Henry Hawthorne

My child, Kingsmouth Congregational is always open these days, especially now my flock is considerably reduced. But even if we had holy water, I'm afraid it would've run dry by now. If the good Sheriff sent you, tell her I’m doing just fine. I have my books and I have the Lord. And a .44 behind the pulpit. For differences of faith.

We don’t usually do confessions but, well, your secrets are safe with me. As God and Kingsmouth’s founding fathers are my witness, I’ve heard and seen it all. The great and the small. Or maybe, looking at you, we’re both in the business of secrets, if you follow my meaning?

This is no Armageddon. I hope you’re not disappointed. The Mayans might have blocked it in on their calendars, but we have enough of heaven and earth illuminated to us to know better. God bless the internet. Knowledge is power, especially with Google on your side.

Do you think this is God’s work? Hardly. If God was done with us, surely he would just send down a meteor to finish the job. No, this is all a puzzle. A puzzle that the pieces of this town were fashioned – just so – to fit by Solomon Priest, I’m sure of it. Solomon Priest. That name says a lot about the man, don’t you agree? King Solomon, now there’s an interesting fellow…

Look at the churchyard there, chewed up like Susie’s clam chowder. I’ve been keeping a headcount. Blessings to re-administer, plots to be re-turfed, other unfortunate logistical problems. Certain discrepancies with the deceased.

I mean, out here where there’s more ground than people, interment is a God-given right. But in some cases – with out-of-towners, mostly – the students from the Academy… Well, I believe it is for science, for the advancement of mankind, yes, an enlightened pursuit. A noble tradition. And…boys will be boys.