Reynolds is always there to help. He has some trauma of his own that he carries but as long as he’s able to help others then that’s just groovy. He’s warm hearted and friendly, when he’s needed though he’s happy to get into the thick of the action.
He is a cult deprogrammer and has brought many back from dangerous cults across the world. He thrives on being able to reunite lost loved ones and despite his background in the army firmly believes that peace and love are the way forward.
The most challenging cult that John has faced is the Church of Wigan on Hathfield Bay island. He and church leader, Dominick Cole, have found themselves at odds more than once. Things have gotten really gnarly between them.
He and Joel Hickes were close so when it came time to form the agency in his name there was no better place for Reynolds to be. Some might argue he puts the good in the Good Gang.
Enjoy this? Check out these other titles available now.
You can get all the latest updates from the Coldford Daily by subscribing to the VW newsletter.
Processing…
Welcome. You're now a member. Shhhh!
Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.
Your trip across to Hathfield Bay island isn’t complete without taking a closer look at the Church of St Wigan. Established centuries ago by Noah Wigan – the patron saint of sinners – the church, whilst remaining understated, has gone from strength to strength over the years.
From an outsiders perspective the church has always been seen as extreme in their views. The Wigan way of life requires a lot of sacrifice and even if you give your all the church motto still remains ‘you cannot be saved’. In the hands of a man named Parson Verger the church gathered a reputation for protecting pedophiles and other monsters among their clergy. When the leadership passed to a spirited young man named Dominick Cole, who was Hell bent on cleansing, those monsters were burned and drowned.
Like most organised religions the behaviour of the Wigan congregation can be righteous. They are considered a cult and it has been easy for people to be swept up in their teachings. Many a runaway from the city has knocked on the door of the commune, they have been welcomed behind the walls never to return. Wigan embraces all sinners and if you have a sinful past to leave behind in Coldford, the church may just be your saving grace.
Cult deprogrammer, John Reynolds, is tasked with bringing a loved one home from the notorious Church of Wigan, opening a dark world of trafficking, ritual murder and obscene practices.
Purple Ribbon is available now.
You can get all the latest updates from the Coldford Daily by subscribing to the VW newsletter.
Processing…
Welcome. You're now a member. Shhhh!
Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.
A cult is quite often a religion with unorthodox practices. In a world where the court of public opinion is one which holds the most esteem, being swept up in cult like waves becomes easier and easier. When asked why someone would join a cult the most likely answer is that they can find something there that they can’t find anywhere else. Affection, acceptance, understanding, or a mixture of all those things. It isn’t always some sinister group hidden out of the way of civilised society. You can see it in the chanting of songs at football matches. It can be seen in a crowd of teenagers wearing the latest trends. It can be the way we are hooked to social media.
For the moment allow me to examine the idea of cults in their most natural form. With the help of cult deprogrammer, John Reynolds, I was offered an insight into the depths of these cult groups. Before this interview I would have dismissed the cult idea as foolish people being brain washed. Reynolds helped me understand it better and it was more than that. It was more about a power struggle rather than brain wash. I am reporter, Sam Crusow, and I invite you to join me as we step inside the cults of Coldford.
***
As I sat in my usual booth at Bobby’s lunchbox looking across to John Reynolds the first thing that became apparent to me was the brightness in his persona. When I had been told I would be meeting with a cult deprogrammer I must admit my mind went to a stereotypical assumption. I expected a brooding character. I expected a troubled soul. When he bounded into Bobby’s Lunchbox with a cheery, “I’m super stoked for the interview, Sam,” my presumptions were completely off.
We took a seat and I began to record.
“For legal reasons I understand that most of your cases are classified,” I began. “I’m not looking to press you. I don’t want to put anyone in a difficult position but I would love to hear your insight.”
Reynolds smiled. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I guess it’s about time I talked about it. Get a load off, you know?”
I nodded. “I am agreed that nothing will go to print without your say so so feel free to talk openly. Consider this entire thing off the record.”
“What do you want to know?” Reynolds asked.
“Why don’t you start with some of the cases that shaped who you are.”
“Funny you should ask,” he said. “The first one that comes to mind, you reported on.”
John took a sip of his water. Although he seemed calm I could see a little tension shake him just below his skin. Giving account of some of his experiences seemed to be taking a toll on him. I pushed stop on the recorder.
