The headlights went out with an electrical hum and a flicker; then, there was nothing at all.

“We’re done for!” I joked, looking towards my friend in the darkness. She stopped the car. The blue glow from the dashboard illuminated the edges of her face, but darkness blanketed us from all sides. This part of town was a coffin. It was a normal neighborhood, but always silent and dark come dusk. No cars creeped around and no streetlights flickered on, something to do with bad electricity.

“I don’t remember how to get out of here,” she gradually admitted. I could barely hear her over the music she was blasting.

I offered up a shrug, although I doubted she could see it. Directions were something engrained in me since I was born, just as it is for most kids who grow in small towns; at this point, I could very well do it blind.

“Go slow; I’ll tell you when to take a right.”

I never realized just how dark it got come midnight here. The clouds must’ve been acting up because there was so little light coming from above that there was no way to tell where the horizon ended and the sky began.

“Now?” she asked, hopeful.

“No, another hundred feet,” I mused, “Call it my hillbilly intuition.”

Another hundred feet passed, and I gave a little mumble. Ahead would be that weird church that people always whispered urban legends about, and alas, it’s outline appeared; a small white, glowing sign stood at its front, casting an odd glow onto its rotting surface. The sign was the type that was planted outside of schools and fast food places, so it looked wildly out of place besides the building, if I could even call it that.

“See?” I laughed, “Smallest church in all of Indiana, right there to behold!”

The building creaked and moaned as I mentioned its name in that way old buildings tend to do at—I checked the time on my phone, only to see it had died. I must’ve forgotten to charge it. I glanced at the time that the car showed, only to see eight-thirteen. We had left around nine; I never noticed how off it was. I gave a shrug; it was probably around midnight.

Now that I looked closer, I saw that the sign was talking about meeting times. I gave a half-hearted laugh, “It’s stupid to hold youth group at nine.”

She chuckled, a bit relaxed by the sign’s glow, “I went to youth group for six years and never learned a thing, you know.”

I gave a huff. “Continue straight for a bit, take a right, and then a left. We’ll be back home before your dad even notices we’re gone.”

We drove on and she turned the music up once again, only for it to start going in and out, imbedded with thick pops and crackles like a cheap vinyl, until it whirred out entirely. The silence grew as intense as the darkness around us.

“Dude,” I sighed, “I told you this place was a radio deadzone.”

The blue glow lit up her tired eyes. “I’m playing a CD. Car’s just acting up.”

I shook my head and looked out into the blackness. I couldn’t help but turn back to the glowing dashboard and begin talking to fill the quiet.

“You, uh, turn right now.”

Once we passed the corner, she hit the breaks and sent us both flying, seatbelts catching us in all their intended glory—

“Maya, What the f—“

I went silent as I saw what laid ahead of us.

“Is that,” I began, trailing off into the deafening silence.

A white glow illuminated the rickety church; the sign announced meeting times for tomorrow’s youth group.

“There’s more than one?” she breathed out.

I only gave a small hum. That must’ve been it. Two churches make for a religious small town. That was it, alright.

“Just keep on going straight,” I forced out. We continued in a pained silence and I eventually told her to go right. The car rolled to a halt. It was there again. The same sign cast its glow, frantically announcing a youth group meeting for ten.

“Must’ve given you bad directions,” I choked out. “Let’s go left, this time.”

After a while, we passed the church again; this time, we didn’t stop. We didn’t say anything at all; all I knew was that this youth group meeting was for eleven, not ten, and definitely not nine.

My friends frantic breathing joined my racing pulse; we must’ve tried acid or something. I had never even wanted to try acid—did someone spike something I ate?

“Left?” she asked; I could hear her swallowing, now. I hummed.

It appeared again. My lungs felt heavy and I found myself on the verge of vomiting, swallowing endlessly to keep my food down. I leaned in close to read the time of the next youth group meeting when—

Neither of us spoke as a silhouette moved in front of the glow. Long, boney fingers reached out gingerly towards the blocky black letters, peeling them away, one by one. It was the last thing I saw before the car was roaring on the pavement, racing away.

We stopped the car after heading straight into darkness, having passed one, then two more churches. I hadn’t looked to see what stood at the signs, but I heard its careful footsteps and hushed, deep exhales. The car now sat painfully close to the church, but another was waiting for us, that I was sure.

“We lock the car, turn it off, and wait until morning,” I whispered.

My friend gave a quivering breath, and with a final glance, she pulled out her car keys, plunging us into absolute darkness.