Over time, once the police were done with it, kids started using the church, the place I’d lived for the first twelve years of my life, as a make-out spot. As the original owner of the land was dead, no one could stop them from trespassing, so why not? I was half a mile in when the large building took shape. From a distance, it was as I recalled when I saw it for the first time. It was a small church building with a large cross on its steeple. That was it. A church buried deep in the woods. Nothing… sinister. What a fucking lie that was.