“We can take five, if you like,” I asked. “This is your story to tell. It’s up to you how you wish to tell it or how far you want to go.”
I was going to remind him that his story deserved to be told as a way of urging him to open up but it seemed I didn’t need to. He had already decided that for himself.
“No,” he said. “It’s fine. I’ll go on.”
I pushed recorded again.
“You may remember a gnarly story In the Express some time back. It was about a girl named Eileen in her late teens. She had found herself in trouble. She was pregnant by her step father. Her mother was a drug user who accused her of seducing him. She was only a young girl and the step father was a real shitty dude,” John explained.
It was a typical tale of abuse, if you find yourself desensitised to such things.
Eileen was forced to leave. She didn’t have enough money to buy a plane ticket. She didn’t have enough money to pay for a hotel room for the foreseeable future. She found herself on the docks of Swantin. A lot of unfortunate souls found themselves there. Their bodies were the last marketable product they had at their disposal so it stood as the best chance of survival. She had been real close to a small vessel called the ‘Lily Ann’. It was no ordinary boat. It was a floating brothel. She had been almost been at the point of climbing on board when she heard the ferry man calling,
“The 6:15 Hathfield Bay! All about the 6:15 to Hathfield Bay.”
Eileen approached the man.
“Excuse me, sir,” she interrupted. “How much for a ticket to the island?”
The Harbour Master eyed her suspiciously. She had no bag with her, the leather of her shoes was bursting and she had a look in her eyes that suggested she would be drugged and whored before the night was out.
“I have been kicked out of my home and I have nowhere to go,” she went on to explain.
He passed her a ticket.
“I’ll let you on,” he said. “You look like you need a break and I’d be honoured to be the one to give you that chance.”
Eileen looked at her ticket.
FERRY WAY LINE.
CHAMBERLAIN DOCKS, COLDFORD – HATHFIELD BAY ISLAND: ROYCE PORT.
She could see the Royal Chamberlain crest on the side.
“Why are you doing this for me?” She asked. She wasn’t much used to generosity or kindness from strangers.
“I said you look like you need a break. The Wigan commune is over there. If you go to them they will give you shelter. They’ll look after you. They don’t have much but they are welcoming.”
Eileen had taken note of the Wigan pin the man displayed proudly, now it held a lot more interest.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Wigan bless you,” was his response.
She had heard of the Church of St Wigan. She didn’t personally know any members but if they could offer her some shelter and sanctuary it was her best bet. Better off in the hands of a religious commune than a brothel, right? Perhaps.
***
The travel across the sea was freeing. The waves that lashed against the side of the ferry liner were like her problems being washed away. By the time she arrived on the island she was smiling again. Although the thin rain had soaked the clothes she arrived in. When she reached the entrance of the commune she was feeling a little feverish. Pulled the purple tasseled bell. She could hear the deep knelling ring. Before long she was a greeted by a woman not much older than herself.
“I have nowhere to go,” Eileen said. “Please can you help me? I’m pregnant. I’m with child.”
The girl looked at her blankly at first. Then she smiled. It brightened her freckled face. Her smile was natural and soft. Her hair was long and tangled. She had purple ribbons tied into her braid.
“Wigan embraces all,” she said in response. Her island accent bouncy and warm. “What’s yer name?”
“Eileen,” the young woman said.
The Wigan girl introduced herself. “My name is River. Come in and rest. You are safe now.”
Eileen entered the commune and the door closed behind her.
***
The first days in the commune were quite pleasant actually. Eileen had no regrets in accepting the Harbour Master’s passage. She had been given clothes. They were real basic but they were warm and comfortable. They even had some elderly women check on her baby. They gave her a lot of old wives tales about the tell tale signs of it being a girl that she carried but they seemed to know what they was doing and according to them the baby was healthy and its heart was beating strong. The real world seemed so far away. Wandering onto the bay at the rear of the commune where she could hear nothing but the waves was her most favourite activity. On this particular day I now detail she had looked up at the sky first. The clouds were thick and grey. The rain wasn’t far off. There was a man sat on the sand, looking out onto the sea. He had drawn his knees up to his chest and was embracing his surroundings like he was seeing them all for the first time. He turned when he heard her.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she apologised.
