.

When she pushed the tall and heavy wooden door open, the first thing that she noticed was the aerial organ music coming from above her head.

She hesitated for a moment.

There was not a soul in sight, not a single believer sitting in one of the dozens of benches neatly aligned in the sober yet stunning Domkirke.

She wondered why she was standing there. Come to think of it, visiting Viborg alltogether wasn’t clearly in her plans, if she had planned any of this trip. A friend had once mentionned that his family was coming from the little town, and it seemed good enough a reason to make a short stop there.

She finally started walking, following the closest aisle, heading to an alcove at the other end of the old church. She peeked over her shoulder to see the organ player not minding her harmless invasion.

When she had gotten out of the train, she very well could have looked for the closest wi-fi Hot Spot, to research the must-sees of Viborg. It would have made sense. With only about twenty four hours to spend, who would have trusted good luck as a guide? But she had swung her heavy bag on her back, and decided to wander along the streets, feeling that her feet would lead her where she needed to be.

Now in the alcove, she was focusing on the tall ancient stained-glass windows, when she noticed a staircase leading to a crypt. The word ”crypt” felt both creepy and intriguing, and she felt compelled to check it out.

She walked down the stairs to find a dusty, not-so-creepy at all room. The organ music still echoed nicely, in the the shadows-filled crypt.

Surprisingly, a pile of grimoire-looking books were lying on a table. Flipping through the pages, she read many notes from travelers from all around the world. She wasn’t very religious herself, but the connexion she felt reading these strangers’ words gave her the impression she had never been closer to God.

She would have to thank that friend for his family anecdote.

Sitting in a corner of the crypt, she pulled a pen out of her purse, and picked a random notebook to immortalize her thoughts of the moment. She wrote her thoughts about her journey, opening her heart like never before.

A message in a bottle.

Never underestimate your instinct, she thought.

She slowly walked out of the Domkirke, hoping her letter would inspire others to leave a little piece of their life in the old church.

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Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge