Muriel was beside herself with grief. The love of her life taken in the blink of an eye, and in such a tragic, mysterious, and horrific way. She sat, completely phased out from reality, as though the world were happening around her in slow motion and hyperspeed all at the same time. She heard voices but couldn’t process them, she saw visuals but didn’t understand them. Her world stopped making sense. How could Enoch be gone? He’d always been there when she needed him, and now, when she needed him the most, he was nowhere to be found. That’s not true, she knew where to find him: in a box. Not even a coffin, but a small box about the size of a large lantern, that’s where he was, that’s where his bones and ashes were. She was sitting in the church rectory speaking with Enoch's family, the Smiths, and the visiting preacher, who had decided to stay a little longer given the strange occurrences and the sudden absence of men of the cloth in the community. So far she had been tuned out and lost in her own train of thought, but something caught her attention and snapped her back to the reality.

“What do you mean you won’t bury him in the cemetery?” bellowed Enoch’s father, Richard, a barrel chested man with a large grey beard and the wrath of God in his eyes. He was so mad his large hands were shaking. “He was the goddamn preacher, here!” Richard didn’t share his son’s same reverence for the name of God. Enoch wouldn’t be caught dead using the Lord’s name in vain like that. But then again, Enoch was dead, so Muriel didn’t know how to think anymore. The preacher, pastor Williams, was getting nervous.

“G-given the circumstances surrounding the death it would not be right to bury him with the other saints.” he said “There’s something not right about that death, and you know it!”

“Of course it wasn’t right, the man was 33 and he burst into flames!” Shouted Richard.

“Exactly, and the room smelled of sulphur not an hour later!” He said, “There are demonic forces at work here, and he must have been knee deep in it!” Pastor Williams was starting the shake. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen to faithful believers!” he said.

“If it was demonic, and I’m not saying that it was, then he was attacked!” Richard argued, “It could happen to anyone, even you!”

“Numbers 22!” Shouted the pastor, “The 22nd chapter of the book of Numbers, you cannot bless what God has not blessed or curse what God has not cursed! Your son was cursed!”

“I’ll curse you!” Muriel thought. After all Enoch had done in his life she couldn’t believe he was now being denied a believer’s burial. She couldn’t take it anymore, she got up and ran out of the room. Enoch’s mother, Susan, followed after her. Susan was a gentle woman with soft brown hair always kept back in a bun. The lines on her face conveyed a kindness instead of her age and she always treated Muriel well.

“Sweetheart,” she said, “It’s just men beating their chests. It’ll all get sorted out.”

“He’s gonna be buried there!” Muriel said through some tears. “If I have to dig the grave myself, he’s gonna be buried there!” Richard stormed out of the rectory, his eyes full of fire.

“Let’s go, Susan. Muriel.” He said. “The man is a damned fool! He won’t listen to reason.” Muriel couldn’t take it. She stormed back into the rectory.

“I hate you, you damn son of a bitch!” She said. “I wish this evil upon you so that you can know what it’s like to lose a good man and be abandoned by the people you thought would protect you!” She ran out of the church and up the dirt road out of Helmuth. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew that she needed to run; she needed to get as far away as possible. She ran until her legs felt like rubber and she collapsed by the side of a stream. She sat there weeping and wishing this were all a bad dream, and she was so engrossed in her sadness that she didn’t notice the little girl standing by the shore side. When the girl heard Muriel crying she came up to her to see what was wrong.

“I know you.” She said. Muriel sniffed and looked up. The girl must have only been 7 or 8. She had bright blonde hair braided back through a french braid into a ponytail and had a crown of daisies around her head. “I know you.” she said again. “Your pastor Enoch’s wife.”

“Not quite, Sug” she said in a half sob.

“Momma said he died” said the little girl.

“Yeah.” Muriel said in between broken breaths.

“He used to visit me. He was nice.” she said, “And now you wanna bury him in the cemetery, but pastor Williams won’t let you.” This caught Muriel’s attention. How did this girl know that? That conversation literally just happened.

“Word must get around fast in this town.” she thought.

“I can make the preacher go away.” said the girl in almost a whisper. “Momma says I can do it.”

“What do you mean?” Muriel asked. She was getting a knot in her stomach anticipating the answer.

“Momma helps me make bad men go away.” she said. “Then you can bury pastor Enoch in the cemetery like he deserves.” Muriel was bewildered. What was this child talking about? How did she know all of these things? What was she going to do? Muriel thought back to her last words to the preacher before she ran out of the church, and without thinking about the consequences she said, “Ok. Do it.” The girl smiled and took a few steps back, then turned and walked towards the stream.

“Wait,” said Muriel, “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Molly” said the girl.