The man smiled. He had an engaging stare. She could feel herself smiling too. There was some white in his dark hair, despite his youth, just a streak. He reached his arm out beside him.
“Ye might as well sit with me,” he said. “It would be nice to have the company.”
Eileen took a seat, delicately at his side. He kept his attention focused out onto the sea. “So you must be the city dweller they call Eileen.”
Eileen agreed. “Yes, that’s me. I came for sanctuary and I have been given that. I will always be grateful.”
The man nodded. “That’s good to know. I’m glad.”
“Have you been here long?” She asked him.
The man chuckled. “My whole life,” he said.
Eileen was fascinated. “It must have been quite different from the city.”
“They say not much could go on on a little island but you’d be surprised. You really would,” he explained.
“My life was shit over in the city. My mum was a drunk. My step dad forced himself on me. The baby I carry is his. My mum blamed me and the Harbour Master took pity on me. Now I’m here.”
The man turned to her. “Fear not,” he said. “You’re safe here. We are like a big family. We’d love for you to be part of our family.”
“I’m not really a religious person,” Eileen was ashamed to admit. She felt ungrateful given how accepting they had been of her, no questions asked.
“Maybe now’s the time to start,” the man suggested. “Ye can find out quite a bit about yerself.”
Eileen made a vow to try. She really did want to show how appreciative she was.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
“Dominick,” the man returned.
“Your Eminence!?” Came a cry from the commune. There was a monk standing by the entrance in robes.
Dominick looked back. He nodded to the monk who went back inside.
“Your Eminence?” Eileen questioned.
Dominick stood. He reached his hand out and helped her onto her feet.
“I’ve been blessed with the leadership of our church,” he explained. “We always welcome new members.”
Eileen took a vow that very day. She vowed to learn what she could about her new family. Before the baby was born she took a bonafide vow.
***
Reynolds had been based in City Main at the time. He was working out of the offices of CPD. He had been brought onboard when the Office of Law Makers brought their attention to the rise in missing person’s cases in the Coldford. Reynold’s specialty was people who weren’t necessarily missing. They just didn’t want to come home.
It had taken a few months before Eileen’s mother began to show concern. The deadbeat step father had done the same thing with a neighbour so she threw his ass to the kerb and decided she wanted to reconnect with her daughter. A hand written letter had come to the mother with the stamp of the bay. In this letter it told of Eileen’s indoctrination so far. She was pleased to be where she was. She was turning her hand to all kinds of positive things. She was embracing a religion and it was bringing out the best in her. What she made abundantly clear was the fact that she had absolutely no intentions of coming home sans step father or not. That ship had sailed and it had sailed off to Hathfield Bay carrying Eileen’s mother’s only daughter with it.
Eileen’s mother, whom records had named as Lorna P, made an appointment with our investigator.
“I want my daughter back,” she had plead.
She was preaching to the converted in this scenario because Reynolds wanted the girl back too. The issue was as he looked at her she looked real spaced out. She said she had given up the drinking but she had been rad with it very recently. All the signs were there. Her bulbous nose was red with burst vessels. Her breath was putrid. She had made an effort to dress herself but the clothes had a smell of dampness about them. If this girl was to come back, what exactly would she be coming back to? For better? For worse? It wasn’t Reynolds’ decision to make but he had to make sure she understood.
“I will do what I can to bring her back but you gotta level with me. Are you going to be there for her.”
Lorna scowled. She looked as though she was about to give the usual, ‘are you telling me what to do with my own kid?’ speech but she retracted her statement before it was aired. She knew she had treated her daughter like shit. She should have stood by her daughter. She would be heavily pregnant by now if she hadn’t lost the child. The letter never mentioned either way.
“I want to do better. I want to put the past behind us,” was her claim. “I got a job. I’m cleaning at the Lunch Box.”
Reynolds leaned back in his chair.
“It could get real rad,” he warned. “You need to be ready for that. If she does come back you need to be there for her. The process could take a long time.”
Lorna P nodded. “I’m ready for that,” she assured.
Rule number 88 of a Cult Deprogrammer: First contact with the lost soul could make or break a case. That first contact had to be made.
