Author's note:
Wow, it's been a while. Two years?
I've decided to continue with this story. For a long time, I wanted to keep working on it, but never had the time. Now I have the time. I can't promise the updates will be quick, but this story should be finished.
For now, I've redone the first chapter – which is now to be the prologue. It's been a long time since this was written, and I feel that my writing has improved since then. It doesn't seem right to add new and better chapters to a prologue that might not be as good. If you've read this before, the actions are pretty much the same, just written better. If you haven't, then that doesn't matter.
So, hopefully this will temporarily satiate those of you who have asked for more. At least until I'm able to get a new chapter up. And those of you who did ask for more and have been waiting, I appreciate it a lot. It's nice to know I've written something that people are actual eager to read.
And now, on with the show.
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The huge, heavy wooden doors loomed in front of Jen Mitchell for quite some time before she finally reached out to the brass handle. She pulled open the right door, just enough for her to slip in before it eased itself shut behind her. Five stairs, covered in worn red carpet, rose up in front of her. Slowly, she approached the steps and climbed each one. When she reached the top, she stared through the entryway down the aisle in front of her. It seemed to stretch on for miles before coming to an abrupt halt at the altar.
The room was lit only by the several candles that lined the walls and were placed on the altar. Jen gently lowered herself into a pew near the front of the room. It was deathly quiet in the church, and she made an effort not to let the pew creak and shatter the precious silence. Silence was a rare commodity for Jen. The pew creaked anyway, piercing through the silence and echoing in the empty room. Sighing, she leaned back in the pew, no longer caring how much noise she made. The silence had been disturbed now and suddenly seemed far less precious.
Jen's conscience had been nagging at her for quite some time now. She hadn't been in a church since her Confirmation, and that was nearly ten years ago. Her mother, on the other hand, was a devout Catholic. She'd gone to church every Sunday and on all religious holidays. When Jen was younger, her mother used to say grace every evening before dinner. But that was before Jen had moved out and stopped going to church, and before her mother had gotten sick.
Judith Mitchell had been sick for a long time. The outcome of the illness should have been expected. Too many doctors had tried things that didn't work, too many prescriptions had been filled. There was not to be a happy ending to this story. Still, when her mother died, Jen was shattered.
The pew creaked loudly once more as Jen rose and slid out into the aisle. She slowly strode up to the front of the church, stopping just in front of one of the statues that adorned the front wall. It was the Virgin Mary, back firmly attached to the wooden wall, hands outstretched as if to welcome all those who were lost. Jen dropped to her knees. Struggling to remember the words, Jen recited the "Hail, Mary". It was the only prayer her mother had taught her. Everything else she'd learned in Sunday school.
At first, she stumbled over the words, occasionally going back to repeat a line she'd messed up. After that first time, the words came to her more easily, and Jen recited the prayer again. And again, and again, and again. By the time she finished, she wasn't sure how many times she'd actually gone through the prayer. She only hoped it was enough to make up for the times she didn't say it, and for the disappointment her mother had felt when she decided not to go to church anymore.
Jen rose, brushing the dust off her knees, and turned to leave the church. She stepped slowly down the aisle, head down as she watched the red carpet pass beneath her. Something caught her attention, however, as she reached the approximate middle row of pews – the soft creak of one of the pews at the back of the room, as though someone were shifting their weight ever so slightly in their seat. Jen froze, her ears focused more, and she could hear a very faint whispered mumble. Nervously, she headed towards the back of the church, the mumbling growing just slightly louder. She came to a stop at the back corner of the church, behind the last pew.
Straining her eyes in the shadow, she could see the figure of what was not quite a man. He had pointed ears and (Jen was sure she was imagining it) deep blue skin. He sat crouched in the pew, feet underneath him with his eyes closed, praying fervently. Jen couldn't make out what he was saying, and it took her a moment to realize it was because he was not speaking English. It sounded to her like German, but she wasn't exactly fluent in the language so it was just a guess.
The man clutched a rosary in his hands, which only had three fingers each. Judging by the bead he was on, and assuming he had started from the beginning, Jen figured he had been there for at least as long as she had, probably longer because she hadn't heard anyone come in behind her. She wondered how she could have missed him the whole time she was there. He blended so well with the shadows that her eyes began to hurt from trying to focus on him. She looked down at the pew and there, emerging from the shadows into the faint light, was a long blue tail with a pointed end. Her eyes widened and she looked back up at the creature.
"What are you?" she whispered accidentally.
The man's prayer came to a sudden stop as his eyes popped open. He had been praying so intensely that he had been entirely unaware of her presence until she spoke. He turned his head to see who or what was standing beside him, looking almost hopeful for a familiar face. His eyes met hers for just a moment, but it was long enough for Jen to be taken aback by how brightly they seemed to glow with a disturbingly yellow color. Not much more than a second later, he was gone, leaving behind him swirls of dark blue mist.