Untitled Raxworthy project

He glanced at his watch, 11:57am. It was a cool morning in Székesfehérvár, Hungary, some time in October. The infamous and treacherous winter was closing it's grasp on the small town. A few sunbeams found their way through the polluted atmosphere, brightening the prospect somewhat. The old house was dilapidated as was every house along the narrow lane. From the well-trodden, muddy road to the eaves of the houses on each side almost meeting and blocking out what light there was; the smell of rot and old-age hung heavy in the air. The building had been used up til the end of last year as a youth hostel, a cheap place for backpackers to stay a night or two. They never stayed any longer as the city was nothing like it had looked in the Lonely Planet book.

No-one asked for rent and none was paid. It was an abandoned building and the group were thankful for it as it offered them a meeting place with a low profile. The windows long ago boarded up, the only source of light inside the building was a solitary bulb on a dirty grey cable hanging from the cracked and sagging ceiling in what was once the living-room of a pretentious family home. A heavily rusted chain hung from two poles hammered into the ground on either side of the front door to the building. To enter the house it was necessary to either unlock the chain, grappling with the perished padlock, or simply to step over the chain. From the chain hung a battered piece of aluminium with the following inscription in black marker pen upon it:

PESTIS :(

Translated into English it read "plague" and was warning enough to even the simplest of passers-by so that they did not interrupt what went on inside. A swathe of old, rotting ropes hung from a winch hanging out over the street. Creaking ominously in the midday breeze, an almost completely disattached balcony pulled away from the front of the building, two stories above street level. The iron railing pulled away from the plaster exterior the house, the ropes draped over the balcony, some tied to the railing seemingly in an attempt to stop the thing crashing down to the street and crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be passing by underneath.

would not have picked up that it was in fact a song, rather just a From inside the building came a muffled song. If he hadn't recognised the tune, Raxworthymedley of voices. The words were foreign but the tune he knew too well. A Mighty Fortress is our God. The people inside sang in low tones.

to be continued...