***
The meeting had been set for four pm. The location was Bobby’s Lunch Box. With Reynolds’ consultation Lorna P had composed a letter of apology to Eileen. She wished her well. She was not to ask her to come home. She was not to make any demands of her. All the letter was to do was to let her know that the mother was open to meeting should the daughter accept invitation. No mention was to be made of the baby.
In response to this letter Eileen accepted the invitation. She too said nothing of the baby.
Lorna P was keeping an eye out for her daughter. The young woman who had come in her place was not her daughter, at least in everything but the physical sense. She looked nothing like the way she had when she left. She had let her hair grow long. She wore a long, grey dress made from thick fabric. It spilled over her ankles. She had a purple ribbon tied around her neck and a Wigan pin on her breast.
“Who are you?” She asked Reynolds at first.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Eileen,” he said. “I’m John Reynolds. I was asked along by your mum. I was hoping we could have a chat.”
Eileen eyed him suspiciously but she took a seat at the diner booth.
“I don’t go by Eileen anymore,” she said. “I shed my city dweller name. They call me Heather now.”
“Heather?” Asked the mother. “Why Heather?”
Reynolds had encouraged her to ask questions as long as they weren’t asked in a challenging tone.
“It’s my favourite plant. You would know that if you knew anything about me,” the girl responded.
“We’re just here because we’re wanting to reconnect,” said Reynolds.
Heather, formally known as Eileen, scowled at him. She turned back to her mother.
“Been off the booze?” She asked her. “For how long this time?”
“For good,” she said. “I promise.”
Reynolds directed the conversation. “We’re stoked that you came,” he said. “There’s no pressure on you. Your mum told me about your letter. You seemed really thrilled over on the island.”
“I am,” said Heather ney Eileen. She was beginning to wonder who this John Reynolds was. Why would he be associated with her mum? Surely he wasn’t a boyfriend. Although he looked like he was a bit of a boozer too so maybe that was how they were connected. Was he her sponsor?
“When you left you were pregnant,” said Reynolds. “Would you like to share what happened? Are you well?”
Eileen started to soften a little. No, not Eileen, her name was Heather now.
“I had a little girl. I named her Ivy.”
“Pretty name,” said Reynolds. “Your mum is glad to be a grandmother.”
“She couldn’t be a mother. What chance does she have of being a grandmother? Did she tell you who fucking knocked me up?”
“Wigan opens his arms to the sinners. You cannot be saved. Your baby cannot be saved. Your ma most definitely cannot be saved,” Dominick had said to her.
“I want to try, Eileen,” said Lorna P.
“My name is not Eileen! It’s Heather.” The girl shrieked. “I am a child of Wigan and he accepts me for all of my sins. You cast me out and he found me.”
Lorna P made to say something but Reynolds stopped her.
“So you took the oath,” he said with a casual calmness that eased the tension. “Who was your sponsor?”
Eileen was quite taken aback by Reynolds’ knowledge of it. Wait. No. Her name was Heather. She was Heather and she was a daughter of Wigan, not some drunk who let her step dad impregnate her.
“You’re a Wigan?” She asked. He had no tell tale signs. He had no pin. His mannerisms were far too mellow for someone who had taken the oath.
“I’m not,” Reynolds replied. “I am familiar with them though. Have you been to McIvor’s Ice Cream parlour over on the bay yet?”
“I have,” she admitted. “I go there quite often.”
“Do you have a favourite flavour?” He asked.
“Strawberry,” she replied.
“She always loved strawberry,” said Lorna P with some measure of pride.
“Some days it was all you gave me to eat,” responded the daughter.
“Family is more than blood. We are bound here stronger than any mother and child, any father and son, any brother and sister. We are the family of Wigan and we’re all here for each other,” said His Eminence.
It was the family that Heather needed. When she took the oath she felt complete. It was fate that the Harbour Master gave her that ticket. It was fate that she fell in love with His Eminence.
“The weather over there can be a little temperamental,” Reynolds said matter of factly.
Heather smiled. “These clothes keep me dry. These clothes keep me warm.”
The commune keeps you safe. The commune keeps you fed.
“I’m going to call you Eileen,” said Reynolds. “It’s not to upset you. If you have shed that name then that is your decision but your mum wants some closure before you return to the commune and it’s the name she recognises. It could be her chance to shed it too if it is what you really want.”
