Reaching the bottom of the spiral staircase, Michaela found herself in a hallway, not unlike the one at her school, yet something about it just didn't feel right.
Fluorescent lights were mounted above her, surrounded by corkboard ceiling tiles, most of which were stained brown from moisture. While many of the lights were out, those that remained somewhat functional were flickering erratically, as though they were on their last legs.
The strobe effect from the faulty lighting almost made the warped linoleum floors below look like they were twitching, especially in the parts where the ground had become so uneven that the top layer had cracked to reveal the dark moldy concrete beneath.
Turning her attention to the bulletin board on her left, Michaela saw a series of children's drawings; all crayon depictions of Jesus on the cross. While the smiling stick men gave Michaela a much-needed feeling of momentary normality, she couldn't help but notice how errantly the images had been mounted to the wall.
While each individual picture held a certain feeling of innocence and happiness, they had been stapled to the bulletin board at odd angles, sometimes two or three in a twisting stack, as though whomever had been tasked with this display was doing so on an impossible timeline.
While everything about her surroundings told her that this must be the Sunday School of the Church, she still couldn't shake the odd feeling that was being generated by the dim lighting, and generally neglected condition of everything around her.
Taking a moment to peer into one of the classrooms at the side of the hallway, Michaela could barely see anything aside from the edge of the small desk closest to the door.
Whether it was the complete absence of natural light from the outside world, the sudden ache in her gut, or the alarm bells going off in the back of her mind, something about this room felt too dark, almost like it was consciously hiding something from her.
Finally giving in to her sharper instincts, Michaela took one last glance down the hallway in front of her, shaking her head in protest as she simply said, "Nope."
Turning around to head back upstairs, Michaela almost walked into the solid concrete wall that had suddenly appeared behind her, showing no signs of the staircase that had led her down here in the first place.
As a wave of panic surged within her, Michaela started pounding her open hands on the wall, certain that it must be an illusion of her exhausted mind, but the wall held firm, refuting her silent claim.
Just as Michaela finally gave up on her hopes of returning to the Chapel, she suddenly heard the sound of the crying child become audible once again, from somewhere down the hall.
With no other options, Michaela hesitantly followed the noise down the mysterious corridor, hearing the faint sounds of the Reception Room pass above her prompting her to think, well at least I'm still in the Church.
A little further down the dim, flickering hallway, Michaela followed a forced ninety-degree right turn only to come upon a forked path moments later, presenting the option of two directions. The one on the right led further along the dimly lit path she was already on, whereas the one on her left led into pure darkness.
Even just glancing down the darker hallway brought chills to Michaela's spine, and in that moment she couldn't help but feel as though something within the darkness was watching her, assessing her, waiting for its moment to strike.
While Michaela's instincts were screaming at her to flee, she already knew there was nowhere to go except for one of these two directions before her. Perhaps that's why she felt a slight wave of relief when the crying starting up again, coming from the semi-lit path on her right.
Even as she continued in that direction though, Michaela's mind flipped through a catalog of dark theories towards what kind of 'Lovecraftian' nightmare may have been hiding down the path she didn't take.
Images of interwoven, blood-soaked tentacles flashed through Michaela's mind, along with glimpses of countless eyes, all blinking out of sync so that the creature wouldn't lose track of its prey for even a fraction of a second.
Pictures of rows, upon rows of jagged teeth, sawing back and forth in anticipation made Michaela suddenly conscious of how sweaty she was, and then of course there were the terrifying thoughts of how many piles of bones were assuredly cast off to either side of the hallway, picked clean of any and all flesh.
Michaela unconsciously picked up her pace to a brisk walk, taking another two forced turns, one to the right, then one to the left. As she tried to silence the horrific fictions that her mind was generating, she still couldn't shake the feeling that something was behind her, following her, stalking her.
It was almost as if Michaela could feel the darkness' invasive gaze upon her, like an unwelcomed hand on her shoulder, or that time she caught Mike Telford staring down her V-neck T-shirt after he had asked to borrow a pen.
As Michaela looked behind her, she saw nothing but the same flicking lights, rotten tiles and warped linoleum that had been there moments ago, yet still she continued onwards, driven by the nagging sense of fear.
Before Michaela could turn back around though, she walked into something solid, rattling her brain for a moment with the force of the sudden impact.
Shaking her head clear, Michaela found herself standing at a large, black, metal door with a rusted push-bar across its midsection.
Warily glancing over her shoulder once more, Michaela expected to finally spot her pursuer standing in the distance, watching her from the edge of the shadowy corner, but instead she found herself alone.
