In a small village, one same as any other, on the door step of a humble church was the littlest bundle you'd ever see. Honest, if it wasn't for father Dihm's nightly rounds ,it was sure not to have been noticed at all. This bundle you see, was very quiet, like the grave, very silent. And in it?
There was a child, pale, cold, dead. It started up at father Dihm with eyes like dull marbles. It's expression was horrid, a tortured screaming of desperation unanswered. Father Dihm died that night. A very many people died that night.
Sister Ceria had come out of her chambers that night, as she did most nights, due to her weak constitution. She was among the older sisters who called this little church home and one of only three who boarded in the church. She mainly stayed on to take care of any "accidents" the younger children may have and to train the younger nuns on childcare. Her roommate, Allison ,was rather brash and impatient, thus father Dihm assigned her to stay at the church to help Ceria and hopefully learn as well.
Sister Ceria had ambled the churches short halls and corridors many times and it could be said no one knew quite as well as she did, not even father Dihm. She had even gotten mistaken for a lingering spirit when some of the orphans saw her navigate the church in pitch darkness. Tonight however,the halls felt foreign to her. The halls were too long, the corridors curved and the doors would groan as if she had pained them. The cold stalked her , the church had never been warm but this chill was different. It prowled around her and nipped at her toes. The cold hunted. Then it pounced.
Sister Ceria had never been a violent woman , in fact she would never even raise her hand when chastising the children. Some would say she couldn't. But this night ,in that dark hall way, she fought and howled like a beast. She would bite , scratch,claw and kick. She punched and pulled at her invisible enemy,ripping clothes and tearing flesh.
When Allison found her ,candle in hand and followed by a gaggle of scared children, there was blood and gore and piss everywhere. Celia was dead.
And though the corpse was still and cold, a sudden chill pervaded the group. A quiet settled upon them, the tickle of fear crawling up their spines. It was the fear of prey in the presence of a predator, a hungry one and it was getting closer. And closer. Closer.
Allison never felt particularly protective, in fact she hated kids. That's why she didn't hesitate to leave them behind as she ran for the doors. Their silence quickly turned to wails then howls and screeching of pure agony.
Allison survived