Lorna looked to Reynolds with some surprise. They hadn’t discussed the possibility of her never returning. That wasn’t part of the deal. She kept her mouth shut though. Reynolds seemed to have a handle on the situation.
“I have nothing left to say,” she said. “You can call me what you like. I know what my name is.”
LET THEM BE CONSUMED BY FIRE!
Coming back the city was not going to be easy. She had seen way too much. Her life had changed.
“If could just sit and maybe hear what your mum wants to say?” Reynolds urged.
Heather, no Eileen, was held in her place.
The smell of the burning flesh was stomach churning. At least it was at first.
Dominick had been screaming, “you cannot be saved!”
He was crazed but in that moment but as she watched him she could only think of how passionate he was and how much he loved his Wigan family. He was leading them into a future with furious fire. She had been so swept up she helped with the torches. The city dwellers screamed in pain but their cries for mercy were drowned out as the congregates began to sing.
‘Eileen. I’m going to call you Eileen. That is your name. You are not Heather. Heather was a bayside lunatic who watched four city dwellers burn. Heather gave birth to a little girl named Ivy. Heather danced with the strangely named River, Autumn and April whilst Ivy was blessed into the Wigan faith. Eileen was still on the docks contemplating becoming a prostitute.
You cannot be saved Eileen.
“Yes you can,” John Reynolds reminded her.
***
I pondered the question first before I voiced it.
“Did she come home?”
“It was one of those deals where you gotta count your blessings,” Reynolds said. “She was coming home. She had gotten as far as a little fishing boat she planned on rowing herself all the way over from the bay. She had Ivy with her.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“She disappeared.”
“Did she return to the commune?” I questioned.
“I don’t think so. She had made the resolve to leave. Rule number 36 of a cult deprogrammer: when the victim attempts to leave, the cult will use any force necessary to keep them.”
The truth of the matter was the little fishing boat had been found, beached just a little while along the coast. The blanket she had wrapped Ivy in was discarded, wet and sandy. Ivy was carried by River back to the commune. The seasons changed and the little girl grew beyond infancy. She didn’t know her mother. She didn’t know Heather. She most definitely would never have recognised Eileen. The Wigan life was what she came to know. Praise Wigan!
***
Discussing this case gave me a lot of food for thought. We can all find ourselves swept up in an ideology. It’s like an unstoppable force which in the hands of those who wield it well can be destructive. It takes people like John Reynolds to combat that kind of thinking. As he would say, ‘you can be saved. You can succeed. You can come back.’
How far must someone fall though before they are merely a sandy, soggy blanket on a discarded boat? Or a victim of a complete stranger’s anger?
John Reynolds will keep fighting on though until everything is groovy again.
When cult deprogrammer, John Reynolds, has someone close to him leave to join the Wigan cult on Hathfield Bay island he must put every skill he has learned to the test to bring them home.
Standing outside the Church of St Wigan, FATHER VERGER is greeting his congregates as they leave. He is approached by DELORES and her daughter TAWNY. DELORES Is dressed in a sombre black dress with a Wigan pin on her chest. TAWNY is dressed in a cheerful red dress with white polka dots.
DELORES
It was a beautiful service Father.
VERGER
Thank you Mrs McInney. I trust you are keeping well?
Turning his attention to TAWNY.
I would have thought you would have worn a more mournful outfit on account of your father.
TAWNY
Smiling warmly.
Pa hated to see people glum.
VERGER
Still, show a little respect.
TAWNY
Not paying much attention to the priest her focus is caught by someone waving to her from offstage.
Hi honey! It’s good to see ye. When did you get back?
Speaking to Delores.
Excuse me, ma.
TAWNY exits the stage.
DELORES
Shaking her head
I’m sorry Father. I thought with Reuben’s passing she would pray with me. Every week is a struggle to get her to come along.
VERGER
Looking over in TAWNY’S direction.
She needs the church’s guidance now more than ever. As her mother it is up to you to take care of her. Her immortal soul is at stake. St Wigan will impart the strength you need to correct her.
DELORES
I don’t want to lose her.
They both look towards offstage where TAWNY has just exited.
VERGER
Praise Wigan.
DELORES
Still looking after TAWNY.
Praise Wigan…
SCENE 2
Delores’ lounge. Evening.
