Hearing the phantom calls of the organ,

And the soft murmur of the church choir,

Awakened from sleep with a feeling she couldn’t describe,

She got out of bed and followed it outside.

A careful mist lay over her small town, a light shield of protection.

On the rusted train tracks she walked,

Each new step brought no new thoughts to her head.

Under the glow of the moon and through the trickle of morning, she journeyed slowly,

In a trance, past the rubble of bricks, past her old home.

The trance held her carefully, a thin web withholding thoughts.

She knew not consciously of where she was headed, but memories tumbled

uncomfortably in her mind and she stopped walking when the abandoned church

sprawled ahead of her.

Hearing the old double doors creak open slowly, as if revealing a crematorium,

was a comforting sound. Her trance held all worries and thoughts away, and she floated

from outside into the church, breathing the moldy air with satisfaction.

She wandered in through the hall, cradling pictures of past ministers and married couples,

all smiling wide under their film of dust, as if they knew she was here,

with them in their scarlet hall. More doors opened, and she found herself treading the

worn carpet leading into the great sanctuary. Though dusted with filth, it still held her

breath with awe. The windows depicted tortured demons and glowing angels in stained

glass, and morning light, faint and delicate, came through the eyes of the martyrs, as if

afraid to enter the room of the church.

Up the steps, leading up to the altar she floated,

Soft notes, a piano, a harp, filled the air around her.

Daintily fluttering, the intricate strains of music lasted only seconds,

but brought up more memories. Silence seemed heavy, but lasted only

seconds as the notes came again, this time slightly louder,

as if another instrument had joined in but no voices, only the melodious laugh of playing.

Silence again, then music, deftly gaining speed and sound. Closing her eyes and swaying along

with the sweet music, it played in her ears and whispered for her to crawl into the altar,

the warm scarlet red altar. The music curled around her head and squeezed her eyes

shut and she obeyed it and the music took control as she climbed into the large

box. The next time she heard the music that had mysteriously come, it was

no longer fine and sensitive, but was played overwhelmingly loud and accompanied

with screeches. Metallic screams took control of her head, banging the knowledge

of who she was. She winced as she heard the magnificent stained glass murals

breaking into a million pieces and doors slamming open and closed. As the

altar slammed shut and thus locked her in, her muffled screaming matched the

fast, cruel pace of the music that had taken her sanity, and she knew nothing was impossible.