The Dark Pond

CHAPTER ONE: Sunday Night, I'm in th cemetary sitting on a stone bench, facing the front side of my best friend's tombstone. Surely, he is dead, but I can feel his presence strongly upon me. Almost as if he sits by my side on the stony bench listening to every word I speak and channeling into my unconscience, allowing him to hear every thought which roams through my mind. I miss him dreadfully. As tears secrete from my eyes, I feel the warm and ticklish sensation as when they run down my face. My eyelashes are soaked. With each sob of grief, I experience a cold shiver run up my spine from inside my vertebrae. I speak of the old times, the days when he was still around, and all of the triumphs and tragedies he and I underwent. After I complete my visitation, I stand up and drop a rose at the foot of his tombstone and leave...

CHAPTER TWO:Under the moon-lit night sky, I find myself walking down an empty road. Finally, I arrive at an antique catholic cathedral. The outside is detailed Stained glass windows inhabit outside of the church all around. Dark, medieval, skillfully crafted gargoyle statues rested on various parts of the upper elevations in front of some of the windows high above. I walk through the front doors of the sanctuary. The doors close behind me as I walk in the front room. I instantly come to a stop. To my right and left are wooden pues. Up ahead is a wooden table with a glossy finish, like that of the pues. A thousand or so previous lit candles burn as they sit upon the surface of the table. Many more candles fill up the remainder of the room. Hung upon the wall ahead, above the table, lies a huge wooden crucifix including a lifesize carven and hand painted figure of Jesus Christ. I look up at the painted ceiling, where I find works of Michelangelo. The paintings come to life as they begin to move and glance down at me, deadly staring into my eyes. I am both, shocked and freightened as I stare at this amazing phenomenon! I lower my head in fear, trembling, as I refocus my eyes back on the crucifix. The figure on the cross is no longer a figure. It is now the real Jesus Christ himself! He is breathing heavily and weakly moaning as he struggles to turn his heavy head as he focuses his eyes upon mine. I can sense the words, "Help me.." judging by the expression on his weary face. He seems to be hung on the cross with huge nails driven into his wrists. Around the edges of the head of the nails, dark, thick, blood excretes from the wounds beneath. The same with his feet. A green crown of thorns, beautifully woven, rests on his head. The sight of all this unexplainable chaos extremely creeps the hell out of me, causing me to do a 180 and jet out through the cathedral doors, as they slam behind me.

CHAPTER THREE: I ran. My destination was home. Nothing could stop me as I sprinted along, that is, until I tripped and fell. SMACK!! I went down hard. I was grateful for my cat-like reflexes, for I broke my fall. Lying before me, on the ground, I saw a green book. (to be continued)