DELORES is sat at home. The home appears draughty and uncomfortable. She is seated at a table centre stage where lighting is focused on a single empty plate and a Wigan book. DELORES is holding her Wigan pin in her hand. TAWNY is not present but her voice can be heard off stagein a dream like sound as DELORES reflects on her words.
TAWNY
Sounding as though she was in some pain when the words were spoken.
I am who I am!
DELORES
Rests her hand on the Wigan book.
I was worried about you. You were my daughter and you were putting yourself in mortal danger. I wish you could understand. If you turned to the Church maybe you could find forgiveness.
TAWNY
Crying.
Why can’t ye just love me for who I am?!
DELORES
Sighing she sniffs back the emotion.
I do love you. You’re my daughter. You wouldn’t listen to me and you made me angry. I was losing you and I had to do something. Ye were embarrassing yerself night after night like a wanton hussy.
TAWNY
If your church is asking you do this what kind of religion is it! Help me Ma!
DELORES raises a napkin to her lips.
DELORES
it was for your own good.
She sniffs again and composes herself.
You cannot be saved …
When Tabitha is sent to Hathfield Bay to meet her estranged grandma, she is given an inside look at the Cult of Wigan of which granny is a member.
I’ve had many strange dreams throughout my life. Maybe it’s the symptom of having an over active imagination. If you follow me on Twitter you may have heard me discuss this (@VivikaWidow).
The dream world has always fascinated me. Those little stories that your mind tells you as you sleep can be vivid and memorable. They can be akin to some of the best experiences of your real world and they can also make you realise worst. Since I’m a lover of all things macabre I’m going to take a look at some of the darker moments I have experienced in the dream world.
Spider child!
Yes you read that right. The earliest dream I can remember must have occurred when I was about six or seven. In the dream I had heard my mum wildly exclaiming at the news. (In real life this was no rare occurrence. She was an excitable sort). She was crying to my dad to get me away from. Whatever was on the news would be too much for my childish sensibilities. It didn’t work though. I saw the report. In the news report the journalist was discussing the spread of an unexplained phenomenon that was effecting children just like me. The footage showed a large spider in a box. This spider was unusual in that it had the head of a child. His name had been Ricky before. Now he was spider boy and not in a friendly neighbourhood spidey kind of way.
This was so upsetting for me. However, before I could process anything this dream was telling me I found myself at an indoor carnival. Who doesn’t hate clowns, right? I just happened to have watched Stephen King’s IT at the time and my elder brothers, the darlings that they were, told me Pennywise hid in my closet and waited for me to go to sleep so he could eat me. So as fun as this carnival was with all the lights, music and rides I was deeply concerned. I was on my own. I was lost. Then I saw a clown. (He was remarkably like Pennywise – no surprise). He was handing some candyfloss to a little girl with blonde pigtails and little pink glasses. The clown turned his attention on me. I knew better. My brothers had warned me so I ran away. I didn’t want any of his damn candyfloss.
Running away I stumbled into a storage room. I could hear the clown and all his clown friends looking for me. I could hear a rattle of something tapping against glass. As my eyes adjusted I could see hundreds of jars, each containing a child with a spider body. Including the little girl with pigtails!
“Come e’re!” The clown cried.
That’s when I woke up. I was so startled by this dream I was crying. It sounds like childhood fantasy now mixed with the unfortunate placement of being the youngest sibling in a household of wind up merchants.
Ducks in a row!
I was just a young teenager when I moved 200 miles away from my home to attend medical school. Needless to say it was a time of stress and big changes. It is common to experience vivid dreams during times like this.
During my first week of classes I had a dream whereby I was walking past a river and saw a group of baby ducks. A raft of ducks I believe is the proper term. These baby ducks were struggling to get back to the river so being the caring soul that I am I decided to lend a hand. I gather the ducks in my arms and start to head to water. One slips out and splats on the ground (complete with side effects and everything!). Then another slips. SPLAT! Then another. Before I know it all the ducks have splattered on the ground. With there being no real logic in dreams I scoop those splattered ducks up in my arms and still take them to the river. The ducks just fill with water …
This dream obviously speaks to my anxiety of beginning a new part of my life and moving away from home at a young age but it was really vivid at the time. It played on my mind for some time afterwards. Well, having just recounted it for you it seems it still plays on my mind …
Dream big!
