Pro Memoria

For the third time this week I walked into the old church to find a small stream of mystery fluid right down the center aisle. It was dark reddish brown in color, with a metallic smell. No, we do not ask what the liquid is. With as old as this building is, I don't think we want to know. I didn't recall it raining last night but considering how close to the ocean this place sits, it’s hard to say. It is that time of year where the dew is omnipresent, and the ground appears to be perpetually moist. It is almost as if the swamp is trying to return and take my once clean converse shoes down with it.

Of course, a call to the employer has already been placed. A leak would not be that far-fetched given the age of the building, but I was not about to try and find it myself. Besides, ladders and I simply do not get along. I am sure you can imagine why. Silas really didn't seem all that bothered, or surprised when I described the mystery fluid the first time. I am just going to assume this has happened before. He did, however, inform me he would make a call out to his guy, but that it might be a few days.

There are things you learn when taking care of such an old national landmark. Other than the mystery fluids that appear, there are an ever-growing list of odd things that just happen. Of course, there was the phantom candlelight incident that happened about a month back. There is a long-eared owl that has taken up residency in the vacant bell tower. Did I mention that the bell actually will ring on occasion? How, I am not sure. Silas said it was off to be repaired, which I found out is quite the lengthy and fascinating process. I might touch on that more later.

I would have to say the oddest thing I have learned its things just like to move on their own. Since the church is open to visitors, though I have yet to see any, part of my job is to make sure that every morning the doors are unlocked and every evening I ensure they are locked. I like to do an inspection, because like the fluid situation, that's not exactly a safe thing to leave out for potential guests. Throughout the day things get moved, sometimes a candle seems to be lit. Do people still light random candles for the dead even if the church if the church is deconsecrated? Chairs will be moved. One time a chord was being played on the pipe organ and the moment I stepped into the nave the bellows were shut off.

The sound was mildly terrifying in person, but absolutely amazing. The notes just decayed in midair.

With the sun setting earlier and earlier each day, my inspection of the grounds seems to come faster than my brain could comprehend. It was starting to leave me disorganized a bit, which is not the end of the world, but I try to keep myself to a schedule as I am the maker of the structure in my life now. I began my closing duties, which isn't all that hard. Check all the windows, run the sweeper, and once a week dust across everything. It was dusting day, so I naturally made my way through with a duster, and then a neutral polish.

I gradually made my way down to the end of the Nave, a half circular area called the choir where a large ornate gentleman's bench, a wooden cabinet similar to a buffet where i am assuming they stored hymnals at, a table directly in the center with communion items and large arched windows that let in heaps of light. Between each window was an ornately framed collection of coats of arms. Somewhere similar with names of people long past, all members of the same family. Others were different.

The smell of a freshly snuffed candles filled my nostrils as I stepped up into the choir. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickled up as I neither saw smoke, or pools of hot wax. I walked around the choir a moment, trying to find where the smell was coming from. As i neared the frame with the largest coat of arms, the smell grew stronger. There were some low tables, but no candles.

Drip.

Something dripped down to the ground in front of me, make me step back quickly. Naturally my head became a gyroscope in a free spin, trying to find the source of the drop in the act. The blue painted ceiling was pristine. The white walls were clean. The coat of arms had what appeared to be a bloody handprint across it. I gave myself a mild concussion bringing my eyes back to the glass of the coat of arms.

"Huh." I said audibly, crossing my arms rather angrily across my chest as i stared intently at the scene before me. That wasn't there this morning. I know it wasn't there last night. It didn't seem like it was there a moment ago either. The red substance looked fresh, slightly tacky with a good runniness to it, hence the drip.

BANG BANG BANG!

I near about jumped out of my skin as my eyes darted to the direction of the rude boisterous knocking that had so efficiently pulled me from the deep recesses of my concentration. My eyes fell upon the door under the communion table. That door shouldn't have anyone knocking.

That door led to the Vault...

Now you can assume what i did next. Hightailed it out of there, locked the place up and called my boss, Silas. Because that situation right there is exactly what happens in the movies, and we aren't silly enough to stick around. Well, I hate to break it to you.

I didn't.

I did however, stare at the door for a good five minutes waiting for something else to happen. Every hair, poor and freckle were on high alert. Sure, old places settle on occasion, but not like that. When my heart rate finally got back to the low 100s, i double checked that the door to the choir was locked. I looked around the church, hoping to see someone about who could be playing a practical joke on me. There was no one. The only sound i could hear was my own blood in my ears. I looked back down at the vault door, waiting for something to happen again before my eyes drifted up to the windows. It was suddenly extremely dark outside. Here I was, losing time and breaking that number one rule. Do not be out on the grounds after dark. Well. I guess sometimes it cannot be helped.

The moment my foot stepped down out of the choir, soft whispering of many voices as one reached my ears. Words spoken were mostly in a language i really couldn't quite place. However, there were two words i could understand.

Pro Memoria.

It hit me where the voices were coming from. I glanced over my shoulder back into the choir, down at the vault door. A faint light lined the shape of it on the floor. I decided this was enough, hightailing it down the Nave to slam the lights off and bolt the doors. I have no problem making sure nothing untoward is happening, but whoever was in there, they were just going to be locked inside. I was not about to be the last girl standing in a slasher flick.