It's as he emerges from the canal into the bay that he first encounters the Living Church.
The cliff walls give way on either side and he finds himself gliding on the ice into a widening bay that fades into mist. And off in the distance, barely veiled by the churning waves of fog, he sees an immense shape moving slowly along through the waters of the sea, just beyond the ice's precarious edge.
Arriving near at a spot closer to the water, he can now see that this is a giant vessel of stone, moving ponderously through the waves. Giant spires point to the sky, rimmed by bartizans, porticos and bridges between towering stained glass windows. The entire structure emits that strange groaning sound he'd heard back in the canal.
He cups his hands to his sides and yells: "Hello!!!!"
The building responds. Yes...
He falls back in surprise a bit, then regains his balance. After a moment he manages to find his voice. "Who are you?"
From some amongst the vast drifting architecture he senses there to be a pair of eyes, pondering him with a depth that moves past him and back up the canal, to the mountains and beyond. The voice rumbles clear and true.
I am the Living Church...
This is the Second Chapter of Act Two of my ongoing #freewrite serial story. You can read Chapter One here.
Here is Chapter Three.
Written in five minutes from the writing prompt, "Church" as part of the #freewrite exercise. Image is also by me. You can view the prompt here and check out the other entries; reading them is like entering into a sacred shrine of each writer's soul. Thanks to @mariannewest for creating and running this daily ritual of religious regularity.
Writing and images by Greg McCann, the author of this post and owner of this Steemit Channel. To view more of my work, please visit www.fireawaymarmot.com.