The Old Catholic Church
My family and I arrive for the first time at the old catholic church. Being protestant, we were criticized behind our backs. While my parents made conversation, I climbed the outside of the wooden porch. The other boys were impressed with my skill. While we were climbing up, we happened upon a small hanger filled with chairs, which were hanging from the ceiling like a roller coaster. A smaller boy sat in one, and the chairs started to push themselves back further in, row by row. I tried to get the boy to come down, but he was stubborn and his row was pushed back. We all followed him inside. As I pulled him off the chair, the hanger door closed itself, trapping us inside. Panic soon filled the air, and everyone shouted and pounded on walls. I reached into my pocket to call for help, but found only an empty candy wrapper. We broke through a window, which was like that on an airplane, and the smaller boy poked out his head. We asked him what he saw. He described the land barren and wasted. Our mothers and fathers lie dead and charred. Something had passed through.