The Second Writer Games: Life and Death

Quarterfinals - Heaven, Hell, and Somewhere In Between - Entries

Hans Corone

Sanctuary.

That is what a church is, to a degree.    Of course there are various other words to describe such a holy place, but sanctuary is the one that comes to my mind at the sight of half delipidated half pristine church.

I step through the aisle, letting my fingers trail along the wood of each pew.  I step inside the pew.

There is a cushion on the ground for the purpose of kneeling upon.   My knees sink onto it and I clasp my hands together.

What should I say?   There are too many words to say to form a coherent prayer.

But I want to say something.  This is the first chance since I've died to pray.  Maybe I want to just because  it's only polite to pray before I use this church as a shelter.  Maybe I want to because a part of my yearns for the faith.  Maybe I just need something to believe in.

I open my mouth to pray the Our Father, but the words that come out are those of the Act of Contrition.  My sins pour out of me of their own accord, every wretched act I have committed draining out if my mouth.

I finish my prayer and rise to my feet.  I turn around and the sight of two others rushes to greet me.  Heat rushes to my face.

Madeleine and Finn.  They must have heard every word I said, but they give no sign of it.    Finn creeps around the back while Madeleine investigates the opposite section of pews.

Both of them show more interest in finding a place of rest within the church than they do in me.  They're no threat; at least, not now.

I lie down on the pew and let my gaze wander up to the ceilings above. If I squint, I can make myself believe this is the church from home.  I can make myself believe that I'm home.

But then my eyes tire of squinting and they open and the fantasy falls to pieces.  I am not home.

As if the arena itself is acknowledging this thought, the earth trembles beneath me.  I sit up and swing my feet around to the ground.   My church companions call out in fear from their respective places. 

With every passing second, the shaking only grows more forceful.  My knuckles turn white clenched around the wooden edge of the pew and I grit my teeth in a refusal to allow the prudent earthquake to reduce me to the act of teeth chattering. 

A human like moan of a shriek emits from the earth, directly beneath the aisle, where all three of us have moved to avoid flying objects.  I fling myself down to the ground of the pews and open my mouth to utter out a warning. 

The earth herself drowns me out.  She opens up wide right in the aisle.   I lift my head and look to place my gaze upon the event at place. 

Finn clutches the pew and meets my gaze with fright in her eyes.  I see she must have managed to jump up onto the seat of the pew before the aisle split apart.  I can only presume Madeleine was not so lucky.