Church in the Woods

A friend and I used to explore wooded areas near the railway tracks, build small shelters, fish from bridges, and camp away from the paths. Years later, we decided to repeat one of those trips for old times’ sake. We were dropped near our old starting point, chose a different direction, and walked along the tracks until evening.

Before setting up camp in a thick stand of trees, we scouted the area to make sure we were not near anyone’s home. From the top of a small hill, we noticed an old building hidden among the trees. We assumed it was a storage shed, but when we moved closer, we realized it was an abandoned church.

The wooden boards were dark with age and decay. The windows were broken, the doors were missing, and a weathered cross still stood above the building. Through the openings we could see rows of pews and a raised platform. There were no roads, paths, footprints, or other signs that anyone visited the place.

We returned to our campsite, put a hill between ourselves and the church, and settled into our hammocks. After dark, we heard what sounded like people singing from the direction of the building. We climbed the hill quietly and saw flickering light inside the church. It appeared to come from candles, and the singing sounded like religious music in a language we could not understand.

We stayed far away and watched. The singing stopped, and a deep male voice began chanting. The voice seemed to speak in another language. After each phrase, several voices answered in song. The group eventually produced a long, sustained wail that grew louder and more disturbing before stopping abruptly.

Then my friend saw figures leaving the church. They walked through the open doorway in a single file while holding hands. Some carried flashlights. They began singing again, and the lights started moving toward our hill.

We ran back to the campsite, grabbed our belongings, and sprinted to the railway tracks. The lights followed down the hill, moving erratically as if the people carrying them were shaking their flashlights. We ran and walked in bursts until the lights disappeared.

We reached a road and followed it to a public gas station, where we called for a ride. Our friends later suggested that the group might have been harmless people playing a prank, but the voices had not sounded like children. I still do not know who was using the abandoned church or why they came out singing and carrying lights toward our camp. I only know that leaving immediately was the right decision.