Thornheart

He clutched on the strap of his leather bag. It was too late to back out and if he continued to hide, he'd be putting his life in even more danger. He knew that staying there meant risking his life. All he could do was run away. Yet, these bold decisions of fleeing away made him even weaker by the second. The cathedral's grounds were surrounded, footsteps draw nearer and nearer. The chapel echoed the rolling bellows of thunder, along with the sound of pounding against the main entrance door.  It was cold... and dark, he thought, resting his body against the pillar at the right side of the altar. He restlessly peeked behind from time to time. The thunder rolled more frequently, and the banging on the door weakened as wood started creaking broken. Gushes of wind and unforgiving raindrops and hail passed through the small crevices of the almost broken door.  The boy crawled his way to the second aisle of seats from the front, shivering of coldness. The door was now completely broken after a few more loud bangs from outside. The boy held his breath, faint whimpers escaping from his mouth from him, with tears in eyes. "Just this morning, everything was fine," he wailed in his mind, then continued, "why does it have to be this way!?" He then just decided to stop hiding away. He always knew that he would die alone, in misery. It had proven that it was to be disastrous. He stopped running. This would be the last time he is going to run away. This will be the final destination, his last battle, his last time to be defiant. The soldiers scoured the inside of the chapel, not knowing what was going to happen to them. They went closer... and closer... where things started to get real.