The Reverends son

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Well...this was quite a terrifying story to end a day's worth of reviewing....gonna say that right off that bat...but yeah...I definitely enjoyed it, you do a really good job here with the building of tension and then working all those mysterious supernatural elements into it.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Russell the reverend’s son was no ordinary boy. At first, the townsfolk feared for the poor boy. Now they fear for themselves. The feeling of security across the small village had only diminished since his execution. The young boy had unspeakable abilities, which he first discovered on the twelfth of October. His father had tasked him with purchasing a loaf of bread from the market, so young Russell left the church to the village square. As he returned to his home, he spied the carcass of a striped rodent, which lay upon the side of the gravel road, still as a stone. Russell crouched near the deceased creature, reaching out and touching its blood-caked pelt. The sun dipped below the horizon at that moment. The sudden nightfall brought with it a thick fog and an eerie chill. Russell stood quickly and turned away from the horrid thing. His gut urged him to run, but he maintained his composure and began to walk. He felt uneasy and hesitated, during which he heard a faint scuttling from behind him. He whirled around with utmost speed, peering at the spot in which the thing formerly lay dead. A milky beam of moonlight shot through a parting in the fog, displaying the vacant resting place. The young boy feared for his life. The rodent had been dead only a moment before, he was sure of it!

The reverend calmed the young boy after he burst through the heavy doors of the candlelit chapel. “Your mind deceives you, child. It was only a shadow,” he explained, irate that the boy had dropped the loaves of bread. “And now you have ruined our dinner. You shall not sleep inside tonight.”

But the child could not sleep. He didn’t think he ever could again. The darkness under the tall trees mocked him, and the shadows stretched towards him, beckoning Russell to come closer.

Russell’s heart beat on through the night. Incidents of missing corpses from the grave yard were reported, more and more often. Russell’s heart continued to beat. Ghostly figures were said to lurk in the woods, and rumors of the boys curse spread throughout the community of frightened villagers. Russell’s heart continued to beat. The child yearned for the sweet relief of sleep, as the rumors of deaths caused by, “Supernatural causes,” came from neighboring towns. Russell’s heart continued to beat. Late at night, the child overheard his father speaking of visits from his dead relatives. The small cemetery beside the church had now been emptied. Russell’s heart continued to beat. No man dared leave the safety of his home after the sun had set. The corpses of the once dead roamed the streets and villages, with no apparent objective other than cursing all that lie under the moon. The peasants grew from their constant fear and turned to anger, directed at the reverends youngest son. Russell’s heart continued to beat. On the Thirty-First of October, the entire population of the village gathered before the church. They demanded an end to their curse. The reverend had little choice, so he brought forth his son. Russell’s heart continued to beat. “Necromancer!” cried the mob, “Demon!” They would not leave until the poor boy’s blood was spilled. Russell’s heart continued to beat. The mob took the child, carried him to the gallows. That night, the boy was hung. As he hung there lifeless and morbid, a hush fell over the mob. The reverend sobbed, and took down his son from the tree of death. The boy was carried by his father into the dark woods, away from the eyes of the terrified townspeople. Deep in the woods, the child was propped against the stump of a dead tree. The reverend left, and never returned. And Russell’s heart continued to beat.

I saw that you only have 4 paragraphs, 2 of them big clumps. If you want to keep it that way, that's fine, but it's just easier to read when it's spread out.
Besides that, this story is sad and descriptive, words like "irate". This review is mostly to praise on your work, in which I can't even find anything that is grammatically incorrect. I didn't find it at all creepy, if that was what you were aiming at slightly, I'm assuming not though. What you wrote had power behind it even though it was short, it still explained a complex tale.


How it'd look like if it was spaced out more:
Russell the reverend’s son was no ordinary boy. At first, the townsfolk feared for the poor boy. Now they fear for themselves. The feeling of security across the small village had only diminished since his execution. The young boy had unspeakable abilities, which he first discovered on the twelfth of October. His father had tasked him with purchasing a loaf of bread from the market, so young Russell left the church to the village square. As he returned to his home, he spied the carcass of a striped rodent, which lay upon the side of the gravel road, still as a stone. Russell crouched near the deceased creature, reaching out and touching its blood-caked pelt.

