by A L Makin
Walking deeper into the forest it’s not long before I come to a circular clearing in the trees. The sky above is littered with stars and the bright moonlight shines through casting its silver glow on to an ancient-looking church.
“What the hell …?” I say out loud to myself as I stand in the clearing confused. Two churches in one small village? But why? And why is this one hidden away deep in the woods? A flood of questions swamp my mind.
This church is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before and is in complete contrast to the one in the village. I mean, granted it’s similar in shape, with a triangular roof and steeple, but that’s it. The look and feel of this church is dark and gothic, and the cross on the steeple is upside down. I don’t like it at all, and it’s with no surprise that the feeling of pain I’m getting is coming from inside the four walls of the evil-looking church.
I tune out the pain, I don’t need to feel it anymore now that it’s led me to my destination. Taking a deep breath, I walk towards the building. The church has several windows running along the side of the building, and just like what you would find on a normal church, they have stained glass images. However, on closer inspection, unlike the pictures you would normally find of bible stories, this church’s windows are filled with pictures of angels … dark angels, surrounded by war and bloodshed. My skin turns cold the longer I look at the images, but I can’t seem to turn away from them either. As shocking as I first found them to be, they’re beautiful in their detail and artistry.
I spend a few more minutes studying the windows then walk towards the large double wooden doors. To my surprise, both doors aren’t closed shut like I thought they would be. Instead, the one on the left is slightly ajar as though someone has been through it recently. Grasping the large loop handle, it feels cold … and wet. Why is it wet? I think to myself.
Pulling away and looking down at my hand, I’m horrified to discover it stained with blood. Whoever I’ve been feeling the pain from, is hiding in here for sure, and the fresh blood tells me that they came this way recently. I wipe my hand on the front of my jeans and using my shoulder as leverage, I push the large heavy door open wider, avoiding the blood on the handle. For such an old-looking church, I expected the door to at least creak as it moved. But all I hear is silence.
Once inside the church, I slowly push the door closed behind me. After the door clicks shut, I realise that this was probably not one of the wisest decisions I’ve ever made; to purposely trap myself in an unknown building with goodness knows who?
However, it’s too late now, so I turn and walk through the vestibule entrance and enter the great hall of the church. There are several lit candles scattered around, casting a dim light. Rows of dark wooden pews line each side of the church, and the walls are covered with scriptures, paintings and battle weapons. As I walk down the aisle between the pews, I can’t help feeling in awe of the creepy, strange, yet beautiful building.
Without thinking, I stop walking and call out. “Hello, is anybody there?”
Listening carefully I hear the faintest groan coming from the furthest end of the pews.
“Hello?” I call out again.
“Here ...” A weak male voice replies.
Slowly continuing forward, I keep my guard up. I’ve no idea what I’m about to find. Eventually, I make it to the final pew. Staying stood behind it, I psych myself up to look. I’ve no idea what I’m about to find, and that thought scares me. Another quiet groan drifts through the air. I can’t put it off any longer, whoever I’m about to discover is injured and needs help, so with that thought, I take a step forward and look down.
A large dark figure is laid sideways on the pew. Their face is covered by their hair which is matted with sweat ... or blood. It’s too dim to tell for sure. Taking a step closer, I notice something move from the corner of my eye. Turning quickly, I’m relieved to see its Max. He’s uninjured and laid on the floor whimpering in front of the crumpled dark figure. Crouching towards the ground, I call his name softly while holding out my hand.
“Max, come here boy. It’s me, Willow,” he lifts his head from the floor, turns to look at the dark figure and looks back at me unsure.
Keeping my hand held out, I call again. “Come on Max, it's ok,” he stands slowly and moves towards me with his tail tucked between his legs. I give him a big hug while still crouching and then stoke his head.
“So Max, who’s this then? Is this why you came running into the forest?” I ask the question not expecting an answer, but to my surprise, Max barks loudly and turns bounding back towards the guy on the pew and sits in front of him.
Standing, I walk slowly over to the shadowy figure on the bench as they let out another groan, followed by what I thought was my name being called. But that’s impossible ... right? Nobody knows me here. Well, nobody except Travis and Lorna. But I know it’s not Lorna.
I walk a little closer trying to get a better look, but it’s no use. The tiny bit of moonlight coming through the closest window is shining on him, but his hair is still covering his face making it impossible to see who it is properly.
Taking another step closer, I try my luck. “Travis, is that you?”
“Yes … it’s … me,” Travis replies coughing.
“What are you doing here Willow? How ... how did you know I was here?” he asks.
He’s turned himself and is now looking up at me. The moonlight shines on his face illuminating it perfectly. He looks so pale, paler than usual, and his face is contorted with pain. Looking down at him I can’t even begin to imagine what must have happened, or how I’m going to answer his questions.
“Forget how I’ve found you. Just be happy that I did. You don’t look good, Travis. What happened?” I rush out.
