**"The Return of SCAR"**

Scar was once a deeply spiritual man, a person of quiet faith and unwavering devotion. He lived his life with a pure heart, caring for his children, Ivan and Lilly, and always striving to do what was right in the eyes of God. Those who knew him admired his humility and kindness. He never missed a day of prayer and believed in forgiveness, even for those who had hurt him. 

But despite his holy nature, the world was cruel to Scar. When he needed support most, the people he trusted turned their backs. They spread vicious lies, accused him of things he hadn’t done, and isolated him until all that was left was a shell of the man he once was. His prayers for mercy went unanswered, and the burden of betrayal grew too heavy to bear. 

In the end, Scar died not from any physical harm but from a broken heart. The grief and sorrow consumed him, and he passed away in the cold, lonely silence of his home—abandoned by those he loved and prayed for.

But Scar’s faith, once a source of strength, could not save him from what came next. His soul, too pained and angry to move on, became trapped in the mortal world. His once holy spirit was twisted by the overwhelming grief and betrayal he had suffered. 

He became something far more terrifying than a mere ghost.

Scar’s tormentors carried on with their lives, oblivious to the storm that was brewing. They thought little of his death, having long convinced themselves they were justified in their actions. But Scar had not gone quietly. His spirit lingered, watching, waiting. And soon, strange things began to happen.

Sarah, who had spread the most malicious rumours, was the first to experience his presence. At night, she heard his voice calling her name, a whisper carried on the wind: “You betrayed me, Sarah.” At first, she ignored it, but the voice grew louder, more insistent. Her nights became filled with dread, unable to sleep, knowing that Scar’s ghost was near. One night, she woke to see Scar standing in the corner of her room, his eyes hollow, his once kind face twisted in pain. “Why, Sarah?” was all he said before vanishing into the darkness.

Mark, Scar’s former friend who had abandoned him at his lowest, began seeing shadows following him. The outline was unmistakable—it was Scar. “Why didn’t you help me?” Mark would hear late at night, the question haunting him as Scar’s form appeared in every dark corner of his home.

As more of Scar’s tormentors were haunted by his vengeful spirit, they grew desperate. Some sought help from priests, hoping that Scar’s once-holy nature could be reasoned with. They believed that perhaps prayers and blessings could release his soul from the grip of the dark forces that now controlled him. But they were wrong.

The moment these priests heard Scar’s name, they felt an unnatural chill in the air. “Scar?” they would stammer, their hands trembling. These men of faith, who had confronted the worst evils, found themselves gripped with fear. No amount of holy water or prayers could drive away Scar’s spirit. His name became something whispered in fear, for even the priests knew they had no power over him.

In life, Scar had been a holy man, but in death, his soul had become something akin to the legend of a vengeful, weeping spirit bound to the world, condemned to an eternity of grief and sorrow. The weight of his suffering had turned him into a spectral force, unable to find peace, forever haunting those who had wronged him. His once pure soul had been tainted by the anguish that consumed him in life.

Even as his tormentors fell one by one, haunted until their final breath, Scar’s spirit found no rest. The grief that had killed him remained, and as the last of those who had betrayed him was consumed by guilt, Scar’s ghost wandered the earth, cursed to relive his suffering for eternity.

No prayers could save him, no exorcism could release him. His once holy nature had been twisted beyond repair, and like a vengeful spirit, Scar became a legend—a tragic figure, forever weeping for the life that had been stolen from him. His soul was condemned, destined to haunt the living, doomed to walk the earth in sorrow, never finding peace.

Scar’s story became a cautionary tale. People whispered his name in fear, knowing that his spirit still roamed the world, seeking justice, seeking release—yet never able to find either. He was no longer just Scar. He was the shadow in the night, the voice on the wind, forever crying out for the peace that would never come.

Remember things do go Bang in the night... Boo

God Bless Us All...

Jacob M