Creative Writing- Part Two

Complete silence. The only noise came from the gust of dry wind which blew through the ancient maze of dilapidated houses where windows have long shattered in the weakness of their structures and rotting boards hung desperately to cover the empty eyes of every desolate home. Doors hung on their hinges by a single thread, groaning with every sway of the wind.

I gulped, “Maybe I shouldn’t have wandered so far…”

All around me were stocky looking men, whose faces were obscured under their tattered beards and each of them seemed to be wearing a fedora hat which sat perched above their sunken eyes-inhabitants of this ghost town. A thick fog began to permeate the sky, blotting my vision and shrouding everything in a thick, ethereal- like veil, so dense not even the sun was able to penetrate its haze.

I ran to a clearing, standing on a protruding mound to get a better view. Over a ridge, to the north, which seemed to be encapsulated by knolls, was a derelict church.

“Maybe I’ll wait in there till the fog clears”- I mused to myself

I inched closer in hope of refuge and shelter like a moth attracted to a lurid light. Upon close proximity, the details were clear; the sides of the church were weathered and rough; the corners had large crevices as if mites had been chewing away interminably. Weeds scattered across the cracked asphalt of the path leading to the building.

The fog creeped up towards the church, it’s tendril like fingers clawing their way closer. closer…closer…closer it came, smothering the open pathway to the entrance of the oak doors.

I took a deep breath and walked in, “This is a really bad idea.”

Inside was no different. cobwebs lined each corner, gently rocking to the moisture laden wind blowing in from the naked and shattered stained glass windows. Delicate vases were placed on their pillar pedestals, etched with intricate design, now faded and inside them were withered thorns which wilted under the musty conditions. This church seemed to be exorcised of any holy presence.

Suddenly, pounding footsteps reverberated around the seemingly Victorian architecture of the church. BANG! The heavy oak iron bound doors closed shut behind me. I was trapped!

My peripheral vision then noticed a glimpsing shadow appearing spontaneously through the room. Appearing. Disappearing. Reappearing. Over and over again like a flickering candle. Then more footsteps- this time much closer and much louder.

“Ahh-looks like we have visitors…”

I swerved around to see a beckoning figure above me whose shadow smothered my own. The Shadow wore a black trench coat and had a scar engraved in his left cheek, almost like a groove. his eyes drilled into mine like a dagger; a bottomless abyss of darkness and sorrow. His elastic skin was of a pale, translucent quality that i was able to make out the white hue of his protruding cheekbones. He wore a pendant with a golden cross dangling loosely at the end of it.

The Shadow reached into his coat pocket and leisurely pulled out a cigar snuggled fittingly into a gold encrusted case, The Corona 1974, it read.

“Mexican”- The Shadow grumbled, breaking the spine-chilling silence, “one of the finest.”. His voice was of a brittle quality. “I’m in here for the same reason as you, young lady, it’s dangerous out there.”

“I-I-I got lost,” I feebly attempted to force the words out of my mouth.

In a swift movement, the Shadow again reached into his pocket; took out an object; uncrunched it; delicately placed it on his head- it too was a fedora hat. “I can’t stay young lady. It was nice meeting you,” he smiled enigmatically. Suddenly, the thick mist again crept in through the crevices of the church, enveloping us and obscuring my vision. I was instilled with apprehension. I could just about see the silhouette of the Shadow through the hazy blanket. “Wait-No”- in a desperate attempt i grabbed for the Shadow. My hand penetrated straight through the mist. Nothing.

Once the fog cleared, it was just me standing in the empty building. No fog. No Shadow. No sound. I took a step. A clink sounded. I looked down, my eyes still adjusting to the new light levels, and picked up a polished object- it was a pendant with a cross hanging on the end of it. On the back of the cross, roughly engraved, “From, Sierra”

I gulped, “I’m Sierra”

Again, complete silence.