Dreams aren’t all bad. There have been some where I’ve been rested on a beach with a bronzed hunk. There have been some where I’ve achieved impossible odds or met my idols. There have also been some where my devious sister in law has tried to send me into space or billions of years into the future. My point is, anxiety and hopes, fears and ambitions all reveal themselves in the dream world. When time comes for us to wake again it’s up to us to do decide what to do with that.
So tell me about your dreams. What’s some of the wildest you’ve had?
Speaking of nightmares … The circus is in town and there’s no coincidence home invasion robberies are on the rise.
Performers of Stoker Circus can slip in anywhere. When fresh money making opportunities are offered it may be their downfall.
Dennis is a disgusting individual. After a brutal attack he’s looking for some kind of redemption. Taking on the church he was raised in might be a good start.
Whores, thieves and murderers abound and yet none of them are as bad as Dennis Platt. God thing the Wigan church teaches, ‘you cannot be saved.’
“If you think I’m the worst thing that’s out there you ain’t seen nothing, pal.”
Dennis might be right because there’s a cult abound and their looking for new members.
Join the cult or join the ones set to bring it down. Your choice …
Enjoy this? Check out these other titles available now.
What can we say about Father Gerald ‘Jerry’ Owen? He is the shame of his powerful family and he cares not a jot about that fact. Over the years his decadent behaviour is well documented. Most notably he stands accused of abusing countless young girls, using his place in the Church of St Wigan as a cover.
Church of St Wigan on Hathfield Bay Island.
One of his victims includes the notable Boss Lady of the Knock Knock club, TABITHA. You will be pleased to note though that was where his life as a libertine came to an abrupt end. Details of his very disgraceful exit from society are still sketchy but it was confirmed he came to a grisly realisation he needed to stop thinking with his crotch!
Tabitha was just as feisty as a youngster.
Joining the church was something of a last resort for Jerry. His brothers, his father and his dear mother were all at their wit’s end. When the abuse started to surface more and more thanks to protests outside his church thanks to the Knock Knock Baroness, TAWNY, he realised his number was up. He was not immortal.
The Baroness was quite the Holy shit stirrer.
Jerry had an easy life in the Church. His family were huge benefactors so he had the largest parish and every luxury a Holy man could ever hope to indulge in. Things changed though. The Church fell to the new leadership who weren’t quite as sympathetic to his quirks. As with any cult It was time to follow or lose it all. When the purge came, Jerry Owen could not be saved.
Jerry Owen was sent into the priesthood to be hidden as the family shame. When the Church of St Wigan decide on a zealous new leader it could expose everything.
When Tabitha is sent to Hathfield Bay to meet her estranged grandma, she is given an inside look at the Cult of Wigan of which granny is a member.
Growing up Tabitha had only heard tales from her aunt of how cruel her grandma was. Now she has the chance to meet her. Will it be tea and biscuits or prayers and lashes?
Some people become hard hearted trying to protect their soul. Some souls cannot be saved. A last chance to connect with family leads to an unexpected connection.
A mysterious illness and a desperate phone call sends Cult Deprogrammer Reynolds’ sights on the Wigan faith of Hathfield Bay island. Time to face the past.
Cult deprogrammer, John Reynolds is called to action when a close friend joins the Church of St Wigan.
With the help of a pandering con man, Reynolds uncovers a much larger problem as new Wigan Church leader, Dominick, sets his sights on cleansing the city.
We’ve all fallen into holes throughout our lives but do we have the strength pull ourselves out of it?
“You cannot be saved but repent and you may, just may, be forgiven.”
Dennis has managed the Knock Knock club and never was there a dirtier job. Would you believe me if I told you he had done worse? Does he now have what it takes to put his past behind him?
L
Coming 2021, from the Author of MAESTRO ; MUSE and HARBOUR HOUSE , step outside the Knock Knock club and head on over to Hathfield Bay Island for a nail biting, knuckle whiting , full in your face exciting glimpse into the lowest depths of humanity.
Available now:
You can get all the latest updates from the Coldford Daily by subscribing to the VW newsletter.
Processing…
Welcome. You're now a member. Shhhh!
Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.
