The Chapel

Hello and happy autumn! I know the season officially turned over a week ago, but there’s just something about October.

So, I did a thing. I entered in a (very) short fiction writing contest, just for fun. It was a bit last minute — not even enough time for my critique partners to take a peek at it. Totally flying solo here. The Fall Writing Frenzy is in its third year and garners entries from some incredibly talented people. Please do check out past winners when you have a chance. A million thank you’s to Lydia Lukdis, Ameerah Holliday, and Kaitlyn Sanchez for this great opportunity!

I chose this photo to inspire my story. Or perhaps it chose me.

 

The Chapel

This time I stopped.

I had felt the pull of the little chapel before, but always kept walking.

A pew creaked as I entered.

“My love never came,” a young woman in a trim plaid suit said. “We were suppose to marry today.”

I sat down next to her. The date on the Sunday service hymn board was today’s. Wednesday. “He didn’t show?”

“Killed in action.”

“Oh! Afghanistan?”

“Germany.”

“I’m sorry.”

The woman got up abruptly. “One last wedding. I should get extra hymnals.” She paused. “And you should leave.”

Then she was gone. 

I took her advice.

“Look what I found,” Mom said when I got home. She handed me a photo. “It’s your grandparents’ wedding.”

A young couple stood on the steps of a small chapel. I felt its pull.

“Today is their anniversary. The last wedding at that church. It burned down that night.”

I felt a chill and looked again at the picture.

Off to the side, a woman in a plaid suit was staring into the camera.

And at me.

I began to shiver.

“Wh-who is that lady?”

“The church secretary. She died in the fire. Legend says she started it.”

Not just legend.

(200 words)