For a brief moment she found comfort in that, but any feelings of security were immediately shattered when the flickering of the lights in the hallway became increasingly erratic, and the fixtures in the distance started shutting down one after the other, in quick succession leading towards Michaela's current position.
With wide eyes and a fresh wave of terror washing over her, Michaela watched as the darkness quickly approached, making her feel like she was a meek herbivore that had suddenly spotted it predator emerging from the tall grass at full speed, two seconds too late.
Frantically, Michaela tried to push her way through the large metal door, but the rusted push-bar didn't want to budge, as though it were stubbornly working in tandem with whatever hid in the darkness.
As a fixture a mere twenty yards away from her position turned off, Michaela began throwing all of her weight into the door, yet still it refused to budge, but in that moment of desperation, a sudden wave of clarity washed through Michaela.
She thought back to that sensation of the 'fireball of rage' that she had felt at her core, when she was in the Chapel. Sure, it seemed stupid, but nothing else was working.
Staring at the door with malicious intent, Michaela channeled every ounce of anger and fear that she had swirling within her and put all of her negative energy into a single, solid kick at the push-bar in the center of the large door.
The hinges screamed in response as the door finally gave way, allowing Michaela to jump through the doorframe mere seconds before the darkness would have fallen upon her.
Turning around to slam the door behind her, Michaela was certain this was the moment she would come face to face with her pursuer as they made one last, desperate lunge towards her (like they did in the movies).
Instead, Michaela found herself staring at the same dimly lit hallway she had just traversed, the lights randomly flickering from above as though they had never turned against her in service of their dark master.
In a state of confusion, Michaela remained frozen in the doorway, her narrowed eyes scrutinizing every inch of the complicit hallway in the hopes of finding its tell, until, seconds later, she heard the crying child again, somewhere behind her, closer.
Pivoting around, Michaela found herself in some sort of Mechanical room, surrounded by large furnaces that she assumed would have typically been chugging away on a chilly November afternoon like this one, yet all of these machines were cold and silent.
Taking a few steps forward, Michaela soon sourced the sound of the crying child to somewhere on the other side of the room. Quickly navigating around the large machinery, she then continued to narrow down its position until she had pinpointed the source... on the other side of a solid brick wall.
With a growing sense of frustration, Michaela followed the length of the wall in both directions, searching for any doors or vents that might give her access to the other side, but she found nothing in either direction.
Coming back to the wall's center, Michaela started pounding her fist against it, calling out to the child trapped on the other side, "Hello? Can you hear me? I'm trying to help you, but I don't know how to get to you!"
Michaela held still for a moment, pressing her ear against the cool, dusty bricks to listen for a response, but instead the crying just continued, causing her to grow as empathetic to the sounds of sorrow and loneliness, as she was concerned.
Whether it was Michaela channeling all the anger and sadness like she had with the stubborn metal door, or if it was merely the sound of a child in distress that now drove her compulsion, Michaela suddenly felt overwhelmed with willful determination and began pounding her fists on the brick wall in the hopes that it would, somehow, miraculously give way to her intent.
In spite of the pain on the outside edges of her closed fists, Michaela kept pounding away on the solid, rough surface, until she heard the sounds of small pebbles hitting the floor.
Looking down, she saw a couple small piles of dust at her feet, from where the old, dried pieces of mortar had fallen away from around the bricks, and exploded on contact with the floor.
With newfound purpose, Michaela scanned her surroundings once more and laid her eyes upon a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, mere feet away.
Hastily, she grabbed the red cylinder from its mount. With both hands she lifted it over her shoulder, releasing a war-like scream as she drove the butt end of the extinguisher into the softened spot in the middle of the wall.
The first few hits merely loosened more of the topical layer of mortar, sending out a resonating, hollow noise that reverberated off the walls as some pretty solid vibrations were sent up Michaela's arms. After the third strike, she was convinced she might pop her shoulder out if she kept going.
By the time she had brought her tool of destruction down a fourth, fifth and sixth time though, the bricks began cracking and falling away, slowly unveiling a room on the other side. A few strikes later, and the wall finally surrendered to Michaela's assault, crumbling to the floor.
Urgently clearing away a few of the bricks blocking her path, Michaela waved the cloud of dust away from her face as she stepped through the breach into the mysterious hidden room, in search of the crying child.
However, as she crossed the threshold she had created, the sound of crying ceased altogether, only to be replaced with the horrid stench of a decade's worth of dampness and rot.
