All Gone
All Gone
S.K. White
ISBN 978-1-914301-18-6
https://amzn.to/3gvbbhK
Chapter One
6-20-2024
Freelance investigative reporter, Paige Martin, glimpsed down at her tablet and clicked on a video entitled Amazing Crop Circles. She watched as a crop circle magically carved its way into the landscape. Paige tossed back her head, removed several loose strands of her honey blonde hair out of the way and drew her blue eyes closer to the screen.
“Holy shit!” She pushed pause, leaned back in her chair and stared at the provocative image. “This can’t be real?” Paige stuck her fingers in the ceramic bowl and fumbled through a mass of elastic hairbands, clamps, paperclips, barrettes and hair clips. She pulled out a hair clip and secured her wayward strands. After clipping the shoulder-length offenders, she hit play and finished the video.
Other links from around the world popped up, so she clicked on each link, and the same crop circle appeared in different countries. She scrolled back to each previous clip. “They all appeared today.” She glanced at the repetitive date displayed around the circle. “Huh? 4-20-25 Very odd.”
Paige grabbed a Post-it, wrote the date and time, and underlined the numbers four, twenty and twenty-five. Then she wrinkled her forehead, clicked on the videos and viewed them several more times. “It looks real. Better make sure the last one was a hoax.”
She jerked as her phone vibrated then swiped the call icon. “Kent.”
“Hey, girl. I’m headed to examine the second sighting several miles outside of LA.” Kent drew in a deep breath. “No time to talk now. Paige, this could be it.”
Paige pressed the phone closer to her lips. “Call me if the sighting is confirmed.”
“Will do.” Kent hung up.
Paige bit her bottom lip. “Damn. If Kent’s going, they must be real. He’s the expert on UFOs.”
She heated the teakettle and retrieved a pastry from the kitchen counter. As her English Breakfast tea steeped, Paige bit into her glazed donut and scanned the files on her tablet. Then she licked the glaze off her fingertips, clicked on a file she’d saved on crop circles and tapped the record button to dictate. She replayed the videos of the old crop circles and compared them to the newest ones.
“No similarities. The old ones vary like snowflakes, but the new ones are identical in shape, size, and content.” She zoomed in on New York and LA. “One large circle and a smaller circle in the center. Stick figures huddled inside the small circle.” Paige bent forward. “All of them pointing to the sky.” She leaned back, focused on the outer edge of the large circle and the series of numbers repeating 4-20-25. “Damn! In between each series of numbers are several primitive or antiquated-looking symbols.” Paige zoomed in on each of the ciphers. “They look like the ancient symbols I’ve found in archeology books that were painted or carved on rock walls or pyramids. Must be a reference to a religion or several ancient cultures. Maybe 4-20-25 refers to a very specific date. Perhaps the stick figures pointing up toward the sky are instructions to view the heavens on that date.”
Paige’s phone beeped. Kent had sent a text.
>Check your email.
He’d forwarded several links from work contacts. Paige clicked on the new links and viewed several images from Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, Mexico, and Australia. Kent had included several pictures he’d taken in New York and a few pics from members of MUFON—the Mutual UFO Network.
>After I finish in LA, I’m headed to Asia. I’ll send you any information I collect.
Paige selected a happy emoji and pushed send.
Paige stared at the symbols on her tablet. “If anyone can decipher these symbols, it’s Andrea.”
She snatched her phone and swiped Andrea’s phone number. Andrea answered, and Paige enlarged the symbols on the crop circle. “Andrea, besides the fact that the date coincides with Easter, do you have any idea what the other symbols represent?”
“I noticed Easter too. Provocative isn’t it.” Andrea cleared her throat. “I’ve consulted with several colleagues from different universities, and we’ve all reached a consensus about the symbols. I’ll email the groups’ analysis to you now. Take a look and call me back if you have any questions. Paige, this is seismic.”
Paige scrolled through the ancient symbols from Christianity, Islam, Native American, Baháʼí, and several eastern religions. “Damn! Andrea’s symbols match those found in the new crop circles.”
She reviewed the rest of the information from Andrea and emailed her.
Thanks, Andrea, I promise to send a copy of my article when I finish.
Paige incorporated Kent’s pictures and information from New York and LA into with Andrea’s findings and wrote an article on the new crop circles. Two days later, she sold her article, lifted a glass of Merlot and emailed a copy to Kent and Andrea.
