Page 75 of Haunted Prey

Rows of pews took up either side of the center aisle. Some broken in half, others burned or graffitied. The altar at the back had a bent leg and was covered in dust and debris. The long, stained glass window above it had a web-like crack stretching from one corner to the next, some of the glass blackened from what I could only guess was a fire. Light from the street outside broke in through the red glass that was still intact, giving the chapel an eerie red glow. In one corner there was a statue of a saint. At their feet someone had lit candles. Seven in total. The tiny flames danced silently in little glass holders.

Emery cast his light to the ground where I could see chunks of the roof and more debris. He led me down the aisle, making sure to tread carefully, glass and stone crunching under our feet. At the altar, he turned right, taking me toward a door to one side, built into an alcove.

“Usually, the reason anyone finds their way in is from here,” Emery said. “Someone either forgets to lock it or leaves it open on purpose.” He grabbed on the brass handle and pushed, and the door swung open with ease.

Emery stepped aside, giving me a clear view outside. Beyond the door was a path leading into what looked like a small garden—or what had once been a garden, now overgrown and wild. A few small trees stood scattered around a dried-up fountain, and beyond that was a wrought iron gate.

I couldn’t make out much more until Emery aimed his light into the darkness. That’s when I noticed a couple of statues and a path winding around a small field dotted with trees. Among them, I caught the faint shapes of headstones.

A tall iron fence surrounded what I knew now to be a graveyard, ending at the gate where the fence shortened slightly to encircle the garden.

Like the church, it was also eerie but strangely beautiful. I could imagine it had been well-kept when there was someone to attend to it. Now, there were weeds growing all along the fence and tall grass in the graveyard. Without Emery’s flashlight, only a single streetlight on a narrow road on the other side of the fence showed anything at all.

“Sometimes I take a walk around at night,” he said, searching the area with his light. “I’ll find Cassidy out here too.”

“You think she’s leaving it open for people?” I asked, stepping in as Emery shut the door and locked it.

He shook his head. “Andrea, I think,” he said. “I have a feeling she doesn’t like the idea of a church being closed off. Unfortunately, she’s too trusting and doesn’t realize most people don’t come here to pray. It’s just another place to get high. Or vandalize. Or steal. Either way, can’t afford to have someone realize we’re here.”

As he took me down the central aisle, I noticed some more graffiti along the walls, one of a creepy grinning face, another that read in large letters: “The devil was here.”

No...that wasn’t right. Emery’s light shifted away, then back again, and I found myself staring at the words once more. It read, “Drake was here.” But for a moment, I could have sworn it said something else.

I moved to keep up with him. There were more faces and shapes, plus a couple of detailed drawings and tags. But nothing like those words.

He led me to the front of the church, to another set of doors. “This was the only part of the church that got the least damaged in the fire. Or so Andrea said. Micheal bought it a year ago and renovated parts of it.”

“Like downstairs,” I said.

He tried one door. Locked.

He took two small metal tools out of his back pocket. “Not just there.” He kneeled to the door handle, setting the flashlight beside him, then started picking the lock.

I stared at his back. “Won’t he get pissed if you go into places he doesn’t want us to?”

I knew he had to be smirking as he focused on his work. “That’s the fun part. I like pissing him off. Andrea mentioned he’s done some work on the front and the upstairs. Figure we can look around and see what he’s hiding.”

I let out a quiet, nervous laugh. “Trespassing in an abandoned church,” I mumbled. “Can’t believe I’m actually here. I don’t think I’ve urbexed since I was a kid.”

“Urbexed?” he asked.

“Urban exploring. Went with a couple of friends once. Some creepy old hospital. One of my friends swore she saw a ghost.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Back then, no. I didn’t believe in them back then.” I hugged myself with my good arm as Emery twisted his tools around in the lock. With one swift move, something clicked, and Emery turned the knob, pushing the door open.

Beyond was the same murky darkness. Emery looked in. He bowed his head and whispered something I couldn’t hear. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or someone else. Swiftly, he picked up his flashlight and stood, putting his tools back in his pocket. He took my hand and we slipped inside.

There was a marble bowl on top of a stand in the center of the room. Beyond that was the front doors which were locked.To the right was a short hallway leading to a set of bathrooms. A metal gate was kept partially open to the left.

Emery slid it aside. On the other end was a staircase and short hallway. We checked the rooms along the hall first and only found an office with nothing but a bare desk and a couple of book shelves. Another room had a couple boxes and an antique wooden cabinet with a beautifully carved set of doors shaped like spades and daggers.

We moved on to the staircase, Emery going up first while I clutched at his belt from behind. It was obvious some work had been done in this section of the church, parts of the walls and ceiling painted over with new plaster, no debris or dust on the steps. There was a single door at the top locked like the last.

“Hold on,” Emery said. He placed one hand on the banister and another against the wall, bracing himself. I let go of his belt just as he swung his foot up and kicked the door. The wood splintered and pieces flew.

One more push with his foot and the door flew open, slamming against the back wall.

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