As one reason for doing this blog and aiming to do it daily is to improve my own writing by virtue of practice-makes-better, I’ve been checking out The Daily Post to see if I can get inspiration or ideas of what to write about from there. I noticed this morning that they have a weekly photo challenge. Now, I’m not really a photographer for anything other than recreational purposes, but you may have noticed I enjoy writing. And I really like that picture. So I’m going to try and write based on the weekly photo challenge whenever I can, starting with this one right here.
An immense set of doors stood before them. Made of oak so thick and old that it was stained grey by the weather of the years, and nearly looked like metal at first glance. But only the thick circular handles were actually made of metal, and given the season, those were quite cold to the touch. Rusted, too, they learned, when their first few attempts to lift and pull the handles to gain entry failed. It finally took both of them pulling at one door to get it move at all, and the rusted hinges creaked, the sound echoing out into the dead forest.
Inside, what had once been a celebrated place of worship had fallen into disrepair, dust-covered and cluttered, wearing a few remnants of its better days, like an aged matron bedecked in finely made clothing that was long since out of style, refusing to forget her youth. The stained glass windows were broken in places, but what was still whole spoke of great talent and care having gone into the artwork. The ceiling’s paint was chipping and stained with mold and mildew, but had traces of the gold-leaf edging and immense murals of the faith. An angel’s now-scraggly wings were all that remained of the central graceful creature once depicted above them. Nature had begun to reclaim this place, now that its celebrants had abandoned it.
The furniture had been battered and pushed aside–before it’s last occupant left, whoever and whenever that had been, they had made some adjustments. Stacks of benches by the walls, the main area of the floor was empty but for the profane symbols scrawled there in black. Those helped explain why the altar was destroyed with such intentional malice, shattered into splinters of wood and smashed slabs of marble.
“What do you think came first?” she asked. “Was it abandoned and then despoiled, or the other way around?”