The sun dipped below the horizon at that moment. The sudden nightfall brought with it a thick fog and an eerie chill. Russell stood quickly and turned away from the horrid thing. His gut urged him to run, but he maintained his composure and began to walk. He felt uneasy and hesitated, during which he heard a faint scuttling from behind him. He whirled around with utmost speed, peering at the spot in which the thing formerly lay dead. A milky beam of moonlight shot through a parting in the fog, displaying the vacant resting place. The young boy feared for his life. The rodent had been dead only a moment before, he was sure of it!

The reverend calmed the young boy after he burst through the heavy doors of the candlelit chapel. “Your mind deceives you, child. It was only a shadow,” he explained, irate that the boy had dropped the loaves of bread. “And now you have ruined our dinner. You shall not sleep inside tonight.”

But the child could not sleep. He didn’t think he ever could again. The darkness under the tall trees mocked him, and the shadows stretched towards him, beckoning Russell to come closer.

Russell’s heart beat on through the night. Incidents of missing corpses from the grave yard were reported, more and more often. Russell’s heart continued to beat. Ghostly figures were said to lurk in the woods, and rumors of the boys curse spread throughout the community of frightened villagers. Russell’s heart continued to beat. The child yearned for the sweet relief of sleep, as the rumors of deaths caused by, “Supernatural causes,” came from neighboring towns.

Russell’s heart continued to beat. Late at night, the child overheard his father speaking of visits from his dead relatives. The small cemetery beside the church had now been emptied. Russell’s heart continued to beat. No man dared leave the safety of his home after the sun had set. The corpses of the once dead roamed the streets and villages, with no apparent objective other than cursing all that lie under the moon.

The peasants grew from their constant fear and turned to anger, directed at the reverends youngest son. Russell’s heart continued to beat. On the Thirty-First of October, the entire population of the village gathered before the church. They demanded an end to their curse. The reverend had little choice, so he brought forth his son. Russell’s heart continued to beat. “Necromancer!” cried the mob, “Demon!” They would not leave until the poor boy’s blood was spilled. Russell’s heart continued to beat. The mob took the child, carried him to the gallows.

That night, the boy was hung. As he hung there lifeless and morbid, a hush fell over the mob. The reverend sobbed, and took down his son from the tree of death. The boy was carried by his father into the dark woods, away from the eyes of the terrified townspeople. Deep in the woods, the child was propped against the stump of a dead tree. The reverend left, and never returned. And Russell’s heart continued to beat.

Ignore this post

Knight Dragon, here to review on this wonderful Review Day!

Well, I don't know if I'd say it feels stereotypical (yet), but I'm definitely wanting less aloofness from the narrator. The narrator is very matter-of-fact, and yet objective almost to a fault.
Part of the off-setting nature of the narrator is the lack of a definitive verb tense.
Example:

Russell the reverend’s son was no ordinary boy. At first, the townsfolk feared for the poor boy. Now they fear for themselves. The feeling of security across the small village had only diminished since his execution.

His father had tasked him with purchasing a loaf of bread from the market, so young Russell left the church to the village square. As he returned to his home, he spied the carcass of a striped rodent, which lay upon the side of the gravel road, still as a stone.

He whirled around with utmost speed...

Incidents of missing corpses from the grave yard were reported, more and more often.

Ghostly figures were said to lurk in the woods, and rumors of the boys curse spread throughout the community of frightened villagers.

This review courtesy of

Hey buddy thanks for this interesting story.

Now for the nitpicks which are few are during the beginging where you wrote the feared for the boy, I don't know if you meant it to read thy feared the boy. As for the intro it isn't stereotypical and I rather enjoyed how he wasn't a mary sue. He actually died! which is unique most don't kill the main character off. What would help would to add more details was the mother like that? what happemed to the boy afterward. Is there more toerd the story? other than that I really liked how you took the take of this story.

Hey Buddy! Thanks for sharing!

I have only a few nitpicks, mainly:

Break up your writing! It's important that you present your story in a concise, easily digested manner. Your paragraphs are Godzilla sized, so it was a bit of an ordeal to read the whole thing.

The intro was a bit repetitive,

Russell the reverend’s son was no ordinary boy. At first, the townsfolk feared for the poor boy. Now they fear for themselves.