Day 2.

I dusted off my clothes with my other hand, scrubbed at a particularly stubborn patch, then straightened up.

Sometimes when I’m sitting by a window at night, you get that deep anxious feeling that at any second a face might appear. I’ll look into the slightly iced glass and slowly realized that something is staring back.

It’s sort of a tingling tension in your chest, tightening your muscles and convincing you that any movement would mean your death.

I saw a face in the trees.

Blurred, unclear, like looking through dirty glasses. I couldn’t look away, no matter how I tried. It wasn’t a trick of the eye, that disappears when you look away. I tried. It still just stared. I wasn’t even sure what it was. I just knew that something that reminded me of eyes sat near the top of some form of darkness darker than that around it.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Hard as I tried. But the more I stared at it, the more my eyes seemed to be unable to focus on it. That happens in the dark. When I looked sort of to the left of it, it came back into focus, more defined from its shadowy surroundings.

Then it was gone.

I sighed and groaned at the same time, and found my feet taking me against my will further along that road. Surely it was against my will. Surely I didn’t want to do it.

I grabbed my notebook which had been thrown foreward a little, tucked in back in my pocket without hardly slowing down.

I hadn’t walked long when the trees suddenly opened into a clearing. It was a weird sort of clearing. Pretty huge, though it didn’t seem as huge as it used to. On all sides the trees came right up to the tall, golden grass which filled this ovular space. I think most people looking at that grass would just see weeds overgrown, an ugly fire hazzard. Me? I saw the ocean that Midas dipped his finger into.

But that grass was not what demanded one’s attention upon entering the clearing.

It was the cathedral.

A long, rectangular building lined with massively tall, narrow stained glass windows, this cathedral had been long abandoned. It’s wide, mahogany double doors faced me now, maybe fourty feet away. That door must have weighed a ton. It was elegantly carved with designs and plant life. I remembered roses and vines. I had spent many an hour with my back against that door, leaning against the smooth square near the bottom. The doors were flanked by more stained glass, tall panes cresting to a rosette shape.

I just stood at the entrance to that clearing, a cold sun looking down upon the abandoned buliding, making the stained glass shimmer just enough to give a hint of the former glory the cathedral once held.

This old building, I should mention, was not in the best of shape. As I moved my eye and mind past the initial beauty, I began to see the rotting roof which, in places, looked like they had caved in in small portions. Chunks were missing from the cornerstones, and all the stone which made up the large building was stained with dark streaks.

Remember that urge I had earlier to keep walking down this road? Well it was back, and much stronger than it had been before. I had to go up to that building. I had to go inside.

Inside? I had never been inside. Every kid in my town knew that this place was violently haunted. Every Halloween the boys would make brave proclamations of their intent to go inside the old cathedral, maybe even spend the night there. Every year, they would have the girls squealing with terror and delight.

And every year, they seemed to have unavaoidable conflicts.

I was the only one who would go up to it. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go inside. Sometimes I thought I could pluck up the nerve to look in one of the clearer sections of stained glass. I would get within a few feet of one, and then imagine how terrifying it would be to have someone looking right back.

No need to look through the windows, anyhow.

So now I was trudging through the two foot high grass, leaving behind crop circles that had been unable to unite into a circle. Headed towards this cathedral which had once been a sort of refuge. A place to be approached with a sense of awe, and if it was willing, you could stay a while.

But I approached with a quick step I couldn’t seem to slow. I tried to stop. Tried to slow. Told myself I should get home. Told myself something was wrong. But my leg extended forward, and my foot hit the first of three stone steps up to the door.

I stopped.

I felt this sort of chill drive up through me as I stood there, one foot on the first step. I kind of liked it.

So I conquered another step. Just one more.

Yep, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I felt invigorated. Began to take another.

Something grabbed my arm. I yelled, tried to turn around, but was pulled off the steps, thrown to the ground. The grass flattened under my body as I landed hard on my back. It began to bend over me slightly, as if it meant to entomb me.

My dazed eyes stared up at blue-ish skies and bending grass heads. Something black bent over me, grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me up. I couldn’t see clearly. Why couldn’t I see clearly? I was swaying on my feet, threatening collapse. I just wanted to see. Something was in front of me. Something dark and massive.

“The hell are you doing here?” it growled as it grabbed my arm again, jerking me towards it. I tried to pull back, my eyes widening in a fear I couldn’t rationalize. “What are you doing here?” It said again, more slowly this time. The voice was deep, with a hint of some accent. I couldn’t place it.

But why couldn’t I see it clearly?

“Who are you?” It grabbed both of my arms and shook me a little bit. If I had wanted to speak, I couldn’t. Remember the part about me being a coward? My whole body was tense, my face tight with fear. I couldn’t get my naked eyes to blink.

Glasses. I couldn’t see him because my glasses must have fallen off. It was good to have something explained.

Just as I’d made this discovery, the man shoved me back. I nearly lost my balance again, found it just in time. He shouted something as he did this, but honestly I was a little preoccupied. I stood there for a second, contemplating running, my shoulders hunched in a pathetic weak dog sort of posture, my eyes working extremely hard to focus on something, anything.

That’s when I saw it. Out of all the blurriness that my world currently existed, I saw something impossibly clear. A face at the doors of the cathedral. Someone was inside, and peeking through a slightly ajar door. I straightened up, stared. I found that the face wasn’t really in focus. Just the eyes. Sparkling eyes that didn’t seem to have a colour in particular. Much different from the indistinct eyes I had seen in the woods.

“What are you–” the thing before me began. I think it must have turned around and saw what I saw, because it murmered, “Shit...” then grabbed my collar. I didn’t see his fist coming, but I definitely felt its impact. It must have let go of my collar, because I reeled sideways and back, this time unable to find that elusive balance. I sort of landed on my side, on the shoulder I’d fallen on back on the road.

My face hurt like hell. I’d been punched a few times as a kid, but never by a full grown man, if that’s what it was. Never with that force.

“Get up.” The same voice, but much more urgent, almost desperate. “Get out of here!”

I didn’t move for a second. A foot was planted into my stomach, all air rushed from my lungs. It pulled me up, pushed me towards the road.

“Get out!”

I didn’t move.

“OUT!” He shoved me back, but it was that voice that got to me. It wasn’t so much anger or venom. There was a fury, but underneath a deep concern, a horrible frightened plea. I don’t think I can flatter myself to think that concern was for me. At the time it didn’t make much sense, but there was no way anyone could deny such a voice. Something between fear and pity made it impossible.

So with a speed as fast as I thought safe considering my lack of sight, I ran.

I think it took nearly tripping again to make me stop. I hesitated, looking back. As my adrenaline wore off, I finally became aware of a few things. My face and shoulder reminded me that they were in pain, and I tasted blood in my mouth. I spat it out, wiped it with my hand, then began with a more cautious stride back to my house.

Am I some sort of idiot that I was already planning another trip back?



The police came today and they asked me questions. I didn’t tell them much of anything. I know they think I did something. It didn’t help that mom told them that those kids were always picking on me. She doesn’t really know the extent of it. I don’t want her to. And Emily promised not to tell.

Mom said I had to tell them everything I knew. But none of them understand what its like. I mean, they’re telling me what they found. Its horrible, it really is, but I’m not sorry. Maybe for their parents i guess but not for them.

Is it my fault? If I can say stuff like that? I didn’t see anything. Its hard to see at dusk. And I honestly only remember a few things, like when you wake up from a dream and the more you think about it, the more it seems to fade away.

I was asleep when they found me. Maybe what i remember was a dream. Maybe that’s all there was too it.

I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.