chapel

I went throught a dark forest. The shadows in front of me moving. Suddenly I came by a derelict cottage. It was beginning to rain, I hid myself in the cottage. A part of the roof was down, nevertheless the cottage was engouh shelter for me for the night to stay in and keep myself dry. I was just looking at the drops falling down around me while I was trying to keep myself under the piece of the remaining roof. There I saw a man running with a basket full of mushrooms heading towards the cottage, he came in without almost noticing me just saying: bloody weather. I moved myself a bit and he sat down beside me. I asked him about the amount of mushooms picked. He said that there were many this time and if it did not start raining he would have picked up much more. He was cleaning his mushrooms and i was just attnetively sitting around and listening to his talk about the forest, the villiage nearby that he comes from and stories about the ruin of an old possibly Kelt chapel just a few steps from here. He said to me that there were many human sacrifices and that the ghosts of those sacrified keep walking around the chapel. I did not pay attention to the ghost but I must say that the sombre forest, weather and his stories made me feel awkward. Even more when he said that he must go because his family would be worried about him. He started picking up his things and went away with a friendly smile. It stopped raining and so I went on with my journey. I visitied the old chapel and tried to imagine the horrors that happened here centuries ago. While being immersed in the imagining of the dark times of these corners of the earth I did not notice that a group of school children approached the chapel as well. A teacher barely took notice of me and kept on with her lecture about this place. I stood there silently, moved apart a little so that the kids can see the ruins in more detail. I sat at the corner and just listened to her talk. It was getting brighter and brighter, the gloomy, grey skies gave way to the sun. Suddenly all appeared much more lively. The torture and death of past, the ghost were all gone. Although I did not know the group of kids and although they did not care at least to greet me, their presence made me feel good in this place. The group was given a time to look around and the school teacher abruptly asked me if I were a history enthusiast. I responded that I were not and to keep the conversation flowing I asked her what brings her here. She replied that she is a volunteer teacher in an extracurricular subject of nature and enviromental protection and that todays afternoon was dedicated to the visit of the adjacent wood to learn a little bit about the ancient history. Unfortunatley they had to go back to the village and so we parted. The cloud appeared again and it started to drizzle as the teacher and the children were leaving and disappeared behind the trees. Again I started to feel afraid of the ghosts of the victims. The group was almost gone in the forest. I sat alone and let the thick walls of the chapel be my shelter against the upcoming rain.

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