Short Story “Death Ruins”

Hey Hi My Lovelies! My name is Tanya Hooper and I post anything and everything creative writing based here on this blog every Friday at 7pm! To those of you already following me – good choice. To those of you who are new to TanyaTale – welcome. Why not click the like and subscribe buttons to see more of my stuff!

As some of you may have gathered recently I have begun university. I am studying English Literature and Creative Writing and as a part of the Creative writing side of things I participate in a two hour weekly writing workshop where I get to develop some really cool ideas which I never would have reached on my own. This is one piece of work I derived in a workshop! I am not really sure how I feel about it but I figured I would put it online so if anyone has any suggestions or comments they can leave them below! So here you go …

As he approached the church ruins, a droplet of sweat trickled down Charles back. The young priest had been walking for days and finally he had reached the place he had been searching for. Standing under the lowering sun, tiered from his journey and daunted by the decision he was soon to face, Charles took a moment to take in his destination. The walls had been made from a grey stone which did not seem unique from any other church and the stained glass window was nothing but tiered. In short, these ruins were a somewhat underwhelming end to a long and tedious journey.
Charles glanced at his watch before feeling his heart sink into his stomach. He felt as if a rhino had been set upon his chest and every breath was a battle he did not wish to fight. The time was five to nine and in a matter of minutes he knew his journey would climax; Charles was not ready however he reluctantly scrambled to his feet, opening his satchel and revealing the reason for his journey.
Wrapped in a cloth, in the bottom of the satchel lay a book. Somehow, it managed to look both new and old simultaneously. Through a thin layer of dust, the title was barely visible and written in Latin or Greek. As he glanced at the book Charles cautiously set about following the instructions his predecessor had given and walked inside the ruins and counting down the final fifteen seconds.
“Three, two, one.” Charles counted down.
The sun settled into its position in the sky and illuminated the room paining the ruins in greens and reds and golds. Charles looked up at the window, the virgin Mary looking down on him with a maternal look in his eye reminding him that the time for him to decide had arrived.
It was tradition that once a decade on the 100th day of the year a priest would place the book, unopened, upon a pedal stool in the centre of the church as an offering to rouge spirits whom may hope to do the church harm. If the book were not to reach its position or were to be opened in the presence of the spirits an almighty storm was destined to begin. So, priests had passed down their responsibility, their legacy, one generation to the next and this cycle the responsibility lay on the shoulders of Charles.
His life had prepared him for this moment and to fulfil this one soul duty. But upon his journey, Charles was sure that the book had been calling to him. Begging him to open it and peer inside at the words seen by no other human. The chance to know was tempting, too tempting. But Charles faith in the church was strong and pure. Thousands of thoughts whirled frantically around his brain and as the sun began to sink, and his time drew close to an end, Charles closed his eyes and sealed his decisions.
The book landed, unopened upon it’s stool and Charles mission was over.

So I hoped that was to your liking. If you did like that please do subscribe and like and leave me a comment down below! Thanks and I’ll see you next week!


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