When I saw the sign posted on the railing, it caught me off guard. Enter at my own risk? What the hell has been going on in this little chapel that would bring about such a warning?
Maybe it was a result of not having a good sleep or of feeling like I had gotten “must poisoning” from a hotel room the night before – but that warning sent my overactive imagination reeling with ideas of what terror must’ve existed beyond the door of the little chapel.
Walking up to the closed door, I debated whether I should even open it. My imagination was racing. I just knew that I would turn the knob, gently push it open – only to come face-to-face with a deranged Pappy Yokum-type, stinking of pee and liquor and who was spoilin’ for a fight.
Imagine my surprise when I was instead greeted by little more than four tiny pews, a peaceful light and a portrait of Randy Brown.