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Walking in, I see the pews, while dusty, hold very little of it, so little, you can see the gleam of the wood underneath. You can see that they have recently seen the police of wax. You can also see that the floors have also seen the same wax. Well, maybe not the same kind, but waxing as well. I have no clue what kind of wax goes on what. I don't care. My point is, someone has been housecleaning here, and it has been recently.
The angry animal noises, and noisome fog curls around me through the door I left open, yet it doesn't touch me. Surprising, that.
Dismissing it as unimportant now that I know that it cannot harm me (I refuse to entertain the possibility that it will not, not cannot), I walk further into the church, halting halfway down the aisle. I rub at the polished pew with my hand as I consider where to go. Up, or to the back.
The fog makes up my mind for me.
It curls its way (it is no longer in the shape of animals anymore. Once I had left the house, those shapes had reformed back into the almost liquid form of this shifting mass.) Where was I? Oh yes, it curls its way toward the back of the church.
I follow it. Well, not so much as follows as walk with it. I would be walking *in* it, but it refuses to touch me. It makes me wonder if I had not run from it in the house, what would have happened there? It makes me wonder a lot of things.
According to the survivor report...everything started with the fog.
But back to now. With the fog semi-guiding me, yet trying to avoid touching me...I wondered at the whole madness. Just what in the world is going on?
(to be continued…)
©2009,CherryDumas
