The door won’t open. Nothing I’ve tried will break its lock.
And there are no windows here, in the
dark below.
But I am not their prisoner.
They put me here and locked me in for my protection.
Now they’ve all fallen
silent.
At least, the voices and human sounds have all gone.
Though, I sometimes hear unearthly things.
After our pastor saw the visiting men looking at me, I was put here, in the church cellar.
I’ve collapsed from
weakness on the doorstep, where I dream of bodies moving in the walls.
Finally, my scraping
and banging is answered: the door opens.
I peek through the crack and see only the now pitifully neglected church hallways.
I creep forward and call out.
An explorer to this centuries abandoned church stumbles back,
aghast at the sight of me.