He goes to push himself upright on the pew, but his arm buckles beneath his weight. I automatically leap forward to help. Reaching under both of his arms, I help to pull him up to a sitting position slowly. He groans out loud – clearly in a lot of pain. Sitting up in the pew, I sit next to him and sweep his sweat ridden hair away from his beautiful face. His face looks normal, no marks, cuts or bruises that I can see. Then I remember that the pain I felt in the forest, was concentrated to my right shoulder. Looking at his shoulder, I can see that it’s sloped in comparison to the left one, and his arm hangs limply from his body.
“What happened to you?” I repeat.
His grey eyes shine in the moonlight and he holds my gaze. “Look, I know I look messed up. But it’s not as bad as it looks. It’s just my shoulder,” he explains as he cradles his damaged arm. “Give me a bit of time, and I’ll be fine. You’ll see,” his smile lights up his face.
“But that doesn’t explain what happened though?” I reason.
If he thinks I’m going to let this subject go, then he has another thing coming. I need to know what I’ve found myself in the middle of.
“You’re not like this because of those people you told me about last week, are you?” I ask scared at his answer.
Looking down at his right hand, he flexes his fingers grimacing. Happy that they move ok, he takes a deep breath turning to face me.
“No, it’s not. If only it was, then maybe I won’t seem so pathetic right now,” he laughs.
“Oi, don’t say that. You’re not pathetic. You’re badly hurt. How’s that pathetic … unless you’re about to tell me you got beat up by fairies,” I laugh trying to make light of the situation. I don’t want Travis to feel awkward with whatever he’s about to tell me.
He laughs hard, and immediately regrets it, grabbing and rubbing the top of his sore shoulder.
“Oww, I shouldn’t laugh so hard,” he smiles. “Fairies though – good one. No, thankfully … or maybe not thankfully thinking about it, I was attacked by something a bit bigger and stronger.”
“By what?” I ask him.
“It’s all a bit hazy, but I was out collecting some wood when out of nowhere I was attacked by some sort of an animal. It jumped me from behind as I p
icked up wood from the forest floor. I don’t know if it's taken a bite out of my shoulder or slashed it with its claw? But either way, it’s torn right through my jacket and it bloody kills.”
Travis turns slowly showing me a jagged slash that goes right through his jacket, shirt underneath and then deep into his skin. The wound looks like it's stopped bleeding thankfully, but with how much paler he looks to normal, I bet he lost a fair bit of it first. And what happened explains the blood I found on the door handle earlier. I go to open my mouth, but Travis beats me to it, by turning back straight and carrying on with his story.
“So anyway, somehow I managed to push it off and make a run for it. I ran as fast as I could, but it was faster and caught up to me pretty quick pouncing onto my back again. It hit me hard, and I think it dislocated my shoulder with its weight. We crashed to the ground, and I managed to roll onto my back, pinned under it. It kept snapping at my face, and a few times I thought I was a goner for sure. But by some miracle, as I fumbled in the dirt, I managed to find a large rock hidden under some leaves. I grabbed it just kept smashing it into the side of its head as many times as I could until it jumped off and ran away. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline of nearly being killed, or what. But I was up and off the ground as quick as I could, taking shelter here. I think I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, I was hearing your voice calling out,” he finishes.
“Oh god, Travis. That’s horrible. Are you sure you’re ok?” I ask concerned. He’s lucky to be alive, and I can’t help but wonder if whatever attacked Travis, is the same thing that tried to attack me in the tunnel of trees?
“I’m fine – honest. Just a bit stiff, battered and bruised,” he laughs lightly.
“Do you think there’s any chance that what attacked you tonight, could have been what tried attacking me that first night I met you?” I ask continuing, “I mean I know you said it could have been one of ‘those’ people. But with me never seeing my stalker, I can’t be certain it was or wasn’t?”
Travis thinks for a moment. “Sure, I suppose there’s every chance it could have been the same thing,” he nods slowly.
In a weird way, that thought reassures me. I seem to be able to better process the thought of a wild animal trying to attack me, instead of another human-being doing it for shits and giggles.
“Anyway,” Travis announces cocking his head to the side. “You’re yet to explain how you found me - how did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t … I mean, I didn’t know you were here. I was out walking Max this evening when he ran off. So I chased him and found him here … found you here,” I tell the truth. Not the whole truth, but the truth none the less.
“Right, Max. Of course,” he smiles down looking at the dog and pets the top of his head with his good arm.
“So what’s say we get you out of here?” I question changing the subject. “You need to go to the hospital and get that shoulder seen to.”
Travis looks up at me while continuing to stroke Max’s head. “I think we should wait a little while before we leave. Make sure that whatever attacked me has gone before we venture out,” he explains.
“But your shoulder,” I protest. “It needs seeing to ASAP.”
“It’ll be fine, the bleedings stopped,” he states.
“That might be so,” I argue, “but you can’t say … that’s … normal.” I finish pointing to the very obvious difference in the height of his shoulders.
