In the dimly lit graveyard towards the church he suddenly noticed the silhouette of a figure stood motionless and looking his way. Tom’s heart raced. He dipped behind the headstone, his heart pounding. ‘It was two in the morning,’ he thought, ‘Is it him?” The moonlight still blanketed his surroundings and Tom slowly raised his frame until he could see above the stone. The figure had gone. His eye’s flicked left then right. He felt afraid. In the darkness he moved to his right. He kept himself low and crawled to the next gravestone resting his back against it. He breathed hard and moved to the next stone. A crunch of gravel followed by a slow movement of the loose stones drifted on the strong breeze causing Tom to hold his breath. He scampered to the next grave along knocking over a vase of dead flowers. Tom grimaced as it fell against the stone slab. All of a sudden he heard two more crunches of gravel and in a panic Tom moved again. He moved to the next grave and then the next keeping as low as he possibly could. There was another crunch of gravel followed by something being dragged. Tom kept circling around the graveyard until he reached the back of the church.
He looked to the sky and saw the cloud begin to thin away. Worried if the figure had sabotaged his car rendering an escape impossible or whether the figure was alone, Tom decided to hide in the church. Rushing the new key from his pocket, he felt his way along the wall. It was becoming ever more illuminated as the cloud cover became less and less. His right hand felt the rear door and Tom quickly located the lock. Second by second his actions were being lit up by the moonlight. The key wouldn’t turn. “Oh god, please turn,” he said to himself and twisted the key even harder. The flesh around his fingers had turned white. He let go of the key and blew cool air onto his sore hands. “Please, please,” he said once more gathering his fingers around the small metal object. It needed a great effort to turn the new key in the rusted lock and Tom’s muscles relaxed in relief when it finally opened, yet it was the creak of the door that gave away his intentions. Tom rushed inside and locked the door. He rested his head against the old oak panels and breathed heavily. He heard irregular footsteps on the other side of the door before the turn of the handle jerked Tom away from the door. The handle was twisted again and again, each time Tom taking a step back wards. The door was locked, but he backed away thinking about where he could hide.
The noise from the handle stopped and Tom heard the sound of the strange footsteps walking away from the back door. He ran to the alter and took a foot long candlestick in hand. 'The church is a place of worship and not a place to hide, how stupid', he thought as he took a firm grip on the candlestick ready to use it as a weapon. Tom struggled to find a safe haven in the darkness. Not even the coloured light from the stained glass could show him a place to conceal himself. Suddenly, there was suddenly a noise from the front of the church. A bang on the door caused Tom’s heart to jump followed by a muffled jangle of keys that softly reverberated around the stone building. He stepped between the choir’s pews and crouched down hoping whoever was outside would soon leave. The double oak doors opened.
Tom ducked down even further. He heard a footstep click against the tiled entrance hall. It was followed by the sound of a foot being dragged behind it. There was another step and another drag across the cold floor. They echoed around the chapel, each one heightening Tom’s anxiety. The footsteps paused momentarily before continuing slowly, their sound becoming slightly distant. The mysterious figure with the limp walked around the pews using the natural light to search the shallow alcoves that decorated the walls. Tom thought about running, but he was too frightened to move. The footsteps had been around the sides of the church and became louder as the figure walked down the centre aisle. Step, drag, step drag.
Tom built up the courage to catch a quick glance of the chapel. He slowly lifted his head and ducked down again. The dark outline of the person had stopped in the middle of the church.
Part one of 'Chapelford Parish Hall' continues here