Within four days, every evangelical preacher and religious leader had weighed in on the meaning of the symbols. Paige hit the play button on her tablet and turned up the volume.
Followers, this is the end of the world. It is the second coming. Prepare!
Paige selected videos from several other televangelists and radio talk show hosts that were dominating the internet and the airwaves, and they all echoed the same sentiment—prepare for the second coming.
By the end of the week, UFO enthusiasts joined in and appeared on talk shows. Paige grabbed her teacup, propped her legs on the coffee table and took a sip. The host turned to one of his guests and asked, “What do you make of this?”
The man sat up straight. “This looks like it may be an opportunity for first contact with extraterrestrials. I believe they will arrive on April twentieth, 2025. The numbers coincide with Easter. Perhaps this represents the dawning of a new beginning. I acknowledge its importance by the way the numbers are displayed repetitively. It is also clear to me that something will appear in the sky on that date, and, logically, that could happen at the locations of the first crop circles. However, all of us, whether as science enthusiasts or religious scholars, must remain skeptical at this time. We must ask ourselves, is this real or an elaborate hoax? Or could this be a huge conspiracy?”
Paige clicked off the television. “Real or hoax? If this is a conspiracy, it’s a damn good one.”
The next day, Paige seized the remote and pressed the on button. A charismatic evangelical preacher filled the screen. She snatched her notepad out of her backpack and wrote down his name, the local church he was affiliated with, and the cable station he preached from. Just before five, she called and set up an interview for the following week with Reverend Paul Stevens. Then she hung up her smartphone, set it down on the coffee table and headed to her bedroom to get ready to meet Logan for dinner.
After her shower, Paige dressed in her favorite crimson wrap dress with the low neckline then reached down in the closet, grabbed her black stiletto heels and carried them into her living room. She threw her shoes down next to the coffee table and reached for the phone. Logan’s picture appeared with a text message. Paige read it then tossed her phone down on the table.
“Dinner canceled again. The ER’s shorthanded! He’s always covering for the other doctors.”
She stormed over to the wine rack, opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass. She fixed a chicken salad sandwich, grabbed her wine and headed back to the coffee table. She tapped DVR, chose a chick flick from the menu and nibbled on chicken salad and rye bread.
Around midnight, Paige opened her eyes to a home shopping commercial blasting the latest must-have crap. She fumbled for the empty bottle of Merlot and kissed it.
“You’re the only thing that’s cuddling me tonight. Logan and I have been together for three years, but according to him, we’re in no hurry to get married. Hell, no. We bought our dream house, and he decided to remodel it first. So, with our wedding on hold until the house is finished, and Logan staying there to oversee its progress and me here at the apartment, we never see each other.” Paige hugged the bottle. “I thought if I stayed here I might see him more with all the late on-calls in the ER, but no… what does he do? He stays at that damn hospital instead. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to join him at the dream house on Thursdays, but when I go, he’s never there.” She lifted her bottle. “What’s a girl to do? Huh? Screw it, I’m going to bed.”
Paige turned off the TV and tossed the bottle in the trash. She pulled off her dress, tripped over the skirt and stumbled into bed.
In the early morning hours, Paige opened one eye as Logan crept in and crawled into bed beside her. She mumbled, “Glad you could join me.”
Logan nuzzled. “What’s that, babe?”
“Nothing. Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
***
A week later, Paige ambled into the reverend’s elaborate megachurch. Marble stairs led up to the podium, with two beautiful statues of angels standing on both sides. Stained glass windows depicting the second coming served as a background behind the podium for the Sunday sermons.
Reverend Stevens walked up behind Paige. “Ms. Martin?”
Paige spun around. “Yes. What a beautiful church you have.”
The reverend held out his hand. “Welcome. Please come into my office.” He motioned to a room off to the side, and the two entered his elaborate oak-trimmed office.
Once inside, he pointed to a chair in the front of his desk. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Paige sat down, retrieved her tablet from her handbag and opened it up. She inspected the reverend’s eyes to size up his motives, searching his steely dark irises for clues to the windows of his soul and attempting to get a read on the good reverend’s intentions. She squinted her eyes and typed.
First impressions. Oh yeah, this good reverend and his elaborate church is out to score mega money from the many souls that fill his pews. I’ll bet the collection plates he passes around every Sunday and the tithings gathered monthly from the faithful contribute to the cause. The collections from his cable show that airs every Wednesday night and the cash deposits on his bank statements every month are definitely motivators for this goodly preacher to reach as many souls as possible.
