.

  ‘Ay, young, Tom, shall I tell what I think happened?’ smiled the friendly priest.

  ‘Yes please’ nodded Tom gratefully.

  ‘The sheer coincidence of your father dying after your prayer made you feel responsible. Ay, I reckon that made you feel guilty and that guilt led you to having that really bad dream. That’s all it was, Tom, do you realise that, a really bad dream?’ smiled the priest.

  ‘Do you really think that’s all it was?’ asked Tom tearfully.

  ‘Ay, I’m sure it was’ smiled Father Mathews ‘why you loved your father didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes’ nodded Tom.

  ‘Then you have nothing at all to feel guilty about do you. You go back to school now and don’t worry anymore about this’ smiled Father Mathews cheerfully.

  ‘You’re sure?’ asked Tom as he now stood up to go.

  ‘Yes, I’m positive’ Father Mathews assured him.

  Just then, Mrs O’Mally had just finished polishing some silver candlesticks on the altar and she then came bumbling down the centre isle of the church.