Day 772

When All Hallows Church was bombed in the War they found a basement that didn't exist on the official floor plans, modern or eleventh century when the church was first built. At least according to the newspaper that came out the day after the bombing. That's the only mention of it.

There's no detail to the article, just a few paragraphs ending in "The local council are organising further research into this newfound historical site." and now that the church and graveyard are no longer in use or in modern memory the area's ripe for exploration.

That's what they tell themselves as they jump the fence and head up the crumbling concrete steps to the bordered up front door. The graveyard all around was isolated by a high, ornate brick wall that muffled the sounds of nearby traffic to a dull thrum barely heard past the ever present birdsong. There was nobody else around to see them and nobody to hear them.

While the door looked blocked at first, a gentle push had it swinging wide open. The scent of stale air and decaying foliage met them as they headed inside the dimly lit church, phone acting as a flashlight with 999 ready to be dialled just in case they weren't alone. From the closure of the front door they could assume they were the only one there or at least the most recent one there. Squatters chose the most peculiar of places sometimes and one could easily stumble across them like a rabbit hole in tall grass.

The main room they walked into had old pews stacked on either side, piled right up to the vaulted ceiling and covered in a thick layer of dust and webs. The ground was similarly coated with old autumn leaves in piles wherever the wind had dragged and dropped them. Towards the old baptismal font there were bookshelves and old shovels, both coated in wet dirt. No, not wet dirt, soaked dirt that seemed to be running down the shovels in thick brown rivulets to join the large dark puddle of it on the floor.

They trod carefully around this and to the small door that presumably lead to the vicar's office. In this case it lead to some of the office which had mostly been consumed by what could only be the opening to the basement. Light drifted through the poorly repaired ceiling, revealing the flooded interior. Such a shame, the clay-based soil of the area held water like a natural bucket. Whatever was down there wasn't about to be discovered by them - not today at least.

As they headed out to the main congregational area they noticed something that hadn't been there before. Large, wet footprints coming from the puddle by the shovels- shovel even, there were two there when they went inside. they held their phone close to their head, ready to dial for help and run at the first sight of another person.

The footprints seemed to be leading to one side of the room,right between two stacks of pews. They tried to peer through the cobwebs but saw only the wall. Heart pounding loudly they headed swiftly to the front door, not quite hearing the sound of metal scraping stone following closely behind them or the faint slapping of wet feet keeping in perfect pace with them.

After several tense moments they made it to the front door and to the sunlit cemetery that was still utterly deserted. They turned around to close the door and found themselves face to face with what could only be described as a drenched, mud covered corpse. Her eyes were bulbous and cloudy, a rigor mortis stiff grin stretched over her face and a shovel poised to strike over her head.

With a throaty chuckle she took slow, careful steps back into the gloom of the old church, eyes never leaving theirs until she stepped into the old office. A loud splash indicated that she went back to where she presumably came from. For now.