Paige lifted her head, hit record and studied his plastic smile as he rambled on. Images of old ladies sending in their last savings to ensure their salvation invaded her thoughts.
The reverend coughed. “So, you have questions for me, I presume?”
“Yes. I was interested in your interpretation of the meaning of the crop circles. I have been researching and writing articles about the varying opinions on their meaning. I would like to hear your personal perception.”
The reverend drew in a breath. “Well, the religious symbols lead me to believe the message is for the believers, and the image pointing to the skies tell me to be watchful.”
Paige adjusted her tablet and held her stare. “What will you be watching for?”
The reverend shot her a half-smile. “You want me to tell you if I think it is the second coming of Christ, don’t you?”
“You did say that on your TV show.”
“Yes, I did.” The reverend raised his eyebrows and bent forward. “I think we should be prepared for it, don’t you?”
Paige peered up from her tablet. “So, you believe this is the first sign of the apocalypse?”
“I have looked at the state of the world these last few years, and I believe all the signs are already here.” The reverend raised his hands in the air. “We are just waiting for Christ’s triumphant return.”
“So, you believe Jesus is coming on April twentieth, 2025?”
“I believe we should be ready. That’s Easter Sunday, and I intend to help my parishioners get prepared for his arrival.” The reverend narrowed his eyes. “What about you, Ms. Martin? Will you be ready?”
Paige paused and lifted her fingers from the tablet. “Either way, I will.”
“If I can help, let me know.” The reverend stood, leaned over his desk and held out his hand.
Realizing the interview had just ended, Paige stopped, bit her lip, put her tablet in her bag, stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time.”
The reverend squeezed her hand, then put his left hand over hers and patted it. “I’m glad I could help.”
His cold, dark eyes pierced her. She shivered, released her hand from his grasp and muttered, “Thanks again.”
He bobbed his head in response and held up his hand. “Please send me a copy of your article when you’re finished.”
“Happy to do that, Reverend,” Paige said and walked out of the room.
She wiped her hand on her slacks, balanced her bag over her shoulder and scanned the rows and rows of pews. These must hold thousands. I wonder if the good reverend fills every pew on his Sunday sermons. There’s no doubt that as the date of the sighting draws closer, this church will be standing room only.
A month later, Paige finished her two-page article on Reverend Paul Stevens and his megachurch and sent him a copy, but she never heard back from him.
***
On November 5, after three grueling months of interviewing experts and writing articles on crop circles, Paige typed the last word on her latest article and hit send. She grasped her glass of Merlot and sighed.
“Finally finished. Now it’s just you and me.” She took a sip and swirled its contents. “So, my friend, you dark, rich red beauty, the debate continues, and each group declares its own side. The religious are convinced it’s the second coming, and the UFO enthusiasts draw large crowds ready to meet a first contact. Whether for a religious reason or a close encounter, the results will be the same—people will gather by the thousands where the crop circles appeared last year.” She swigged the remains of the scarlet liquid. “Another article done, my friend, and it’s time to bid you goodnight. Tomorrow James and I head to Rio and beyond.”
The next morning, Paige set out on her journey for answers. Chasing the story of a lifetime, Paige and James, her longtime photographer, flew to Rio, Cairo, Israel, Islamabad, Beijing, and Moscow to cover the gatherings.
On March 20, 2025, Kent joined Paige and James in London, and the three went on to Rome near the Vatican. Once at the Vatican, they mingled among a large crowd of the faithful. Paige stood shoulder to shoulder with a sea of people waiting for words of comfort from the Pope. He walked out onto the balcony dressed in a long white robe and raised his hands in the air. The crowd fell silent. He waved his hands.
“We must prepare and accept a second coming or, if God willing, the unknown.” Heads bowed in prayer and tears ran down the people’s faces. James snapped pictures of the faithful’s response to the Pope’s words. After the Pope left, many followers stayed behind and knelt in prayer.
The faithful returned for several more days in search of solace, but as the date drew closer, Paige noticed more and more people were leaving the Vatican and congregating at the original crop circle in a farmer’s field just outside of Rome. Paige stared out over the congregation. “It’s time to go home.”
On April 18, Paige, James and Kent headed back to New York to witness the final viewing.
