The Fallen and the Elect
Page 60
Chapter 32
A young couple out for a night's walk embraced each other under a bright, umber-tinted moon near a decaying cathedral with major walls crumbling from years of silent erosion and weathering. Standing remnants of gray brick stood amongst the remainder of the wall. Disparate-sized pieces lay scattered along the ground, some the size of tiny boulders, many adorned with graffiti. A set of layered, Romanesque archways of successive heights, walled off at the smallest one that rose 15 feet nonetheless, stood erect as the only remaining full-height portion of the edifice, the remains of the crossing to a transept of the old church. Dandelions, tall strand grass, thistles, and other weeds grew between most of the seams and cracks in the once-pristine stone flooring, no longer resembling anything hewn by skilled craftsmen or artisans. On one side of the structure, down a small incline of plush grass, a still lake reflected the muted glow of the moon.
The couple’s walk took them toward the lake; both ready to retreat home and settle in for the evening. Nocturnal sounds whispered in the evening air, crickets, owls, bats fluttering, and the rustling of scavenger animals in the nearby hedges. Ready to dismiss any other sounds as they strolled away from the wasted ruins and focused only on the rest of the night before them, several vocal melodic and polyphonic tones wafted through the air to form a somber harmony. The two at first assumed the sounds were coming from the radio or other device of someone in the vicinity. They then comprehended the source to be the standing ruins of the old cathedral. As suddenly as the vocalized harmony started, it stopped. All other nocturnal sounds ceased. The couple was now feeling uncomfortable, both standing firm by the lake, the smell of sweet spices and flowers perfuming the silent, still air. After several minutes, even though none of the normal evening sounds returned to their ears, they decided to continue walking, the young woman of the couple tightening her grip on her new husband’s hand. Within a few steps, the somber harmony returned, the two now quite sure it originated from the ruins, echoing from inside the walled portion of the transept.
In Chicago, on the south side of the city, was an abandoned church with windows boarded, parkway in patches of grass and dirt, and parking lot fenced with posts topped by a loop threaded with a rusting chain and dandelions and grass working their way through its split and cracked asphalt. Several of the neighborhood kids played touch football with one boy’s girlfriend sitting off to the side, all enjoying the school holiday until they were interrupted by what sounded like orchestrated vocalizations originating in the empty edifice. The five young teens, no longer interested in the game, were disturbed at hearing anything from the church. They knew that most of the items that were capable of making the sounds they were hearing had been either removed or destroyed. A couple of them had caused much of the damage inside shortly after the church closed two years before. As they approached the structure, a police car on patrol pulled to the curb and gave one quick burst of the siren indicating that the five should step away from the building. Initially startled by the noise emanating from the patrol car, they refocused their attention to the source of the unique sounds. Angry at being ignored, the patrolman stepped out of the car, his ears now assaulted with the haunting melody that was growing in intensity. He debated whether to call for backup, especially if one or more trespassers had entered into the church. Assistance would be needed to expel them. Walking up to the building, fear and trepidation enveloped him; the singing voices didn't sound human.
Outside the city of Aquascalientes, in a region called El Refugio, after an unexpected deluge of rain, activity steadily returned to the streets. An abandoned church no longer stood quiet. The dulcet sounds of a choir with perfect harmony, perfect pitch, without a single voice out of tune wafted onto the town streets. The few scattered wanderers in the town, walking through the park across the street, and the children playing in the street at first thought nothing of the melancholy euphony. They dismissed it as simple background noise. Minutes later, the realization manifested in the same fear among all those in hearing distance; the church was now alive with spirits, the spirits of the ones who passed ten years earlier. No one could come up with another explanation.
One of the townspeople gathered outside Our Lady of Hope made the comment: “Los espíritus malignos han llegado” (“The evil spirits have arrived”).
Across the nation and throughout numerous countries, in abandoned churches, cathedral ruins, old store fronts, closed schools, or vacated office spaces all once used for religious services, ethereal and supernatural singing arose. The sound of what could be only one or two vocalizations emanated from many of the locations; in others, perfectly harmonized choirs. In many of the places, no one felt brave enough to enter to determine the source of the sounds. At sites where those were bold enough to enter, nothing could be seen, only heard. They weren't able to remain long as a sense of dread built up exponentially the longer they stayed.