The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Mr. Mercer drove down the road at a steady pace while conversing back and forth with Deacon Hawthorne who was seated in the front while Lynnette, Isaac and Isaiah were all packed in the back seat of the car. The deacon's bald, light skinned head bobbed up and down, agreeing with just about everything that Mr. Mercer was mentioning about the book of Galatians, while Isaac kept his attention solely at the passing scenery outside his window.

He had hardly said a single word ever since leaving church earlier; he didn't even acknowledge his own son when he reached out for him to be picked up into his arms. Isaac's head was elsewhere that cloudy afternoon.

Light flurries rained down from the sky, making it look like a complete whiteout, even though not one flake seemed to be sticking to the ground. With every building that passed, Isaac's stomach growled even more loud and irate.

"Uh oh," Deacon Hawthorne said, "sounds like someone didn't eat breakfast this morning."

"That boy always eats breakfast." Mr. Mercer giggled. "I can't imagine why he would be so hungry now."

Isaac could tell that his menacing silence was causing a bitter chill in the backseat. Even though he didn't want to look at her, Isaac could feel Lynnette's eyes pierce his flesh.

"Pastor Mercer," Lynnette all of the suddenly called out.

"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Mercer replied.

"Your son here told me a very interesting story about you the other night."

As if someone had clocked him over the head, Isaac awoke from his deep spell and stared peculiarly at Lynnette.

"He told me that you once were a pimp and a drug dealer before you became a pastor."

"Oh, did he now?" Mr. Mercer

"Yes, sir. Is it true? Because I'm having a very

into a lot of mess back then. Then I met Mrs. Mercer, and well...let's just say that the Lord brings us special people to save our

"Amen, she surely was." Deacon Hawthorne

"I see,"

"And then after all that, Isaac

"Yes...the end." Mr. Mercer

joined in on the chorus of

all are some stone-cold, jive people." Isaac smirked. "You even got my own son laughing at me." He looked down and over at Isaiah who was grinning from ear to ear in his winter coat that

Mercer calmed down. "You're alright with me. But we'd better get some gas or else we won't make it

along with the ringing that the black, rubber hose

that the baby doing that, too?"

does that every time we stop at the

pump for you, dad." Isaac

pocket, pulled out

that was flying flurries towards the tiny cashier's hut, a homeless man, smoking a cigarette caught his attention. For some odd reason Isaac couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the man; it was like he was familiar with him. It

before his eyes. It was the face of a man, a light-skinned, young man that resembled an old, childhood friend. In his mouth he wanted to say a name,

it!" A large black man warned as he

other people were already standing, who instead of wanting to buy gasoline, only desired to purchase cartons and packs of cigarettes. Isaac, too, longed for a smoke, but at least

Right in front of him was a young woman. She stood only a few inches shorter than Isaac. The lady was wearing an autumn orange and brown knit hat, a