Anne Brisden

The car crash had shook me up enough to make me know I was a coward.

I rounded a bend and came to a crossroads.

There were no signs to tell me which way was which, and I still had no idea where I was.

Heading straight on seemed as good a choice as any.

I crossed the road, dragging my bad foot with me.

After a while I spotted a white wooden cross and the pitched roof of a church through some trees.

It was a small wooden building, resting in a dry riverbed off the road.

The arched front door was open.

I made for it.

The doorway was draped with a deep red velvet curtain.

I pulled it to one side and went in.

There were people on either side of the room, some sitting behind fold-up tables with colourful card decks laid out, others, mostly old girls, sitting opposite empty chairs with heads bowed and eyes closed.

A few of them turned and looked at me as I walked in, splattered in mud and blood and carrying the shotgun, but no one seemed disturbed by the intrusion.

They just went back to whatever it was they were doing.

A woman at one of the tables kept looking at me.

She was an older one, but beautiful nonetheless, with thick golden curls and the fullest lips I'd ever seen.

She began laying out her cards, and for some reason, I was drawn across the room to her.

What's this place?

Really?

How long you been around here?