Suddenly, something was coming at me. A sudden explosion of fear came across me. Then… It hit me, smack bang in the middle of the face. It was a photograph. A man. With a beard. He looked very suspicious. Like he was covering something up. A rush of thoughts ran through my head. Who is this man? Where is he from? How did this photo get here?
Puzzles unanswered. Puzzles I wanted answered. I decided to carry on. Down the long winding road. This was a journey that needed finishing.
Trudging along, I looked down at my feet and back up. There, in the middle of nowhere stood a mysterious, aging building. A spire climbed up towards the earth’s atmosphere as though it was trying to escape this portentous place. Overgrown ivy clambered up the building’s side. Stain glassed windows decorated it but instead of being colourful and imaginative, they had been replaced with dull and boring looking ones. I staggered towards one of the windows, through many nettles and other untamed weeds. As I peered inside I noticed a minute candle flickering in the distance. I scanned the building for any sign of movement, there was none? Why was there a candle and no-one there?
I retraced my steps to the front and stood, amazed at the size of the wooden door, which was slightly ajar.
I pushed the door open. As I pushed, the door creaked. BANG! The door hit the back wall and made me jump. I tiptoed carefully through the entrance. It was pitch black. The candle that I had seen from outside had extinguished.
Was someone here?
I peered around seeing all sorts of rotting wood. It smelt really bad. I tripped over knitted cushions that looked as though they had experienced years of knelt prayers. I wandered aimlessly to the front and there stood an alter. It looked like it had recently been decorated, but the flowers, which were once white roses were now a dirty yellow colour. I spun around quickly and realised that the whole place was decorated like this.
Turning to face the alter again, I remised about my wedding day. It was gorgeous. Lots of white roses. Just like here.
Behind the alter laid a large, brown coffin. On the top, engraved on a gold plaque were the words:
A beloved wife, mother and daughter.
25th Jan 1940 – 5th Nov 1995.
Wait… That was this year. Why was this coffin still here? Why hadn’t it been buried?
I opened the coffin. Inside was a body. Not of a woman… But a man.
This man was familiar to me.
This man was my husband.
