~Abraham Wylie~----Location: Graveyard --> Church - Searching----
There was a certain foreboding air that lingered about.
A sign to turn back.
Yet he still continued riding through the gravestones and statues of weeping angels, on top of a bicycle no less. The theatre that he carried on top of the back of the bicycle shook from the bumps and the rocks, he had to reach out a hand to keep it steady. Ahead, through the fog, the trees, and the foreboding air, he could see what looked like a church. The "Empty Church".
Yes, this would most definitely a place where no one would suspect someone to hide in. And since he was dumb enough to murder in broad daylight, perhaps he was dumb enough to hide around here. Perhaps.
He knew he shouldn't be here. The church was feared by even the most toughest criminal around. No one dared to go near it, not even speak of it. And if they did, they would only tell you to keep out, to never dare to explore the forsaken place, but they wouldn't give any valid reason for it. "Something's inside there" they'll say. "Something that doesn't want to be disturbed." Some drunk man once blabbered on about how people who stay in too long get trapped forever, tortured endlessly by the very thing that kept them out. The fables were frightening enough, the sort that would give the hardened man nightmares for weeks. An "Empty Church", that really isn't empty, until you find out too late.
he was not supposed to be here.
But he also knew that he was a ghost story himself.
He would like
to think that this was all that silly fables were. In fact, he was certain of it. Surely someone might take advantage of such lovely history, and hide in it. Isn't that what people do? Hide behind silly tales, thinking that they'll keep them safe? As if they were really going to be a part of that tale themselves?
Sure it was incredibly idiotic, sure he may regret it. But that murderer was out there. This was one of the places to look. It was either this, or the sewers. He just felt that a church would be more appropriate. People seemed more afraid of the church than they were of the sewers.
He had run over the clip from the StopRecorder numerous times before coming here, studying the silhouette's shape, how it was framed against the fog. Even though he could not see the face of the man on the roof, he could very well make due with a shadow. The only thing that worried him is that the murderer was probably smart and changed clothing in order to distort what was perceived by many. 'No, couldn't be'
he thought, reminding himself of the murdere's mistake.
Abe dismounted the bike, which he parked in front of the churches doors. That sense of foreboding he felt increased as he walked towards the churches door. He felt a certain terror that told him to turn back, that he could still save himself, as if an unforeseen force was telling him of others that weren't so lucky...or for that matter, aren't
so lucky. He couldn't place it, but he could sense that it would give him a certain satisfaction to turn away and leave. That didn't make sense to him. Even if he would be right in turning away (in more ways than one), why would it give it satisfaction when he gave up on his desire to enter this place by doing so? He needed
to enter this church. Yet it was only his heart that was speaking this. Everything else was telling him to run like hell. Go away, and run
he thought, possibly as a response to those feelings of dread. His hands felt cold on the church's doors. Go away, and run
. He turned the doorknob, ever so slowly. Go away
. He opened the door. RUN
There was somebody there. Abe found himself filled with relief that lasted for a microsecond before the terror resumed. He was hoping to find someone here. The only thing that bothered him was...
He wasn't the person he was searching for.
Abe watched as the man disappeared through a door to another room. "Can't believe it..."
he said to himself. The man wasn't
supposed to be here. He
wasn't supposed to be here. He supposed he could turn back, and go look for the murderer in some other place. He turned to look at the entrance. It looked so inviting, like a lost lover. He would have gone back, perhaps he should of. But that man...he had to figure out what he was doing here. He did not look like a murderer, or a naiive lad, what was his purpose? Abraham gulped, he had to keep moving, to keep a watch on this guy. If anything happened...he would know. The ghoul silently followed the man into the room, against his better judgment, while at the same time he could feel that damned theatre calling out to him.