Coming out from the forest we could see her standing there. Majestic and virtuous between pine trees and dim rays of light cutting through the thick foliage. The sun beams painted her old façade with light and revealed a dusty and cracked face. She sighed as the wind passed through her stale walls, the wooden paneling creaking as detritus and dust was blown off her thick skin. She sounded old and wise. And surely she was. She had been around for 800 years. Standing tall and proud on the very spot we were standing with her now.
Giving her old age, she still seemed coy and sinless like a blushing bride in her best appurtenances. Skirt upon skirt gave her a characteristic and feminine shape, while exquisite brass work and artistic carvings draped her like expensive jewelry and fine lace. Spires and detailed dragonheads crested her proud regal anatomy, and stretched their necks towards the sky.
I wrapped a hand around the cold doorknob. It was stuck. Maybe she wouldn’t let us in to her warm and dark bosom after all. We gave it a hard tug and with a painful cry she let go. Cobwebs inside were torn into pieces. Some still hanging on to the dry wooden walls of her inside, some clinging onto the opened door like a wound just opened.
I treaded gently through this sacred opening and found my way through her layers. Her insides smelling like subtle rot and decomposition. We stood in the middle of her great cavity. She wrapped us with darkness. Her cracks and wrinkles were even more visible inside, as sharp streaks of light cut dramatically through the ethereal space. I had always been bubbly and outgoing, but she demanded quietness and introversion. Her presence was substantial, and I had no choice but to obey her.