It was a dark and stormy night, and I had been staying at an old, abandoned church in the middle of nowhere. I had heard tales of a gang of robbers that roamed the area, and I was terrified of meeting them.
I started to hear strange noises outside, and when I peered out of the window, I saw a small group approaching the church. As they got closer, I realized they were the gangsters I had heard about – wearing long coats, with guns tucked into their belts.
I ducked back inside and hid in a corner, desperately hoping they wouldn’t find me. But it was too late – they had already seen me.
The gangsters burst through the doors and began to search the church. I could hear them calling out my name and laughing, as if they were enjoying a game.
I was shaking with fear and prayed for a miracle. Suddenly, an idea struck me – I grabbed an old crucifix from the wall and held it out in front of me, hoping it would protect me from harm.
The gangsters stopped in their tracks and looked around, not sure what to do. Then one of them stepped forward, took the crucifix from me, and bowed his head. He said something in a language I didn’t understand, then stepped back and motioned for the others to leave.
They all filed out, leaving me alone and relieved. As I watched them disappear into the night, I realized that my fear of strangers had been replaced by a newfound respect for them.