It's time to give Houses her dues,
She leaves us the greatest reviews,
With comments prolific,
And praises specific,
Not to mention one hell of a Muse!
Meanwhile,
She's frozen there for a moment.
Little chills play up and down her spine, as she pauses there, stuck in that fight or flight decision for what seems like ages. As ever, fight wins out.
Swirling around quickly and dropping to a poised position, she looks behind her at the altar once more. The torch on the wall behind the altar isn't lit anymore, and the shadows lie differently across the altar and its burden. A different set of chills crawls down her spine.
She can hear nothing still – just the breathing of her body, and the crackle of the remaining torches by her.
She doesn't want to go back there, and look at it again. Her fingers brush unconsciously across the crumpled and defaced photograph now in her pocket. She slowly straightens up once more, senses still screaming both danger and safety at her in equal measures.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns around again and away from the altar. She tries to convince herself that she's doing it to tempt whatever might be out there, but she knows that that's not the reason.
Deep breath, chin up, walk forward into the light. Not that hard is it? Leave the dark behind her.
She walks forward, determined, legs falling into the old familiar half strut, half prowl that she mastered all after all those evenings out there. She walks down this strange lighted corridor of stone, and doesn't flinch this time as the torches go out behind her in tune with her progression.
It feels like she's made a choice.
And lastly, I've gone and done something stupid : signed up for a Faith ficathon run by