Standing alone, plugging her nose in this dank, circular chamber, Michaela soon felt the hauntingly familiar feeling of the darkness watching her again, only this time, from mere feet away.
Pulling out her phone, she turned on the flashlight and began panning it back and forth across the room, finding no signs of anyone, or anything for that matter, in the chamber with her.
Placing her hand on the gently curved wall as she followed it, she found no signs of edges, or corners that would signify an adjoining chamber, nothing but poorly carved rock creating a near-perfect circle, as though this were some kind of subterranean silo.
Moments later, Michaela realized she had been following this wall for some time, but must not have come all the way around yet, as there was no sign of the hole through which she had entered.
Turning away from the wall, Michaela panned the room with the light from her phone once more to realize why that was... the breach was gone.
Somehow, while Michaela had been wandering the circular room, the wall had sealed itself back up without her noticing, as though all this while she had been destined to become the next 'weeping child from within'.
Panicked, Michaela began searching for any way to get out of the room, walking in the same circle that followed the gently arched walls only to find that, contrary to the breach, nothing about this cylindrical prison had changed.
Backing away from the wall, Michaela suddenly felt herself bump into something behind her. Turning around, she saw a three-foot stone pillar in the middle of the room that had not been there moments ago.
Upon closer examination, Michaela quickly found herself lost in the beautifully carved images of vines that climbed up the exterior, reaching for the flat surface at the top that was covered in a thick layer of dust.
As Michaela continued studying the intricate designs on the pillar, something from the top caught the light for a brief moment, prompting Michaela to make a few attempts at blowing the dust off the pillar's surface.
Moments later, she uncovered a silver ring hidden beneath, a simple silver band with a flat surface on one side, upon which some sort of symbol had been etched with precision.
Picking up the ring, Michaela examined the design, finding herself confused by the odd simplicity of the symbol. It looked more like a map of a catacomb than any kind of family crest she had seen. Yet still, something about the ring was calling to her, peering inside her, turning her curiosity against her.
Even though Michaela could feel the darkness still watching her, this time from mere inches away, she still couldn't pull her eyes from the ring that she was holding. For a moment, she almost felt as though it was talking to her, promising to be her source of protection from the unknown fate that waited in the shadows.
Perhaps it was the shine of its metal, its odd design, they way it seemed to whisper subliminal intentions into her consciousness, or perhaps it was the sound of low breathing coming from somewhere just behind her, either way, Michaela soon found her better instincts muted under the collective forms of influence as she slid the silver ring onto her right index finger.
Instantly, Michaela felt immeasurably better, as though there had been nothing to dread in the first place. The cool surface of the inner portion of the ring secured itself comfortably around the base of her finger, resting just above her knuckle like a soft, yet cool hug.
Even as the room began to shake, the walls began to give way, and the subterranean silo started to collapse in on itself, Michaela remained in place smiling at the feeling of liberation that seemed to come from the majesty of this new ring...her ring.
It was only once the small stone pillar in front of her was obliterated by a large chunk of the rock wall that Michaela finally came out of her zombified state and pleasantly looked up, just in time to see a piece of stone, the size of a microwave, plummeting towards her.
* * *
Michaela jolted awake, to find herself sitting on the front pew of the empty chapel with her 'F*ck it All' playlist blaring out of the headphones that she promptly yanked from her ears.
Whipping back and forth to regain her bearings, Michaela felt as wild-eyed and frantic as she had when her Abuela had made her dissipating exit through the bedroom wall when, all of the sudden, the sound of someone else's voice made her jump.
From the side door of the chapel, Michaela's Father's inquired, "You ready to go, kiddo?"
Still wide-eyed and confused, Michaela whipped around, muttering, "Wh- What?"
Not skipping a beat, her Father continued, "C'mon, your Mom and I are heading home... unless, of course, you've decided to join the convent?" Not getting the laugh he was expecting, he quickly added, "You know, I think we might be able to convince Mom into an unscheduled Pizza night... You in?"
Shaking off her confusion, Michaela nodded with a half-hearted, "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."
Clearly concerned about how 'out of it' his daughter seemed, Michaela's Father lingered at the door a moment longer, before finally saying, "Okay... we'll meet you at the car."
With a quick nod of confirmation from his daughter, Adwin made his way out the door, leaving Michaela alone in the chapel once more.
Only then, did Michaela look down at her right hand and see the silver ring with the odd design sitting on her index finger, perfectly fitted, as though it had been designed for only one person... her.