Alley was only ten. He sat on a wide, grass-woven mat, shaking, as he faced an altar—a long low table covered in a white tablecloth. On it were statues of large golden faces and different types of food and fruits he would only often see at a funeral.
There were numerous thick white candles, lit and scattered around, and multiple incense sticks stuck on burners.
The reason for it, he didn't know. He only obeyed his parents, who were currently watching from the sides, hands clasped with pained expressions.
Seeing them like that infected him with the same anxiety, of what was to come. He traced back his memories and recalled the moment that had changed everything.
"Ma, that man will soon be possessed... there's a scary smoke above him."
It would have been a thing Fiona could brush off coming from a child, but when the man was possessed days later, his parents were concerned.
