The true reason that he had entered the church in the first place was not very clear to him, only that in the end he had chosen to turn right rather than left which is what he had always done. Until this moment in his life at least.
Inside it was rather dark and smelled somewhat of stagnant water which had been dripping on the stone slabs below him for ages and even longer. The slabs were in fact markings of fine folks of days past with an inscription about this and that and some numerals etched in at the very center above the very same cross of death. There was not a single person in the whole place, although if he listened very very carefully he could discern distant steps from another day or a hidden whisper over there around the corner or something else which at the moment he could not quite make out.
Some beams of sunlight shone in through the variegated shards of glass, and there was this shadow of a flying creature which glinted from left to right with an amazing sense of grace that was unfamiliar to him. At least not until this moment in his life. There it went never to be seen again.
Because there was this slight heaviness pressing down on his shoulders, he took a seat at the very front which in his mind had been reserved for him since the day he was born. There was indeed a sense of urgency to it all and he could do nothing less the follow this feeling. In order to get there he had to cross the center aisle which meant that if he were not to anger that fire-breathing god over there behind the altar he would have to kneel and cross himself. No way that they are going to make me do that he mumbled to himself, but he did it anyway just in case.
Time passed by, perhaps an hour or even more, and it started to get dark.
After sitting there for just under two hours, just thinking and looking around and meditating a little, he knew that it was time to go. But he also knew that he would never ever be returning to this place again, at least not until this kind of moment occurred in his life once more, just once more. Virtually impossible but still ever so slightly possible nonetheless. The time would be different and he would not be exactly the same, but surely he could do something about it if he really wanted to.
He stood up and spun around slowly on his right heal. Someone could throw an awful spear at him from behind and it would pierce his chest from the back through his heart and out the front of his sternum, blood splattered all over the place. He walked backwards for fear of being struck down if he were not careful enough all the way to the rear until his back scraped against the wooden door which was not only meant to keep people out but to keep everyone inside as well.
The big iron ring was cold to the touch and he pulled it open and continued outside.
Back to the same corner where earlier he had turned right he decided to turn left again as always. The sun was starting to shine and the glint off of the church windows caught his attention as he walked by this time on the other side. And when he finally got to where he was going, though he knew perfectly well that that could never really happen not in the strictest sense of well-being which each and everyone of us is familiar with, he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.
The same hand which now smelled like rusty metal from the door ring he had touched so nervously about thirty minutes before. Sweat and rust and ancient metal which in time had all melted together.
After some thought followed by a few fleeting random memories of dreams, he decided that yes it could be possible again much earlier than allowed. Say in a year or slightly more, but definitely not longer than that. Let's make it ten months just for the heck of it, he thought to himself. And then after that say nine months, and then eight and then so on and so on. Until there was no more time inbetween, no more time left to do what he was supposed to do, a sliver and then nothing at all, in a last burst of awareness that he knew would be coming sooner than he had hoped and expected.
Better start preparing myself now, he thought to himself, and then just for good measure wrote it down on a piece of paper.
Better start preparing myself, but not just yet.