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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Creatures & Monsters
- Published: 12/15/2023
The Chapel
Born 2006, F, from London, United KingdomThe night is slowly setting off on the pine forest as the sounds of the woods fade away into the darkness. The only noise breaking the utter emptiness is the hasty steps of a little girl. She is holding a lamp in her shaky hands, illuminating the faded pathway ahead of her. As she hurries through the black trunks a piece of newspaper falls out from under her robe onto the rotting leaves. The letters on the grey cover make out a hardly legible text: The chapel where you meet God. The newspaper is from twenty years ago; it hides the scent of long-forgotten memories of another century.
The girl finally slows down, panting; her shoes are covered in dirt from the ground of the lonely forest. She looks around, holding the flickering lantern to grant herself a path of uncertain vision through the trees. No sound can be heard, as if the creatures inhabiting the forest had suddenly left, fleeing from something that cannot be grasped by humans.
The girl finally captures what she was looking for; she reaches under her robe with one hand and touches the metal cross hanging around her neck and holds her lamp to see the path leading to a dark figure behind the trees. As the light finally drops on the figure, the shadowy contrast of a building starts to crawl out of the darkness. The girl elevates her lantern and the edges of a slightly bent cross faintly glint in an ominous manner. She gets closer and observes the angel statues next to the entrance, which is sealed by old, once yellow plastic tape. The figures stare into nothingness with their hollow eyes, their wings are broken as if it was severed from their holy body a long time ago, even before the old newspaper revealed their existence to the small town on the outskirts of the forest. The girl reaches out to the statues and shakily touches the face of the angel murmuring a quick prayer. A slight breeze washes through the leaves and soothes the girl's tangled hair; it carries a strange scent, which somehow feels fresh but still infected with something unnatural. The girl grabs the plastic tapes sealing the entrance of the chapel and tears them down without any consideration.
The sound of whistling wind howls out through the door and the girl doesn't hesitate to open it; it is not locked but still resists slightly when she pushes down the handle. A cold breeze shoves the back of the girl, and she steps inside the dark chapel. Her lantern’s light canvasses the cold marble floor of the building, climbs up on the walls where old figurines of saints cast long shadows. On the opposite wall, a rusty cross watches over the room; the bottom half is broken and it almost seems inverted. On the podium, there is an old Bible, open at a page that was last read by someone who is now long gone. The place vibrates with a weird scent that carries the reminiscence of frankincense but is somehow different.
The girl closes the door behind her to shut out the chilly air of the forest; the place feels more peaceful now, no sound can be heard in the deserted chapel. It feels like its walls haven’t seen the presence of any living creature in the last century. The girl walks up to the podium and takes the Bible into her hands. The only numbers that she can take out on the opened pages are two sixes. She sits down in front of the altar; the face of Jesus Christ on the cross reflects a sense of suffering; the girl observes it with a worried expression and turns around abruptly as if she heard something. She takes off her robe and puts the Bible on it, opening it at the Book of psalms. She reaches for a small, black pouch inside her pocket and holds it gently in her hands.
After that the little girl puts the pouch on the Bible and sings a psalm in her light birdlike voice; it bounces through the dark walls tinkling and as she finishes it dies off with a melancholic echo. The silence seems deeper for a few moments before the little girl puts her hands together and starts praying.
‘Oh, my almighty Lord of heavens, giver of joy, life and light. My dear and only God, please hear my words because you are the only one that could ease my suffering. I am so alone in this world, more alone than I have ever been in my life. Please grant me your presence as the balm of my sadness. People in my village say that this place is sacred and they have seen you here and you have bestowed them with great wonders. Now I am asking you the same, hence my devotion to you is my only salvation. Please, my only Lord, I am begging you, let me see you only once because I cannot take the suffering anymore.’
As the girl falls silent an almost insensible darkness sets off on the walls of the chapel. For a few moments nothing can be heard, even the wind calms down in the forest. And after a minute the girl feels something; a presence, a hard mass of force behind her.
’What is it I can give you, little one?’ a voice echoes, and the girl’s eyes open, she almost turns around, her heart races faster. ’Close your eyes!’ the voice peals, and the girl shuts her eyes, curling up.
’Oh my almighty Lord!’ she breathes, almost fainting. ’I can sense your presence. Were the legends true? Until this point I feared to believe them, but I am dull to have doubted your might!
’Yes, little one.’ the voice whispers. ’Now tell me what you wish for.’
’My mother has died this winter.’ The girl says’ She was the only one I had; I don’t wish for her to come back alive, since I know that you need her in heaven, I am sure she is an angel now. But please, let me see her one more time! That is the only thing I wish for. I know that you need something that is important to me to see if my intentions are noble; so I brought her ashes. It’s inside that little black bag.’ the girl murmurs, her eyes still tightly shut.
’I see, little one. You have done well, indeed. I will let you see your mother, since I know that her ashes are the dearest to you; but you have to give them to me, to show me your devotion.’
’Well, take them, please, my Lord. I will keep my eyes shut, since I know, your glory would burn my weak mortal sight.’
A strong sense of unease sets on the girl as something passes her slender kneeling body. The sound of footsteps stop next to her and she can feel the breath of something on her neck; slight chills run down on her spine, the smell of something familiar hits her nose. For a second she is in doubt; but after that hope glints behind her eyelids; it’s the smell of her mother’s old parfume.
’You can open your eyes now, honey.’ The voice of her mother flickers through the dark, and the girl almost chuckles, as she opens her eyes. Her mother is standing, looking down at her from above. But something feels not quite right, even though the girl is greatly distracted by the sight of her mother for now. She breaks out in relieved tears.
’How much time do we have?’ she asks
’Not much, honey. The Lord cannot give all his time to you. But you can hug me one more time and I can feel your earthly body in my arms.’
The girl doesn’t hesitate; she hugs her mother tightly, closing her eyes.
’I am so hungry, mother, and so cold. I feel so alone.’
’I know, my only one. But it will get better soon, I pro...’ her voice breaks for a moment, it almost seems distorted.’...mise you.’
And as they fall silent again, the girl senses something, something that cannot be described with any human language. It can only be felt by a part deep within our souls that inherits the seed of darkness. She feels something sinister. Cold rushes through her body, and the scent of her mother’s parfume is slowly replaced by something else. With the smell of camphor and… amic. She opens her eyes and senses a body of cold and hard between her arms; something that is not her mother. As the grotesque realization emerges in her mind she pushes her mother’s body; but it doesn’t move. She takes a step back; her mother, the illusion of her mother is gone. The only figure ahead of her is the statue of an angel with broken wings. As she steps back again she notices something dark in the shadows. At first, it seems like two small fireflies. But after a few seconds a distorted figure starts to take shape in the darkness. Its back is bent and its crooked ribs and fanglike vertebraes are pushing through the pale skin of its back. The girl tries to run but she cannot move, so she screams. A bizarre smile appears under the glimpses, and the voice whispers.
’What? Do you not like your God?’
The girl shuts her eyes, reaches for her cross and starts praying. A sinister laugh escapes the entity’s mouth, and the girl lets go of her cross but it is stuck into her skin, her flesh start to devour the small cross and she cries out in pain and kneels.
’Please, heavenly father save me!’ she shrieks, and feels two hands on her shoulders. They slowly take off her cross and throw it on the ground, relieving her hands from the burning pain. The girl feels the breath of the entity on her neck as it rustles:
’God is not here.’
The only sound that can be heard in the night forest is the scream of a young girl from somewhere deep inside the woods. An old crucifix next to a road leading to a small village creaks, and a velvet teardrop runs down on the face of the old Jesus statue.
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