He was greedy and rude and bitter, but he was still a healer. The parson, though, what was he?
He was nothing. Belief is half of all healing. Belief in the cure, belief in the future that awaits.
And here was a man who lived on belief, but who sacrificed it at the first challenge, right when he needed it most.
He believed selfishly and fearfully. And it took the lives of his daughters.
Conor grew angrier. “You said this was a story without tricks.”
I said this was the story of a man punished for his selfishness. And so it is.
Seething, Conor looked again at the second monster destroying the parsonage.
A giant monstrous leg knocked over a staircase with one kick.
A giant monstrous arm swung back and demolished the walls to the parson’s bedrooms.
Tell me, Conor O’Malley, the monster behind him asked. Would you like to join in?
“Join in?” Conor said, surprised. It is most satisfying, I assure you.
The monster stepped forward, joining its second self, and put a giant foot through a settee not unlike Conor’s grandma’s.
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