The Old Tabernacle

What were our chances of finding an unlocked door? We tried the first one: locked. Second: locked. Third:

            Open.

We pulled the heavy door toward us and breathlessly walked in, leaving the dark winter night behind us.

The wood smelt historic and it moaned with age beneath our steps. It was dark and empty; every sound we made bounced through the tabernacle.

 

We tip toed up the stairwell, passing by thick glass windows that only allowed in a soft amber light from the street lamps outside.

 
Emerging onto the balcony, we took a seat up front in a pew overlooking the absent audience below and the naked stage with only a lone grand piano. I could imagine the echoes of music and lights and candles that now seemed so distant.