There is a church on top of the hill on the north side of town. I was never able to figure out what it was a church of, exactly. There's no crosses or other iconography, no statues or tapestries, and the sign just says "Church of Amesville."
I attended a service there once. It was held on a Thursday evening- the pews were packed, some people I recognized, most I didn't. The preacher stood in from of the altar and gave a long sermon about community and discipline, but there was no scripture quoted, no diety mentioned.
Afterwards, I realized that I couldn't remember the preacher's face.
When I was a teenager, a buddy of mine dared me to sneak in. I dared him back of course, so we found ourselves there in the dead of night, just after 1 AM. I always did have a knack for lockpicks, so getting in through the back door was easy. It was dark inside, except for a few candles.
The two of us crept inside, trying to be as quiet as we could. We'd brought a can of spraypaint with us- the plan was to tag one of the walls in the main hall and get out. We'd gotten halfway through when I spotted something in the candlelight. A figure wearing preacher's robes, kneeling motionless in front of the altar. I tapped my buddy's shoulder, and as he turned to look, his foot caught on one of the pews. The figure at the altar, seemingly hearing the sound, turned toward us.
The next thing I knew, I was standing at the back door, lockpicks in hand. It was chilly, walking down that hill alone.
