• On All Hallows Eve, in the year 1666, came a wretched grumbling from the bowels of hell. Unfortunately, for those above, they are oblivious to the grim, gruesome fate that is to befall them.

    It is a crisp autumn morn in the small town of Featherstone, West Yorkshire, England, I am walking on the footpath on my way to University when I notice a beautiful horse drawn carriage with an elderly nun inside. The carriage is arriving at St. Aubrey's Parish, the smallest and oldest parish in town. The beautiful, ivy veiled chapel is nestled between the quaint storefronts that make up our quiet little town. As I continue on the footpath I observe the town coming alive. The cobblestone roads are abuzz with merchants opening up shop and some already selling their sweets and other wares as the town's patrons bustle about in preparation for tonight's All Hallows Eve celebration.

    I pause to take to take a rest and watch from afar as the nun heedfully exits the carriage and saunters up the decaying stone stairway to the large wooden entryway of the chapel. She is a small, birdlike, decrepit woman. There to greet her at the doorway is Father Clive. He is a tall, pale, elderly man with beady black eyes and greying hair. He hastily pulls her inside scanning his surroundings suspiciously as if trying to hide something. This peaked my curiosity so I began to follow.

    I cautiously make my way across the road, ducking and dodging passerby in an effort not to bring any unwanted attention to myself and my investigation. As I cross the threshold of the chapel I am awestruck, having never been inside I am stunned by the beauty within. The pews are a deep burnt reddish color made of beautiful aged mahogany wood, they are lining the chapel in three neat rows of six. At the front of the chapel the altar sits atop the dais raised above the pews with an elegant wooden crucifix with golden embellishments centered on the stone wall directly behind. The altar itself is made of ravishing marble that glistens in the sunlight. There are intricate stained glass windows lining the walls, letting in various vibrant hues of light. Off to my right I notice a small wooden door adjacent to the entrance. The door is slightly ajar so I go to investigate. It is there I overhear Father Clive and the nun speaking.

    "Sister Augustine, we must hurry to find a scholar before midnight."

    "But Father Clive, where are we to find one suited for our sacrificial ritual?"

    Frightened, I turn to run, I barely take two steps when my feet slip from beneath me on the worn stone floor, my foot barely tapping the door as I collapse.

    "Who goes there?" hisses Sister Augustine.

    Frozen in fear, I hold my breath hoping she doesn't hear me, or worse, see me.

    She hisses again "Who goes there?!"

    I can't hold my breath any longer and gasp for air letting out an immense sigh. Father Clive rushes out of the door turning only to see me scrambling toward the entrance. My hand is only centimeters from the door handle when before I know it, Father Clive has me in his grip, hastily dragging me by the collar of my vest into the room from which he came.

    "You boy! What are you doing eavesdropping and dawdling about my chapel?!"

    "I.. I'm sorry Father! I was only curious!"

    I whimper with fear, my heart racing as I play out scenarios in my head of what is to come.

    "Haven't you ever heard the expression, curiosity killed the cat?!"

    "Y..yes, Father, I have, I'm sorry!"

    I tremble with trepidation praying he'll let me go.

    "Sister, what have you of this young man? He must be fit. He seems to be quite scholarly. Just look at the patch on his vest!"

    Sister Augustine walks over to me and takes a look at my University patch.

    "Son, is this true? Are you indeed a scholar?"

    "Yes, no! Wait! No I'm not!" I realize now, the position I've put myself in.

    "Ah but you are!" she cackles, as a malevolent grin sets across her face. "This is most excellent."

    "You won’t get away with this! I won’t let you!" I scream as I try to break free from Father Clive's grasp but his grip only tightens the more I struggle, ensuring I won't escape.

    "You're not going anywhere boy!"

    Father Clive quickly yanks me out of the sacristy into the sanctuary and begins dragging me in between two rows of pews toward the altar to commence the sacrificial ritual. I thrash my arms and legs, raging with terror. I can't seem to break free. As we draw closer to the altar, I see Sister Augustine slowly make her way to the celebrant chair atop the dais. As she sits down, her eyes close as she enters a profound trance. At that exact moment, Father Clive, still having me in his grasp, begins chanting an incantation or conjuration of some sort.

    "Dark spirits rise above! Take thine sacrifice, take him smite. Break him, scorn him, in the night. From the mighty depths of hell, cast your darkness on his shell!”

    I shriek for help as the chapel begins to quiver and quake. Sister Augustine and the celebrant chair rise from the dais, floating above Father Clive and I, stopping just above the altar in front of the crucifix. I stare in horror as her eyes smolder a deep crimson red, hoping she doesn’t catch my gaze. The stained glass windows lining the walls begin fracturing and the marble altar begins crumbling as the chapel shakes more violently with each passing moment. Once again I try to break free. Father Clive seizes me by my neck in an attempt to asphyxiate me. I yank his hands away from my neck breaking free from his grasp and desperately gulp for air.

    "I won’t let you do this!"

    Out of the corner of my eye I can see the large wooden crucifix behind the altar swaying violently. Father Clive lunges toward me in an attempt to grab me yet again. I draw back my arm and proceed to smite him forcibly so he can't take hold of me. This barely phases him, yet he wasn't able to grab me. He repeats his incantation.

    "Dark spirits rise above! Take thine sacrifice, take him smite. Break him, scorn him, in the night. From the mighty depths of hell, cast your darkness on his shell!”

    At that moment, the crucifix flies off the wall hurling toward me. I push Father Clive in front of me using him as a shield. The crucifix stabs his back crushing his spine and rib cage, it then pierces his heart and rips through his chest. I spring back collapsing on the stone floor, the bloody tip of the crucifix falling just short of my chest. As I look up, Sister Augustine and the celebrant chair come crashing to the ground striking the back of her head violently against the ruins of the once beautiful marble altar. With blood gushing out of her head and eyes still a deep crimson red, she turns to look at me and whispers..

    "I'll see you next year scholar."

    I turn and move toward Father Clive, a now bloody lifeless mass on the floor, and break off a piece of the crucifix knowing what has to be done. I race to Sister Augustine's side firmly and deliberately raising the piece of the crucifix over my head with both of my arms trembling as I stand over the elderly nun. I gather my strength and whisper back..

    "There won’t be a next year."

    I forcefully drive the piece of the crucifix through her chest and deep into her heart. As I let go and step back I watch as a powerful, ominous vortex whirls out of her chest. She takes her last breath as the vortex consumes her along with Father Clive and the crucifix, dragging them both into the deep abyss of the underworld, the vortex disappearing behind them. It wasn't long before, the violent quaking of the chapel gently subsides. I then slowly walk toward the large wooden entryway at the rear of the chapel looking back at the remnants of the chaos that had just ensued. Although covered in blood, sweat, and debris, I step outside brushing off my pants and breathe a sigh of relief. None of the townspeople seem to be aware of what happened inside of St. Aubrey's Parish, no one was harmed and all of the night's festivities are just beginning. This will be one unforgettable All Hallows Eve.