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MY DEBUT IN CHURCH
At times you wish your reality is a dream you will one day snap a finger and wake up from; yawn lazily with your lung juggling up, stretch your waist, wipe your eyeballs and be glad you escaped from the trauma. Then it becomes a torture when your nightmares come in series, each episodes leaving you with a warning to choose your traumatizing reality over the pressure of your incessant nightmares.
The worst part is when you don't know if the what you're going through at the moment is a reality or a nightmare. Like I was walking home last night through the path near the stream where the old and only church in our community sat like a mother moaning her only child. My grandfather with whom I grew up is a pagan and would always jest at the members of the church as people whose life is filled with grief and boredom. I never got a chance to see what the inside of the church looked like so this fateful night I thought of feeding my curiosity.
Like they were expecting me after a long while, the church's wooden door opened for me on their accord. This wonder blurred my vision to see what the inside looks like because in a split second I couldn't imagine how the doors would open without me touching them and there is no one behind it that could have been said to have opened it. Before I could beat a hasty retreat back into the dusty road that leads home, a drunk breeze grew hands and pushed me into the dark arms of the auditorium as the breeze left with the lights on the candle that lit the auditorium.
What if someone stab me from no where? What if there are snakes or scorpions crawling the floor of the auditorium? What if I'll never see my grandpa again? I couldn't get my mind to stop creating endless list of bad occurrence that could happen to me as I struggle with the darkness that clothed the auditorium. The dank sweat that ooze from my pores irritated my arms and made my trembling hands float a little away from my skin as if boils grew suddenly in my armpit. I feel fear in the air that cemented my sweat to my skin, my skin crept and my bones rattled like an invincible finger massaging my neck.
While pressing my eyes hard against the spooky darkness, I noticed something that looks like light in shape similitude of the four cardinal point. The harder I pressed the more images it birthed, a man bleeding hanged on this wooden illuminator. Is this the ghost my grandpa says haunt the soul of sinners in here? My fears mounted. I looked closer to check if the man is dead or alive. He was looking straight into my eyes as if asking for help. Could this be his trick to get me closer, then hurt me? I staggered backwards and hit a bell on a wooden stool, it resonated a million waves in my earlobes. Suddenly I begin to have this creepy feeling like someone that hated me was staring at me, then it's only me in the auditorium with my shadows tiptoeing festina lente behind me. My muscles screamed of a horror unseen, I held my heart in my hand and run from my life.
Whether this is a horrific reality or a frantic nightmare, I never want to experience it again, never!
© The Dhramatikpen
The worst part is when you don't know if the what you're going through at the moment is a reality or a nightmare. Like I was walking home last night through the path near the stream where the old and only church in our community sat like a mother moaning her only child. My grandfather with whom I grew up is a pagan and would always jest at the members of the church as people whose life is filled with grief and boredom. I never got a chance to see what the inside of the church looked like so this fateful night I thought of feeding my curiosity.
Like they were expecting me after a long while, the church's wooden door opened for me on their accord. This wonder blurred my vision to see what the inside looks like because in a split second I couldn't imagine how the doors would open without me touching them and there is no one behind it that could have been said to have opened it. Before I could beat a hasty retreat back into the dusty road that leads home, a drunk breeze grew hands and pushed me into the dark arms of the auditorium as the breeze left with the lights on the candle that lit the auditorium.
What if someone stab me from no where? What if there are snakes or scorpions crawling the floor of the auditorium? What if I'll never see my grandpa again? I couldn't get my mind to stop creating endless list of bad occurrence that could happen to me as I struggle with the darkness that clothed the auditorium. The dank sweat that ooze from my pores irritated my arms and made my trembling hands float a little away from my skin as if boils grew suddenly in my armpit. I feel fear in the air that cemented my sweat to my skin, my skin crept and my bones rattled like an invincible finger massaging my neck.
While pressing my eyes hard against the spooky darkness, I noticed something that looks like light in shape similitude of the four cardinal point. The harder I pressed the more images it birthed, a man bleeding hanged on this wooden illuminator. Is this the ghost my grandpa says haunt the soul of sinners in here? My fears mounted. I looked closer to check if the man is dead or alive. He was looking straight into my eyes as if asking for help. Could this be his trick to get me closer, then hurt me? I staggered backwards and hit a bell on a wooden stool, it resonated a million waves in my earlobes. Suddenly I begin to have this creepy feeling like someone that hated me was staring at me, then it's only me in the auditorium with my shadows tiptoeing festina lente behind me. My muscles screamed of a horror unseen, I held my heart in my hand and run from my life.
Whether this is a horrific reality or a frantic nightmare, I never want to experience it again, never!
© The Dhramatikpen
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