S.K. White
ISBN 978-1-914301-18-6
https://amzn.to/3gvbbhK
Chapter One
6-20-2024
Freelance investigative reporter, Paige Martin, glimpsed down at her tablet and clicked on a video entitled Amazing Crop Circles. She watched as a crop circle magically carved its way into the landscape. Paige tossed back her head, removed several loose strands of her honey blonde hair out of the way and drew her blue eyes closer to the screen.
“Holy shit!” She pushed pause, leaned back in her chair and stared at the provocative image. “This can’t be real?” Paige stuck her fingers in the ceramic bowl and fumbled through a mass of elastic hairbands, clamps, paperclips, barrettes and hair clips. She pulled out a hair clip and secured her wayward strands. After clipping the shoulder-length offenders, she hit play and finished the video.
Other links from around the world popped up, so she clicked on each link, and the same crop circle appeared in different countries. She scrolled back to each previous clip. “They all appeared today.” She glanced at the repetitive date displayed around the circle. “Huh? 4-20-25 Very odd.”
Paige grabbed a Post-it, wrote the date and time, and underlined the numbers four, twenty and twenty-five. Then she wrinkled her forehead, clicked on the videos and viewed them several more times. “It looks real. Better make sure the last one was a hoax.”
She jerked as her phone vibrated then swiped the call icon. “Kent.”
“Hey, girl. I’m headed to examine the second sighting several miles outside of LA.” Kent drew in a deep breath. “No time to talk now. Paige, this could be it.”
Paige pressed the phone closer to her lips. “Call me if the sighting is confirmed.”
“Will do.” Kent hung up.
Paige bit her bottom lip. “Damn. If Kent’s going, they must be real. He’s the expert on UFOs.”
She heated the teakettle and retrieved a pastry from the kitchen counter. As her English Breakfast tea steeped, Paige bit into her glazed donut and scanned the files on her tablet. Then she licked the glaze off her fingertips, clicked on a file she’d saved on crop circles and tapped the record button to dictate. She replayed the videos of the old crop circles and compared them to the newest ones.
“No similarities. The old ones vary like snowflakes, but the new ones are identical in shape, size, and content.” She zoomed in on New York and LA. “One large circle and a smaller circle in the center. Stick figures huddled inside the small circle.” Paige bent forward. “All of them pointing to the sky.” She leaned back, focused on the outer edge of the large circle and the series of numbers repeating 4-20-25. “Damn! In between each series of numbers are several primitive or antiquated-looking symbols.” Paige zoomed in on each of the ciphers. “They look like the ancient symbols I’ve found in archeology books that were painted or carved on rock walls or pyramids. Must be a reference to a religion or several ancient cultures. Maybe 4-20-25 refers to a very specific date. Perhaps the stick figures pointing up toward the sky are instructions to view the heavens on that date.”
Paige’s phone beeped. Kent had sent a text.
>Check your email.
He’d forwarded several links from work contacts. Paige clicked on the new links and viewed several images from Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, Mexico, and Australia. Kent had included several pictures he’d taken in New York and a few pics from members of MUFON—the Mutual UFO Network.
>After I finish in LA, I’m headed to Asia. I’ll send you any information I collect.
Paige selected a happy emoji and pushed send.
Paige stared at the symbols on her tablet. “If anyone can decipher these symbols, it’s Andrea.”
She snatched her phone and swiped Andrea’s phone number. Andrea answered, and Paige enlarged the symbols on the crop circle. “Andrea, besides the fact that the date coincides with Easter, do you have any idea what the other symbols represent?”
“I noticed Easter too. Provocative isn’t it.” Andrea cleared her throat. “I’ve consulted with several colleagues from different universities, and we’ve all reached a consensus about the symbols. I’ll email the groups’ analysis to you now. Take a look and call me back if you have any questions. Paige, this is seismic.”
Paige scrolled through the ancient symbols from Christianity, Islam, Native American, Baháʼí, and several eastern religions. “Damn! Andrea’s symbols match those found in the new crop circles.”
She reviewed the rest of the information from Andrea and emailed her.
Thanks, Andrea, I promise to send a copy of my article when I finish.
Paige incorporated Kent’s pictures and information from New York and LA into with Andrea’s findings and wrote an article on the new crop circles. Two days later, she sold her article, lifted a glass of Merlot and emailed a copy to Kent and Andrea.
