This is an excerpt from some Fiction that I am currently working on.
Every morning as dawn broke the Church doors would unlock and Amy would take a walk in and around the church grounds; she’d look at the headstones, there were a few new ones; but mainly old and now lost and forgotten. Many thoughts crossed her mind, even those of wonder – whether this would soon become her final resting place; wondering if she would even get a headstone and if her unborn baby would be with her. Amy had even envisaged a burial plot; under a pretty little tree that she imagined would blossom during the summer months; sprinkling petals over her abandoned grave in years to come.
She continued to gently walk aimlessly. She began to talk a little to her delicate bulging stomach, this would be the only conversation she would have. A cold chill swirled around her; it was then she decided to go back inside the church; where once again the doors would close magically behind her.
The frail old woman hurriedly approached her; where she became forceful with Amy; almost seemed frustrated with her. Forcefully holding her by the arms while she placed her hand hard onto Amy’s growing stomach, she muttered something quickly and quietly; which sounded like a chant or a spell; willing the birth of the unborn baby quicker. She ripped her hand away. Amy stepped away quickly; wrapping her arms around her stomach for protection for her unborn child. Frowning at the woman; confused by her new hostile behaviour.
Outside, a blizzard was looming; heavy snow hit the stained glass windows of the church, Amy silently but quickly made her way to the big Oak doors, they hadn’t yet been bolted from her walk outside; she had only assumed she had now outstayed her welcome with Cora the person she had looked to as an angel that had taken care of her these last weeks. But as she neared them the bolts pulled themselves across to lock the door. Amy hadn’t noticed that the elderly woman was right behind her; ready to pull Amy away from the door, with some surprising force, to stop the teen from escaping.
She pushed Amy to the floor. Shocked and frightened she slowly got to her feet; looked at her attacker then looked around. She was looking for some kind of exit and she noticed a little oak door to the side of her; maybe this could be her door… She pushed, pulled, even kicked it; while tugged at the dirty brass doorknob; with no movement; it was very old and locked. Cora followed the 14-year old’s every move, every footstep-like a shadow. She again grabbed Amy with force by her arm.
Pulling her close, she placed her hand tightly onto Amy’s large pregnant stomach; she let out a horrified and painful gasp while tearing herself away from the cold elderly hands, replacing them with her own warm hands, protecting her unborn child. Cora disappeared.
Amy took the opportunity to try and escape again through the old side door, “Surely there is a way to get out of here?” She muttered to herself. Amy once again kicked and punched the door. She could see movement out of the corner of her eye, Amy turned to see the not so frail Cora slowly walking effortlessly towards her – as if she was gliding- carrying something in her arms.
Amy began to panic throwing bibles, prayer mats and iron candlestick holders at the woman; all of which missed her. When Amy failed to hit the woman in self-defence, she began throwing the objects at the ancient church stained glass windows in the hope it could be her escape route; or the very least a passerby would hear. She finally smashed a window; one of which had the beautiful Virgin Mary mastered in to. This angered the woman; she quickened her pace toward the terrified pregnant girl.
The elderly woman carried a bowl of warm water and fabric – possibly old curtains. Amy concentrated harder on her escape she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the window she had smashed; for a moment she couldn’t see Cora. The hood of her cloak now rested on her shoulders. Thick, unkempt, white hair down to her shoulder blades.
Cora was able to creep right up behind Amy, pulling her with force off the pew she was standing on to attempt her escape; she hit the floor, hard. Cora grabbed Amy by a handful of hair; dragging her whilst she kicked. Cora came across a frail, elderly lady; but the truth was she had utter strength behind her. Amy yelled in pain toward the open space at the altar.
Amy silenced herself with fear, now lying on the cold stone floor, too scared to move. Cora stood over her as she forcefully pulled Amy’s legs to buckle beneath her. Amy attempted to stop her by kicking which only made Cora angry; making the grip tighter, with that unbelievable strength. With her long thin pointy fingers, she placed them deep beneath Amy’s tatty long skirt…
It all happened so fast; Cora stood up and took a step back watching as pain ripped through Amy’s tiny teenage body. Water surrounded the girl making it too slippery for her to stand. There were waves of pain which paralysed her; all the while she still tried to protect her unborn baby with nothing but just her arms. Amy thoughts were only to her death, she knew she was about to die, no one would know or even care. Not even her family, she was dead to them, the moment she discovered her pregnancy. She tried to stand, but could only kneel; she was desperate for the pain to disappear. Cora continued to stand close, arms folded with no emotion or word to say; she pulled Amy to her feet dragging her a short space to the font; where she submerged the girl’s head into the clear water…