by Jeremy Marr
“Whooooow!” was all Brendon-Kyle could say before sound was refused access to his throat and mouth by a surprising upward thrust to his body. He felt his father's muscles straining as his Papa waged a private war with Christina DeBold in keeping the boy balanced above his head.
Brendon-Kyle had thought he would have come up with some kind of plan or something by now, but the ‘now’ seemed to have had sprinted ahead of him. Now, it was far too late to think of anything that may get him out of this situation. Now, he was on his back being suspended by only two thin, frail arms, looking up at the pre-dawn lit sky. Now, he was going to be tossed over the Cliff of Offering. Now was when the Coming would start.
Other than the involuntary gasp of surprise, Brendon-Kyle seemed very relaxed. He knew this time would be coming, but he thought when it was here that he was either going to not be in the predicament at all, or that he would be scared to death. Neither of those two came true, Kyle realized, and knew that sometimes you just could not plan for everything. The recent events leading up to this shock induced calmness splashed through his head. He felt his eyes close as his mind retraced his steps.