Within four days, every evangelical preacher and religious leader had weighed in on the meaning of the symbols. Paige hit the play button on her tablet and turned up the volume.
Followers, this is the end of the world. It is the second coming. Prepare!
Paige selected videos from several other televangelists and radio talk show hosts that were dominating the internet and the airwaves, and they all echoed the same sentiment—prepare for the second coming.
By the end of the week, UFO enthusiasts joined in and appeared on talk shows. Paige grabbed her teacup, propped her legs on the coffee table and took a sip. The host turned to one of his guests and asked, “What do you make of this?”
The man sat up straight. “This looks like it may be an opportunity for first contact with extraterrestrials. I believe they will arrive on April twentieth, 2025. The numbers coincide with Easter. Perhaps this represents the dawning of a new beginning. I acknowledge its importance by the way the numbers are displayed repetitively. It is also clear to me that something will appear in the sky on that date, and, logically, that could happen at the locations of the first crop circles. However, all of us, whether as science enthusiasts or religious scholars, must remain skeptical at this time. We must ask ourselves, is this real or an elaborate hoax? Or could this be a huge conspiracy?”
Paige clicked off the television. “Real or hoax? If this is a conspiracy, it’s a damn good one.”
The next day, Paige seized the remote and pressed the on button. A charismatic evangelical preacher filled the screen. She snatched her notepad out of her backpack and wrote down his name, the local church he was affiliated with, and the cable station he preached from. Just before five, she called and set up an interview for the following week with Reverend Paul Stevens. Then she hung up her smartphone, set it down on the coffee table and headed to her bedroom to get ready to meet Logan for dinner.
After her shower, Paige dressed in her favorite crimson wrap dress with the low neckline then reached down in the closet, grabbed her black stiletto heels and carried them into her living room. She threw her shoes down next to the coffee table and reached for the phone. Logan’s picture appeared with a text message. Paige read it then tossed her phone down on the table.
“Dinner canceled again. The ER’s shorthanded! He’s always covering for the other doctors.”
She stormed over to the wine rack, opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass. She fixed a chicken salad sandwich, grabbed her wine and headed back to the coffee table. She tapped DVR, chose a chick flick from the menu and nibbled on chicken salad and rye bread.
Around midnight, Paige opened her eyes to a home shopping commercial blasting the latest must-have crap. She fumbled for the empty bottle of Merlot and kissed it.
“You’re the only thing that’s cuddling me tonight. Logan and I have been together for three years, but according to him, we’re in no hurry to get married. Hell, no. We bought our dream house, and he decided to remodel it first. So, with our wedding on hold until the house is finished, and Logan staying there to oversee its progress and me here at the apartment, we never see each other.” Paige hugged the bottle. “I thought if I stayed here I might see him more with all the late on-calls in the ER, but no… what does he do? He stays at that damn hospital instead. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to join him at the dream house on Thursdays, but when I go, he’s never there.” She lifted her bottle. “What’s a girl to do? Huh? Screw it, I’m going to bed.”
Paige turned off the TV and tossed the bottle in the trash. She pulled off her dress, tripped over the skirt and stumbled into bed.
In the early morning hours, Paige opened one eye as Logan crept in and crawled into bed beside her. She mumbled, “Glad you could join me.”
Logan nuzzled. “What’s that, babe?”
“Nothing. Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
***
A week later, Paige ambled into the reverend’s elaborate megachurch. Marble stairs led up to the podium, with two beautiful statues of angels standing on both sides. Stained glass windows depicting the second coming served as a background behind the podium for the Sunday sermons.
Reverend Stevens walked up behind Paige. “Ms. Martin?”
Paige spun around. “Yes. What a beautiful church you have.”
The reverend held out his hand. “Welcome. Please come into my office.” He motioned to a room off to the side, and the two entered his elaborate oak-trimmed office.
Once inside, he pointed to a chair in the front of his desk. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Paige sat down, retrieved her tablet from her handbag and opened it up. She inspected the reverend’s eyes to size up his motives, searching his steely dark irises for clues to the windows of his soul and attempting to get a read on the good reverend’s intentions. She squinted her eyes and typed.
First impressions. Oh yeah, this good reverend and his elaborate church is out to score mega money from the many souls that fill his pews. I’ll bet the collection plates he passes around every Sunday and the tithings gathered monthly from the faithful contribute to the cause. The collections from his cable show that airs every Wednesday night and the cash deposits on his bank statements every month are definitely motivators for this goodly preacher to reach as many souls as possible.
