Some time in the middle of the night Paul came round. He got to his feet slowly. He was fully dressed. All the lights in the church were turned on. The dust storm had ceased and everything was back to normal. The cross hung in its place on the wall. The east window, font and altar were intact.
He looked around in amazement. “A miracle,” he said to himself. “It"s a miracle.”
He inspected the church. There was no dust. No sign of a struggle. Nothing to indicate that anything unusual had happened. Had he imagined it? Had it been some kind of crazy s****l fantasy? But he could still catch the scent of woodsmoke and autumn leaves from somewhere. He realised it was coming from his jacket collar.
He went to the vestry and covered his clothes with a surplice. Returning to the sanctuary he stood
