Day 218

Churches hadn't always been a place of sanctuary.

You pondered this as you sat among the crowded pews.
The sermon was taking longer than usual, seemed everyone had fallen asleep.
While Father Thomas was yelling at the ceiling, you snuck back a row, squeezing
in beside someone you vaguely recognised but couldn't name.

You'd missed the first half of the sermon by accident, some old woman on the
street outside grabbed you and began raving about "the screams of The Flock
as the Wolf among them lay waste to appease a Dark God" and yes, you could
hear the capitals in her speech.

It was almost pitch black inside the church but you managed to grab a seat right
on the edge of a side row.
Father Thomas was already in full swing so you didn't dare speak, he had excellent hearing.

It occurred to you a few times that churches had once been full of death where plague
had struck and desperation drove the people to the arms of their Lord.
In fact, your church had records of this, a mass grave was found in the basement
and was claimed to be from the Black Death but some people thought it was way older.

The sermon was drawing to a close now, Father Thomas looked exhausted.
He swayed as he walked out of the door beside the alter and the door slammed behind him.

Everything was quiet in the church.
Too quiet.
The only sound was your breath and dripping water.

Slowly and carefully you crept out of the church and out of the door only to be greeted by
eight police cars and more officers than you'd ever seen before.
You were grabbed and dragged away to be questioned by a policewoman who informed you
that the church was now a crime scene.

An anonymous tipper had called to report the sounds of screaming coming from inside as
well as gunshot.

You realised that your trousers were damp and stained red.