It was a small town, purposefully built on the highest hill on land known to man. The church was right at the centre of the town; it was known as a godless place to the locals for its dark appearance both on the outside and on the inside. It had countless arches stretching towards the sky as if in an attempt to reach the clouds. When it rains, the raindrops seem to form a river in-between the pointed arches of the church, which rapidly drops down almost like a waterfall, onto the ground, flooding the rest of the town. It rains almost every day; thus the locals have to commute on boats a lot of the time. When it is sunny, barely anyone leaves their home. Those who arrive to visit the town from the outside world, only hear whispers and see no inhabitants. Their impression is always of a mysterious and secretive nature. A lot of them get lost, and when they do…very few of them make their way out, no one knows why, not even the locals. The houses are very small in comparison to the church, but they are built in a similar fashion; pointed arches at the doorways and the windows, slightly arched roofs with what looks like swords at the tops of them. It is a strange place to be in, very strange indeed. It attracts you like a mindless magnet but at the same time wants to get rid of you. The only thing that could ever make you stay is curiosity, which sometimes is overshadowed by mere fear.