By Daniel Easterman
On a desolate island off the west coast of eire, a guy of god is living over his unwilling flock. His holy venture is to satisfy the Scriptures. he's armed with adequate technical weaponry to blast himself and his congregation to Heaven and beyond.
Set in a rustic steeped in its personal brutal clash, this gripping mystery of apocalyptic insanity possesses either hindsight and foresight, and astonishes with its intensity and vision.
“A blood-soaked saga of human frailty, duplicity and madness. certain to preserve you conscious at evening, even once you have comprehensive it”
“Easterman weave a narrative which manages to herald the IRA, British intelligence, non secular fundamentalism and a coup d'etat whereas maintaining the velocity , the credibility and a gorgeous physique count.”
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Additional resources for Day of Wrath
The scent of nachos teased me. My fingers itched to pick up a ball, to send it flying down the lane. I loved bowling. I just hadn’t done it in weeks…because of him. Of Aaron. This was where we had our first date. Where we were supposed to be having a date. Right now. A sharp pang stabbed my heart and each thud was like a hammer against my chest. How had things gotten so messed up? Before we started dating—and even during—I used to think of him as Heart Stopper; I’d see his smile and my heart would give one solid thump and then poof, stop.
Are you getting a divorce? Are we becoming a statistic? ” My father let out a startled laugh, erasing the seriousness from his face for at least two full seconds. ” He quickly waved his hands. ” I let out a deep breath and sat back down, eyeing them warily. I wasn’t ready to relax just yet. The ‘nothing like that’ left a lot of ground uncovered. For instance, they could tell me I had been adopted or something. ” I asked. I shouldn’t have. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it’d been a mistake.
And then I burst into hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time. It was a silver necklace with a pendent. The pendent was…I couldn’t fathom the words. It was a small silver heart. Shooting through the heart was a single arrow, the tip made of a black stone. Onyx. My heart leaped and I wasn’t sure my ribs could contain it long. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, the word bubbling out of nowhere. ” It was beautiful and ironic. And I didn’t deserve it. ” The words, spoken so softly, hit me like a lead fist and went straight through my chest to my heart.