The rain was deafening. I looked around in the rain, desperately seeking shelter, I was drowning here. The problem was, I wasn't in the best part of town, and in fact, it was more than a little sketchy. I know it's my territory, but even I had to be careful. At least I felt like I was the only one here on such a horrible night. The rain was so heavy that I couldn't hear if anyone tried to approach me. I also couldn't see very far with the rain being so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they had been broken a long time ago. The only place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I rushed. Finally, I arrived, undisturbed except by the rain, in front of the heavy, dilapidated doors of the church. I pushed the door open and it opened obediently, then I slipped inside, closing it surreptitiously behind me. No need to alert others of my presence. Turning my shoulder, my gaze was fixed on the magnificence of the architecture. It never fails to move me. My eyes start by looking at the ceiling, then they travel from side to side and finally along the walls, drinking in the beauty of the stained glass windows glinting in the candlelight, finally settling on the altar . I slipped into the nearest pew intending to say a few prayers when I noticed him. His eyes were fixed on me. I looked at the ground, but it was too late, because I already knew he wasn't one of the priests, his clothes were all wrong and his face! It seemed lifeless. I felt so heavy. My eyes wouldn't obey me. Neither do my legs. Too late, I realized the danger! Hypnotized, I fell asleep. Panting in terror, I woke up and stood up suddenly. He was gone, but where, how long had I been here and... middle of paper... everywhere! The cross above the altar had fallen and was half submerged in blood and the statues had blood running down their faces as if they had been injured. Bumps and clots were all over me, even inside my clothes and shoes. The smell of death was everywhere. I had never seen or felt such things before. Then I saw it. In the middle of the church, half flooded with blood, he lay. I struggled to get up and moved forward with great difficulty in the clotting blood. It was definitely him and he had a weak pulse. I dragged him outside by the arm and screamed. The gargoyles that adorned the facade of the church looked at me. At this point I saw movement again out of the corner of my eye, but was startled by the sound of the horn announcing a bombardment. Then I noticed them. But this time all I could do was scream inside.