Frigida

You’ve heard the rumors. How could you not? Everyone talks about it. About the old, abandoned church on the outskirts—the "Chapel of the Holy Comforter."

They spoke of a man named Igor, who went there intending to die, but returned with such a thirst for life that many would envy him. Of Tolka, the local madman, who seemed to gain sight after that night—becoming educated, respected, a writer of books. And of the gang of teenagers who vanished there once. No one knows where the truth ends and the tall tales begin, but it is foolish to deny the facts.

On the night between February 28th and 29th, something happens there.

The decision didn't come suddenly. Perhaps to unburden yourself. Perhaps to test it. Or perhaps for a reason of your own, private and unknown to all. Your motivation is strong. Your intentions are clear. You have gathered your things. You have set off.

But the closer you drew, the more your tongue grew heavy. It was as if that same chill, the kind you only feel before something inevitable, was catching in your throat. You dismissed it as fear.

The church met you with silence. A viscous silence. The kind that comes when you turn off your phone in the middle of the night and suddenly hear the blood humming in your ears. When your own breathing feels foreign.

The doors were no longer on their hinges. You entered. The click of your shoes against the stone cut through the silence—sounding far too wrong for a place like this.

The confessional was easy to find. It looked far better than anything else, as if it existed separately from the church itself. A kneeler with indentations for your knees. The lattice that should have separated you from the priest was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was never there to begin with—who can say.

You swallowed hard. You stood opposite.

You could have turned around and left. No one would have known. No one would have judged you. But you did not leave.

— Sit down... The conversation may weary you... — a woman's voice drifted from behind the curtain.

And now, she waited for your first word.