I was toying with the idea of having pictures of Shanghai Suzie in the chapel, just to mess with everyone's head. I'm still not certain I shouldn't have done that :)
The leader We walked maybe halfway down the length of the room before Jimmy stopped and stared intently at the statues. "Did they just move?" he whispered, his eyes darting about, hunting for evidence of what he thought he just saw. I want to say that it didn't affect me, but I felt my heart start pounding in my chest. "No," said Ben, though he glanced at me as though he was wondering why I hadn't said it first. "The light in here is awful and plays tricks on you. But," and he smiled as he said it, "it wouldn't be a bad idea for one of us to stand at the doors just to be on the safe side. I wouldn't want to have to spend the night in here." Jimmy arrowed back to the doors without a word, just quick, sharp footfalls on the stone floor, and I looked at Ben and shrugged. "You take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right," I said. The statues, thankfully, were just that: carved from stone with wooden additions here and there where (I guess) the stone would be too thin to be structurally sound, or maybe where they wanted a more accurate texture. The mirror was too high up for us to reach and looked too heavy to warrant us trying to carry it through mountain caves while holding smokey torches and anything else we'd found. It turned out to be angled though, so that we could see ourselves and the pews in it by looking up. "I wonder why," said Ben, frowning. He waved and his reflection waved back. "So you can see the front and the back of whoever’s leading the congregation all the time?" I suggested. “The preacher, I guess.” I took a step back and saw that there were shelves below each statue: two narrow shelves built into the pedestals on each side, looking like they were meant to hold sheets of paper. One looked to still have something in it. "Makes sense," said Ben, pondering. "But what kind of preacher would you distrust that much?" "Is there any kind of preacher you do trust?" I asked, and it wasn't really a rhetorical question. Ben could sometimes surprise me with the things he thought about other folks. I pulled a thin, large book out from the occupied shelf, and ran my hand over the cover: black leather, embossed with what might be letters. "The one that told us that Suzie was a portent of the Second Coming was pretty on the mark," said Ben. "What's that then?" I opened the book carefully, hearing the leather spine crackle. The pages inside were heavy paper so there were only about six of them. Four had drawings on, abstract geometric shapes that meant little to me. The last two pages appeared to have prayers, written in that mangled misspelled English that our other book had used. "He said she was the whore of Babylon," I said, "and he said she was riding on the beast of Ba'al." "She had found a donkey." Ben nodded. "It always sounded like it was praising ancient demons." "She'd put on weight around then," I said. "It was just protesting its burden. Come on, let's take this and go look at the docks before it gets dark. The more I see of this place the less I want to be in here without guards and servants to sacrifice first."
Greg - hah! Well, all this creepiness managed to make me forget that she's likely on their trail, so a reminder of her existence would certainly have had interesting results :)
Hah, I see Ben managed to remember her anyway. The statues continue to creep me out, the mirror is unsettling in its own way, and that book... well, I hope nobody is around to get mad at Red for taking it.
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I was toying with the idea of having pictures of Shanghai Suzie in the chapel, just to mess with everyone's head. I'm still not certain I shouldn't have done that :)
The leader
We walked maybe halfway down the length of the room before Jimmy stopped and stared intently at the statues.
"Did they just move?" he whispered, his eyes darting about, hunting for evidence of what he thought he just saw. I want to say that it didn't affect me, but I felt my heart start pounding in my chest.
"No," said Ben, though he glanced at me as though he was wondering why I hadn't said it first. "The light in here is awful and plays tricks on you. But," and he smiled as he said it, "it wouldn't be a bad idea for one of us to stand at the doors just to be on the safe side. I wouldn't want to have to spend the night in here."
Jimmy arrowed back to the doors without a word, just quick, sharp footfalls on the stone floor, and I looked at Ben and shrugged. "You take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right," I said.
The statues, thankfully, were just that: carved from stone with wooden additions here and there where (I guess) the stone would be too thin to be structurally sound, or maybe where they wanted a more accurate texture. The mirror was too high up for us to reach and looked too heavy to warrant us trying to carry it through mountain caves while holding smokey torches and anything else we'd found. It turned out to be angled though, so that we could see ourselves and the pews in it by looking up.
"I wonder why," said Ben, frowning. He waved and his reflection waved back.
"So you can see the front and the back of whoever’s leading the congregation all the time?" I suggested. “The preacher, I guess.” I took a step back and saw that there were shelves below each statue: two narrow shelves built into the pedestals on each side, looking like they were meant to hold sheets of paper. One looked to still have something in it.
"Makes sense," said Ben, pondering. "But what kind of preacher would you distrust that much?"
"Is there any kind of preacher you do trust?" I asked, and it wasn't really a rhetorical question. Ben could sometimes surprise me with the things he thought about other folks. I pulled a thin, large book out from the occupied shelf, and ran my hand over the cover: black leather, embossed with what might be letters.
"The one that told us that Suzie was a portent of the Second Coming was pretty on the mark," said Ben. "What's that then?"
I opened the book carefully, hearing the leather spine crackle. The pages inside were heavy paper so there were only about six of them. Four had drawings on, abstract geometric shapes that meant little to me. The last two pages appeared to have prayers, written in that mangled misspelled English that our other book had used.
"He said she was the whore of Babylon," I said, "and he said she was riding on the beast of Ba'al."
"She had found a donkey." Ben nodded. "It always sounded like it was praising ancient demons."
"She'd put on weight around then," I said. "It was just protesting its burden. Come on, let's take this and go look at the docks before it gets dark. The more I see of this place the less I want to be in here without guards and servants to sacrifice first."
Greg - hah! Well, all this creepiness managed to make me forget that she's likely on their trail, so a reminder of her existence would certainly have had interesting results :)
Hah, I see Ben managed to remember her anyway. The statues continue to creep me out, the mirror is unsettling in its own way, and that book... well, I hope nobody is around to get mad at Red for taking it.
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