A small, young bird flutters through the dusty bell room. As it sweeps past the smaller bells, the small gusts of wind from its wings leave quiet, eerie rings, a reminder of the grand ceremonies once having taken place there. The bellringer, long deceased, left his weary soul haunting the dark, cracked, ancient walls. The long-abandoned eastern orthodox church stands tall and grand, its walls weaved with sharp, glass windows. The once pigmented, colourful, stained glass lies faded and shattered. Burned-out candles lie scattered on the floor. Spirits of past worshippers live in the rows of pews; their screams for release echo in the tall, empty halls. The keys of the organ in the back of the chapel have not been touched in centuries. A filthy layer of dust is settled on top and fills the crevices, rendering the mechanism unplayable. No living soul remembers this place nonvacant.