Jeredynn swung round as the rotten wood swung slowly back and forth on it's orange hinges, he put it down to the wind and turned back round. Peering upwards he could make out the outline of a cross behind the bleak shadow of the altar, Jeredynn scoffed, he'd never believed in religion, neither did his parents,
"Waste of time!" His dad would exclaim whenever "concerned" clergymen rapped upon their door, shoveling drivel about being worried at the state of the family's souls, The boy smirked, after all the protesting his Dad did, it turns out God won, the man was now buried amongst god's "flock".
Jeredynn rose from the oak-wood pew, thrusting one hand in his pocket he turned toward the door, swiveling his head over his shoulder he thrust out his tongue at "God's" son and dashed through the old door like a mischievous schoolboy.