You peer around the doorway into the sanctuary, looking around the sign proclaiming it to be the church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception. Kids ordinarily didn't have much business with the old church on the hill and the nuns that ran it, but for some reason, you found watching the Sisters to be fascinating. There was something so nice about the way the robes of their habits swished as they made their way about the church, and how their black veils flowed over the back of their head and shoulders, the white lining of their wimple showing underneath across their foreheads. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you couldn't stop watching them.
The sanctuary seemed empty for once, though, so you crept in. You didn't want to seem suspicious, but in a quiet church, you didn't want to make much noise. You made your way forward, looking at the stained glass windows of the saints, watching the colored light filter through them, making beautiful patterns on the wooden floors. As you walked, your hand ran along the armrests of the pews beside you, the well-aged wood worn smooth by generations of church-goers. The whole sanctuary had a sense of peace to it; even when empty in the middle of the week, it was like there was some supernatural — or heavenly — force that soothed you, calming your otherwise-racing heart as you walked towards the altar and pulpit.
As you wandered a bit closer, a hand gently settled on your shoulder, and a quiet voice came from behind you. "