Paige lifted her head, hit record and studied his plastic smile as he rambled on. Images of old ladies sending in their last savings to ensure their salvation invaded her thoughts.
The reverend coughed. “So, you have questions for me, I presume?”
“Yes. I was interested in your interpretation of the meaning of the crop circles. I have been researching and writing articles about the varying opinions on their meaning. I would like to hear your personal perception.”
The reverend drew in a breath. “Well, the religious symbols lead me to believe the message is for the believers, and the image pointing to the skies tell me to be watchful.”
Paige adjusted her tablet and held her stare. “What will you be watching for?”
The reverend shot her a half-smile. “You want me to tell you if I think it is the second coming of Christ, don’t you?”
“You did say that on your TV show.”
“Yes, I did.” The reverend raised his eyebrows and bent forward. “I think we should be prepared for it, don’t you?”
Paige peered up from her tablet. “So, you believe this is the first sign of the apocalypse?”
“I have looked at the state of the world these last few years, and I believe all the signs are already here.” The reverend raised his hands in the air. “We are just waiting for Christ’s triumphant return.”
“So, you believe Jesus is coming on April twentieth, 2025?”
“I believe we should be ready. That’s Easter Sunday, and I intend to help my parishioners get prepared for his arrival.” The reverend narrowed his eyes. “What about you, Ms. Martin? Will you be ready?”
Paige paused and lifted her fingers from the tablet. “Either way, I will.”
“If I can help, let me know.” The reverend stood, leaned over his desk and held out his hand.
Realizing the interview had just ended, Paige stopped, bit her lip, put her tablet in her bag, stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time.”
The reverend squeezed her hand, then put his left hand over hers and patted it. “I’m glad I could help.”
His cold, dark eyes pierced her. She shivered, released her hand from his grasp and muttered, “Thanks again.”
He bobbed his head in response and held up his hand. “Please send me a copy of your article when you’re finished.”
“Happy to do that, Reverend,” Paige said and walked out of the room.
She wiped her hand on her slacks, balanced her bag over her shoulder and scanned the rows and rows of pews. These must hold thousands. I wonder if the good reverend fills every pew on his Sunday sermons. There’s no doubt that as the date of the sighting draws closer, this church will be standing room only.
A month later, Paige finished her two-page article on Reverend Paul Stevens and his megachurch and sent him a copy, but she never heard back from him.
***
On November 5, after three grueling months of interviewing experts and writing articles on crop circles, Paige typed the last word on her latest article and hit send. She grasped her glass of Merlot and sighed.
“Finally finished. Now it’s just you and me.” She took a sip and swirled its contents. “So, my friend, you dark, rich red beauty, the debate continues, and each group declares its own side. The religious are convinced it’s the second coming, and the UFO enthusiasts draw large crowds ready to meet a first contact. Whether for a religious reason or a close encounter, the results will be the same—people will gather by the thousands where the crop circles appeared last year.” She swigged the remains of the scarlet liquid. “Another article done, my friend, and it’s time to bid you goodnight. Tomorrow James and I head to Rio and beyond.”
The next morning, Paige set out on her journey for answers. Chasing the story of a lifetime, Paige and James, her longtime photographer, flew to Rio, Cairo, Israel, Islamabad, Beijing, and Moscow to cover the gatherings.
On March 20, 2025, Kent joined Paige and James in London, and the three went on to Rome near the Vatican. Once at the Vatican, they mingled among a large crowd of the faithful. Paige stood shoulder to shoulder with a sea of people waiting for words of comfort from the Pope. He walked out onto the balcony dressed in a long white robe and raised his hands in the air. The crowd fell silent. He waved his hands.
“We must prepare and accept a second coming or, if God willing, the unknown.” Heads bowed in prayer and tears ran down the people’s faces. James snapped pictures of the faithful’s response to the Pope’s words. After the Pope left, many followers stayed behind and knelt in prayer.
The faithful returned for several more days in search of solace, but as the date drew closer, Paige noticed more and more people were leaving the Vatican and congregating at the original crop circle in a farmer’s field just outside of Rome. Paige stared out over the congregation. “It’s time to go home.”
On April 18, Paige, James and Kent headed back to New York to witness the final viewing.
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