DECISIONS- FB-FWG 300 word short story based on the photo below. Psychological thriller- no triggers.

The display in front of the Hallowed Trepidation Tabernacle read non-demoninational, A production mistake I assumed, someone forgot to spell check. The church bells rang high above the structure, the pure steeple gave off an eerie vibe as it pressed against the dark storm clouds that engulfed the sky. I slid in past the minister as he shook the hands of many parishioners walking up the steps and in between the behemoth, sculpted columns covered in rare, freckled gargoyles.

I sat in the back row with my head down as if I remained steadfast in prayer. They sent around the cup, though I didn’t recognize the scripture nor the substance in the tiny plastic that resembled a shot glass. I refused it, thinking maybe later. I would most likely need a drink after this. The bread looked more like green eggs and ham than saltless crackers. I leaned back against my seat so it could pass over me. I had no money to give when the golden plate made its way around. It was a no go on all three for me. 

I slightly turned and watched the men in black suits carry the collection into a nearby room, close to the exit, an easy snatch and grab. I nodded and smiled as they walked back to their pews. I got up and headed to the restroom, dipping unnoticed into the office. I thought they would’ve had more sense than to leave the cash out in the open. I stuffed my pockets and turned to leave. I was startled by the fulfillment of the entry way with expressionless faces, women, and men alike – no kids. I ran taking the first left up a set of unlit steps. At the top, I had a choice, a white metal sliding door or a huge wooden one. I chose the one that appeared the strongest. They followed me but at a slow speed, chanting, I couldn’t interpret their words. I hid behind the massive framework, realizing I was in a loft. A woman in all white carrying a lit candle breathed upon the flame, it shot in my direction giving way to my refuge. She kneeled down beside me, exclaiming the group had been awaiting my arrival. She dipped her finger in wax, drew a crucifix on my forehead and called me a sacrificial serpent. I was sure they had the wrong person.