On Monday, my Mom and I decided to do some geocaching while my brother was doing driver's ed. It started out just like it always does. I drove us through the countryside, down this paved road and that gravel road until we were within a few hundred feet of the cache. At that point, I pulled over and got out to take pictures while my Mom fiddled with the GPS.
We found the cache, signed the log, and traded a marble for a little army man. I started heading for the van when I realized that the church was practically begging to have its picture taken. That's when everything went wrong...
My Mom said, "Did you try the door?" And I said, "No! It's locked. Why would it be unlocked? We can't go in there." She said, "Try it." So, I put my hand on the knob and continued telling her that it was not going to open, when all of sudden, it did. No sooner did the door open, than I quickly slammed it shut and started heading for the van as quickly as I could.
At the sight of an open door, my Mom started making her way from the van to the church. The next thing I knew, we were standing in the vestibule signing the guest book. Because when you
She started wandering around the church and telling me to take pictures of this and that. I'm just WAITING for some old lady to pop out from nowhere and say in the creepiest voice possible, "Can I heellllllp you?" In short, I'm basically freaking myself out while my Mom is celebrating this little piece of history and our own private tour.
She laughed at me and said, "What?!?!? Are you afraid?"
Yes, yes, I was. That's the stuff horror movies are made of. And I'm not 100% sure that we weren't trespassing. But...Like any good blogger, I further incriminate myself by posting about it.
The church was beautiful. The pictures on the wall were fun to look at. Slamming the basement door and getting out of there was golden. I visited a creepy old church and lived to tell about it.