Church of the damned
Roseanna Paul, 33, from Cromer, Norfolk
The second I stepped into the abandoned ancient church, I shuddered. But it wasn’t the cold winter air sending a chill through me. It was the heavy, menacing atmosphere, as if someone – or something – was lying in wait.
Trying to put my unease to one side, I wandered through the building, taking in the wooden pews lining the aisle, the pulpit where vicars had once addressed their congregations.
Although the church should have been a calm, peaceful place, I just couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched by unfriendly eyes.
A few days
