Narrative 1

A Tired Soul

I traced the contour of the building as I approached it. The texture on the church façade is glorious, yet mysterious at the same time. I gripped tightly of the door handle and felt the immense weight of the door as I opened it. Monday afternoon is always quiet. Hence the building was barely occupied as I had suspected. Walking down the main hall, I could hear each footstep that I had taken towards the chapel. From afar, I saw the gentle glowing light being emitted from the chapel. It welcomed me. The chapel door felt lighter than the main entrance’s door. It opened with greater ease. It was as though it knew that I had nothing left in me to give. I walked towards the seat at the corner. Behind me, I heard the door click shut. I sat and sank my body onto the wooden seat. The stiff seat helped to hold up my tired body. It was so silent. I heard my own breathing in an unusually slow rhythm. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. In the darkness, I could feel the light shinning upon me from above. All my senses and logic shut down as I emerged in deep prayer and thoughts. I sat alone in the room, yet I do not feel alone. I heard no sound, yet my prayer was answered. With each exchange of air, I was regenerated. Even though I don’t know how long I had sat there, the seat was warm when I left it.