Here’s my take on this week’s Sunday Scrawl, a photo prompt competition that runs from Sunday to Sunday on a weekly basis. Enjoy!
We went there to hide; we thought that we’d be safe, but we didn’t know. We didn’t think.
Outside, we’d faced only danger. The masked strangers had circled us, trapping us against the doors of the church. We’d thought that we’d done well to slip inside and escape from them, but now that we think about it, the strangers had probably wanted us to do just that.
It wasn’t a normal church. No one had sat inside, singing songs or praying. There were no candles, and there was no incense wafting about the halls. It was dark and unnerving, the smell of decay heavy in the air.
It had been unlocked, but there was no one inside. There was no priest or vicar, and the masked strangers hadn’t followed us. They hadn’t needed to.
We barely lasted an hour. Our members dwindled, one by one, as we disappeared into the dark. Occasionally, we’d hear someone scream, but whenever we went to investigate, there was no one there. The church was empty, and, in the end, even we weren’t there.
Now, I spend my time in the darkness. I’m completely alone. There’s no way out. I can’t remember what happened to me those many years ago, when I first ran into the church; all I can remember, is the darkness.