Out of breath, finally I can walk a little. I was running through this park for a while I never thought I would come to an end where I can take a breath. Running is everything, a moment to get away from everything, life. I found a short cut today to get home from the park the last time I was running so today I’m going to try it out. It’s a bit dark to go through but that can be because the sun is going down too. I wish they had some streetlights; I can barely see the other side of the tunnel. I can feel the mud and water on the ground going through my sneakers, it feels cold, slippery, but I can still walk through without falling. I slip on a rock, I didn’t see it there. My foot stepped on top and slipped to the side, I almost fell but caught myself on the walls of the tunnel. Rocky and wet, I can feel the vibrations from above, the cars racing by I can feel them but I can’t hear them, only vibration. I stand against the wall for a few, my body feels the vibrations, it feels nice. Its starting to get chilly, colder than it did at the beginning of the tunnel, it feels good to get away from the sun, the heat has been awful. Wait, I can hear myself breathing, through the echo around me, I can hear myself thinking without any other noise or sound to cloud my decisions. This feels good, I don’t even want to reach the end, I am almost there, I can feel the mud getting warmer at the bottom of my feet, am I near? I can see the sky light at the end, it has gotten darker than it did when I first walked in. I am on the outside again, where I can’t hear my thoughts, but the screeching of the tires, people talking away, dogs barking, and children laughing. I can’t hear myself. I want to hear myself again.

I enter through the overwhelmingly wide gate that ends at east ten feet above my head and immediately sneeze. The dusty books permeating the walls, desks, and floors turn their spines to look at me as if my sneeze had disturbed their lifelong peace. The air feels worn and heavy as if the years have dragged it down with the yellowing dust that covers almost every surface. I can hear the tapping of my shoes coming from the other side of the room, foreign and unwelcome. I stop abruptly at the center of the room and try to familiarize myself with this forgotten place that is so uniquely new to me, yet so old. There are kerosene lamps resting on the pillars that line the long corridor I have been walking through, and there is at least one hardcover book laying under each. Why would anyone use books as coasters?

I spot what looks like a statue at the end of the hall but I decide to leave it for the finale of my journey, this is the kind of library that demands patience and leisurely exploration. I decide to grab the first book that catches my eye and my sudden motion sends layers of dust flying all over the shelves. One, two, three more sneezes and I whisper “bless you” to myself. The floorboards creak with the effort of supporting all of my 120 pounds, but despite their worn look they feel stable and protective beneath me. When I sit and rest my back on the shelf, cross my legs and think this is perfect lighting for reading. The lamps are placed in a way that the light seems to be stemming from the ground and the dim flickering of the flames soothe you into the meditative state the books have been living in for however long they have been here. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to the books, all of a sudden feeling guilty for intruding upon their haven.

Michael walked the halls of this abandoned hospital. This place brought back dreadful memories for him. As he walked the hollow hallways of Our Lady Queen of Angels the smell brings him back to that fateful day that everything changed. He stops at what use to be a nurses station covered in filth and swarms of insects, rodents and blood. Michael flashes back to his time spent here at Our Lady Queen of Angel. He remembers the kindness of the nurses and other medical staff but the fear he felt knowing that his end maybe near…

Theresa was walking across the parking lot toward the church.  She couldn’t believe that in her fifty four years of living, she had a reason to step foot inside of a Catholic Church.  She just wished that her first experience was attending a wedding rather than a funeral.  She noted that she was about to enter a rather modern church, that looked as thought it had been built withing the past thirty years, as evidenced by the absence of stone and morter from the days of old.  She was already intimidated by the massive weight of the brass door, adorned by jewel toned stained class, donning images of men, women, and children of biblical images..

Upon entering the church, she was amazed to see how the building disguised an endless ceiling, that she immediately thought of as a stairway to heaven.  The creme colored walls allowed the shiny mohogany floors and double rows of rectangular shaped pews filled with solemn faced people in dark clothes, to catch her eye.  The warm sun shining through the floor to ceiling stained glass windows gently adorned the creme colored walls with a kaleidoscope of jewels.  At the same time, the faint smell of earthy, warm, spicy smell of frankenscense welcomed her to this enchanting fortress.  At the very front of the church, a rectangular shaped large table was covered with a white cloth, topped with an amethyst, silk runner.  She recalled that table being called an alter.  Behind the Alter, there was a large, life size wooden cross topped with a statue of a man with his head wrapped in a thorned crown and large nails through his bloody palms and crossed feet.  She sat down in one of the hard pews and waited with anticipation for the coffin to make it’s way in for the ceremony.