There are two paths I can go by. God, I don’t know which to choose.

But that cold feeling comes back. It burns. One path is marked by a sign with a Cross on it. The other bares no sign, and no indication of what could be down there other than dark looming trees. It seems obvious enough to me, take the one with the sign.

It takes a while, feels as though hours pass, as I walk down the path. That feeling inside hasn’t gotten better at all, and I’m growing scared. Snap! I didn’t make that sound, and now that I’ve had enough, I bolt. Eyes closed, tears streaming down my cheeks, I tear down the road in hopes I can find some safe haven from the terrors behind me.

Thud!

Face first into a door. My head reels back, I fall flat on the ground, and I look up. My eyes are swimming from the concussion, but the pain doesn’t seem to exist. While rubbing my head my eyes finally adjust to see a great church standing over me. A small dent is in the door from where I head but, and I think I can hear some soft chanting.