Chapter Text
The church doors shuttered from the storm, clammy palms hastily locking it with a click as you looked down at the puddle now slicking the tile. A deep sigh ran through you, turning to glance at the priest who was fluttering around the hall, making sure each window was fully shut even though you were certain he had gone as far as to double-check by now.
“Dad, relax. They’re closed.” You chuckled, watching him pause and give you a sheepish smile.
His eyes trailed to the pool of water at your feet, already starting to head towards the storage. “Oh, let me get a mop for that-“
“Nah, I got it.” You waved your hand, “Just take a seat and calm down. One bad storm isn’t going to blow this place off the map.” You smiled and shook off some of the excess water before heading towards the closet yourself, grabbing a mop to clean it up.
It had only been a couple weeks since you started living in the church with your father (and the people’s father considering he was now a priest). You weren’t one for religion yourself, at least not like this, but you had joined his decision to lead the church nonetheless. Half of that was just because you knew he could use your help, and half because you had already trained to deal with the dead, having worked as a gravekeepers apprentice in your old town. It was a done deal in your opinion.
The puddle was cleaned, wiping down your shoes to prevent further spread. After the mop was put away, you slumped yourself down onto the pew next to your father.
He seemed more relaxed, no longer fiddling with his hands like he tends to do when antsy. Instead, he looked over at you with an overly exaggerated proud smile, “You’re so grown up now. I remember the day you were born…”
You laughed, “The day you weren’t there for?”
“Oh, right.” He laughed, wrinkles deepening as he looked at you fondly. “I remember the day I found an orc on my morning stroll and just happened to rescue a little kid. You were so cute that I instantly fell in love and adopted you right then and there.”
You chuckled. The story changed every time he told it.
You fell into a calm silence, listening to the wind and rain rattle the windows and walls. You looked up at the statue standing at the far back wall, illuminated by the sconces that flickered with low flames, staring at the dead eyes of a figment of a god you didn’t believe in.
Until it stared back with crimson eyes.
You hastily blinked, and it was gone. Turning to look at your father, he was looking out the windows instead, as if the mirage was yours and yours alone. As if you imagined it.
Maybe you needed sleep.
“I think I’m gonna head to bed. You staying?” You stood, stretching a bit. Those pews were never comfortable.
“Yeah. Never know if someone will come by.” He smiled, “Sweet dreams. I love you.”
“I know, I love you too.” You grinned, starting to walk towards the door that led to a connected hall.
Once the door shut behind you, you were alone. Yet, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t. It was like a vulture circling, where you could see the shadow but were sure you still lived and breathed. And as you breathed, there was no vulture, and there was no one but the statues lining the walls that never so much as glanced as you passed. Because statues don’t move. And statues don’t blink.
As you eventually made it to the wing and entered your room, the feeling faded, heaving a sigh of relief.
And as you slept that night, you could only hope no red eyes watched.