She walked up the overgrown and puddle ridden path holding a homespun bouquet of flowers. Thankfully, The Column didn’t frequent the church nor its surrounding areas, infact their presence in this clearing was almost non-existent. Amelia liked to think the church was some sort of magical sanctuary allowing her to indulge in some ethereal escapism. The graves were scattered indiscriminately through the overgrown grass, crumbling but and jutted out in random directions like a giant’s rotting teeth. She didn’t remember there being so many the last time she visited.