Let's take a walk on a gravel path.

Pass by all the weeds and grass.

Cut through the broken down playground.

Stand at the edge of the field.

Stare down the stone and brick building.

And walk close to it, slowly, listening for screaming sounds.

I hear the rocks crunch under my feet as a draw closer to the building.

I gaze at the large stained glass windows.

It's almost as if I can feel them as they shatter.

Taking a look about I can spot all the plants.

The flowers-.

The bushes-

Both made friends with the little red ants.

The concrete is cracked and overthrown by glass and slightly browning reeds.

I gently tiptoe up the steps and breathe in deeply as I see my mind up to perceive.

I open the vandalized door, I flinch, it loudly creaks.

I walk in, I stare at what a predicament I'm in.

There's banners scatter all about.

Trenchcoats laid out on the coach.

And gasoline cans littered throughout the dimmly painted room.

I limp my way to the corridor and I understand it will be over soon.

The batteries are spilled all over the run down counter tops.

The vases are chipped and broken.

I saunter out to the room with the mud caked floor.

There I meet a man in Black.

One that I've never met before.

He sets himself on a spinning chair and crosses his legs to me.

He begs me to take a seat.

I rest my body on the floor.

My heart is racing I will be no more.

He looks me in the eyes.

He gazed at me, a master of disguise.

Ripped off his hood and promised me for being as fearless as I was, I wouldn't have to say goodbye.

For only the bravest will rest when death is present.

He guided me through the halls, to meet with the door once again.

From then on I wasn't afraid of the church.

For inside of it's walls I had a friend.

Ariah Christman