Hi there… this is just a warning that the next post is pretty macabre (pictures and text), so if you don’t want to read it that is totally okay. It isn’t key to the story and you will be able to work out what is happening without it (I can also give a synopsis in the comments section of my next post for those who don’t want to read). Also if anyone who does read it feels like it is too awful and I should tone it down a bit then feel free to write that in the comments and I will try and take it into account. So… if I haven’t put you off completely now… read on…

Mella quietly walked into the garden chapel, hoping the men had gone. What greeted her there was too horrible to imagine. All around the once peaceful place of worship lay the twisted, bloodied bodies of her sisters, her friends.

She gazed around in horror, unable to avert her eyes from the awful visions surrounding her. The gentle sound of water dripping in the fountain seemed a cruel background for such a scene of violence. At the foot of the statue of their mother, the serene Mary, lay sprawled the sister named for her, naked, her blood spattered on the pure white pedestal.

It was unspeakably awful. Mella grasped her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, begging the Lord to make this go away.

“Our father who art in heaven, our father who art in heaven”, she repeated like a mantra, pressing her hands into her temples, trying to make the images go away.

But it was no use, and the blood that surrounded her slowly seeped into her vision until all she could see was distorted limbs, gaping wounds and staring dead eyes.

She clutched her fists to her chests in a panic.

“What should I do? What do I do? Please, someone, help… I don’t know what to do”.

She was answered by a blurred movement at the edge of her vision. Horrified, she turned towards it and saw the corpse at her feet stirring. She rubbed her eyes, trying to will a return to reality but when she looked again, the corpse has struggled to a sitting position.

It opened it’s cracked, bloodied lips and rasped, “But you must know what to do… you must help us. Please, please help us. The pain is too much… I cannot bear it. Please, you have to do something”.

It reached out a hand to her and strained to pull itself onto its ruined legs. Mella could hear the cracking as it rose, it’s arm extended at an odd angle, blood caked on it’s back, where a huge, open wound was visible.

It looked puzzled as it reached around to feel the gaping hole. A moan escaped from between it’s lips and it began to wail, a sound that made the bile rise in Mella’s throat. She noticed another corpse pulling itself to a sitting position and began to pray fervently and desperately, her hands over her ears to block out that dreadful sound.

“Please, Lord have pity on me”, she cried gazing upwards to the catherdral ceiling and beyond.

“Have pity on you?, she heard another voice that was almost a scream and turned to see sister Mary, “Why did he not have pity on us?”. Her voice was gaining pitch and it was such a vile noise that Mella’s whole body was shaking. “Why didn’t you help us Mella? Can’t you help us now? The pain is so bad… please… can’t you help”. She pawed at the open wound on her side.

Next to her, another corpse was trying to pray, a sight that filled Mella with terror and pity. But she could do nothing to help these women. It was already too late and this was her condemnation for hiding in the crypt while they were massacared.

Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed a small figure moving near the fountain. A wave of dread rose up in her as she realised it was little Bethany, her beloved friend. Bethany had been the closest thing to family she had ever had, her confidant and comforter. She fought the urge to be sick. Bethany sat up and looked around, surprised at the blood, failing to notice the dark red edges of the jagged wound ripping across her stomach, barely visible amongst the folds of her tunic.

She looked down and saw the state of her midsection, her face a grimace of fear and pain.

She slowly rose and stumbled towards Mella. Mella almost reached out to help her small friend but she stopped when she heard a cracked laughter coming from her. Bethany stopped in front of Mella, so close that she could smell the stench of death coming from between her bloodied lips.

“Bethany, I’m so sorry… oh my Bethany… how could they have done this to you”.

To her dismay Bethany leered widely at her, a look of horrific joy spreading across her rotting face.

“He is coming for you Mella, wait for him”, she said with a look of sheer ecstacy. “Vous êtes belle”.

“Vous êtes belle”, she repeated her laughter growing, and now all four corpses were laughing too, a shrill sound which felt like a knife piercing Mella’s skull.

They all began to chant in horrific tones, “Vous êtes belle”.

“Please, god… deliver me from this evil… help me”, she cried in utter terror.

With a start she sat up bolt upright in her bed, the sheets slick with sweat. Her heart was pounding in her throat and her mouth was dry. As the panic subsided she felt an overwhelming rush of relief. She had dreamt of that night many times before, of wandering through the chapels and coming upon body after body. But it had never been like this.

She froze in horror as she saw blood staining the white of her sheet. As she looked down another drip fell. She put her hand up to her face and felt blood pouring from her nose.