The Cursed Story

Gomez'

t to the pitch black. Faint o

ouette of the altar above me and

me a wet, slurping noise, fol

ose. Way

ly rigid, every muscl

s eating. It was devouring the offerings left ear

g my breath tight in my chest, chanting a sil

an eternity, the slur

way until it disappeared into the dar

rom under the altar, my l

spot. A place where it co

learer. In the center stood a massive sacrificial table. Beh

e a panicked bird trapped in a cage. But then, a sliver of rationali

phet took over, this building us

sense of dread. Every single Saint statue was facing the wall, their backs turned

t hit me. They were gua

desperate courage

ng was-was afraid of the Saints' gaze

ve bulk offered a silent, stony embrace. I grabbed its

second, I felt a false sense of security, li

ehind the statue. Close. Unbearably close. My he

statue's arm

f claws gouging into the back of the stone Saint,

on, and my fingers were going numb. Sweat beaded on my forehead, stinging my

lly slipped. I plummeted, my body slamming har