He looks down at his right arm as it remains limp at his side. “It’s only dislocated, it’s done it a few times now. Don’t worry, I can put it back where it belongs.”
“How the hell do you know how to reset your shoulder?” I ask shocked.
He looks up. “That’s easy. It’s an old rugby injury. The first time it happened it was a pain in the arse. But when it’s happened more than you can remember, you quickly learn how to sort these things out yourself,” he laughs.
“Won’t that be painful though?” I ask stating the obvious.
“Yeah, it’s gonna hurt like a mother … But there’s a medicine cabinet in the back of here. If you help me up, once I’ve reset my shoulder a couple of painkillers should do the trick,” he smiles.
A medicine cabinet in the back. I think to myself. So Travis has been here before then. He must have been or he wouldn’t know this place has a medicine cabinet. But why would someone like Travis, come to a place like this? I need to find out.
“So what is this place then?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks back like he doesn’t see what I see.
“I mean, what is this place? It looks like some sort of church, but it can’t be. I mean, the cross is upside down for a start. It’s like it’s an anti-church,” I laugh.
Travis thinks for a moment while looking around the building. “It kind of is,” he states.
“Eh? Really? But why?” I ask dumbfounded.
“It goes back to when the church and the village were first built. The church back then was so grand, that the upper-class villagers decided that only they were allowed to use the church for worship and events. Any lower-class villagers weren’t even allowed to set foot on the church grounds, let alone actually come inside the building,” he pauses for a brief moment while he shuffles in his seat, cradling his dislocated arm.
“So, as a kind of protest, those villagers built this church here making sure it was the opposite to everything of the church in the village. It ended up with quite a cult following that continues today, with people worshipping here on an almost daily basis.”
“So, do you come here then too?” I ask.
I mean, he knows so much about the place. He must worship here also. How else would he know?
Travis smiles at me, and for a micro-split second, it almost looked sinister. When he starts to laugh.
“Me? No. Religion as a singular isn’t really my thing. I’m an open book, so I visit here and the church in the village. If someone was to open another different house of worship, I’d go there too,” he finishes.
“Okay, then.” Is all I manage to say as I stand up. I’m not sure what else I could say.
“Shall we go and get those painkillers then?” I ask wanting to change the subject from the churches history. It all has me a bit spooked and freaked out, to be honest.
“Sounds good to me,” he says while also standing up, and I notice that he doesn’t even look like half of the pain riddled man I found not too long ago.
“There is just one thing I want to do first,” he says while walking over to the wall next to the pew we were sitting on. Taking a few deep breaths, he counts to three before slamming himself hard into the wall right onto his dislocated shoulder. I hear a loud crack as he yells out in utter anguish as his shoulder pops back into place.
“Fuccccckkkkk!” He yells again as he punches the wall with what was his good hand. The force he used to punch the wall leaves a small crack in the stone, making me think it’ll be a miracle if he’s not just broken all the bones in that hand too. He leans into the wall, resting his forehead against the cold stone, while he catches his breath. I don’t rush him. I give him the time he needs to gather himself together. A few more moments pass before he pushes himself off from the wall with both arms, sweeps his not-broken-fingers through his hair and takes one final deep breath.
“You ok?” I ask feeling a bit sick from what I just watched him do to himself.
He smiles at me with a pained smile. “Better than a few moments ago.”
“Shall we?” he asks.
“Lead the way,” I reply and follow Travis into the back of the church with Max trailing behind us.
~
We walk down a dimly lit corridor and enter a dark room to my left. “Is there a light in here? I can’t see a thing,” I say while feeling out around me for a wall with a light switch or something.
“Wait here a sec,” Travis whispers into my ear, his cool breath making my skin tighten.
Almo
st as soon as he’s gone, a warm glow shines from the corner of the room, then another and another. I watch as Travis carefully makes his way around the room lighting candles with one hand. The candles give off a warm vibe to the room, and I’m finally able to see where it is that I am. Stood at the entrance of a decent sized room with no windows, long candles litter any available space on a large cluttered bookcase. The bookcase runs the full length of the wall at the furthest end of the room. A couple of feet in front of the bookcase are two large comfy looking black fabric couches. Each couch has a blood-red throw over their backs and rests against each of the side walls to the room, with a dark wooden coffee table between them. Above one of the couches hangs a few old oil paintings, and I move towards the centre of the room, to get a closer look.
There are three paintings in total, each following on from one another, and look like they’re telling some kind of story. The first painting shows a gory battle scene between two different groups of dark angels. The paintings are so detailed and it’s almost like you can feel the pain and despair from the people painted in them.
The second picture shows a male and female dark angel laid under a tree together. His wings are wrapped around their bodies like a blanket and it looks strangely erotic. Like they could be making love under there. The way the painting captures the love they have for each other makes me automatically step forward, to be closer to them.
The third picture is of the male and female angel from the painting before, stood in front of a large crowd who are bowing to them. The paintings have me captivated and I return to looking at the first one. To inspect them all more closely. Make sure I’ve not missed any detail.
