I logged on.
The train’s website froze.
Then I logged on again.
Five hours. That ought to be enough.
The voices of my friends and roommates filtered through my bedroom walls.
I made my selection, bought my tickets, and went downstairs.
A half hour later, I excused myself and came back.
Refund.
Rebuy.
Seven hours this time.
Then again.
And again.
My roommate found me after I finished.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Buying tickets to Kutna Hora. It’s an hour east of Prague.”
“One train? You disappeared like three times.”
I shrugged.
“What’s there, anyway?” he said.
“Silver mines and an alchemy museum.”
Then I smiled.
“And of course, there’s the Bone Church.”
~
The sky was gray when I arrived, and a cold wind pushed through the station.
A Gothic cathedral rose in the distance—black spires and stone buttresses piercing the sky.
Perched on a hilltop, it looked bigger than Prague’s.
“The Bone Church. That must be it.”
I pulled my flannel tight across my chest and tucked my camera beneath my arm as I crossed towards it.
The cathedral rose taller, darker, heavier.
Statues towered over the pathway.
Gargoyles peered over the roof. Rain dripped from their mouths.
I stopped beneath its shadow and checked my map.
The Bone Church… was behind me.
I looked up towards the cathedral.
Then I turned around.
~
I glanced at my map again.
The Silver Mine, at least that was nearby.
I found it at once and registered for the next English-language tour.
Then I went into the gift shop while I waited.
Postcards were arranged on a rack near the door.
I picked one up.
The photographs showed narrow shafts disappearing into blackness. Timber supports crowded the walls. In some places, the passage looked barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
I put the postcard back.
At the counter, I crossed my name off the list and walked into the rain.
~
The Bone Church was nearly a mile away, back near the train station. By the time I reached it, my jeans were wet from the knees down.
This building was small—unremarkable even.
A few other travelers had gathered along the cemetery at its entrance, waiting in the morning rain. Blue jackets against tan stone.
I joined them and checked the sign.
This is it.
At last, the doors opened.
Inside, the wind disappeared.
So did the rain.
So did the daylight.
I looked up.
Bones hung from the ceiling in enormous chandeliers. Skulls covered the walls. Long rows of finger bones formed arrows pointing deeper into the chapel.
I moved closer to one of the displays.
Human hands.
Human skulls.
Human teeth.
I raised my camera.
Then lowered it.
A church made from the bones of seventy thousand people.
It took about half an hour.
~
My return tickets still poked from my pocket.
I pulled them out.
The original departure time had been crossed out in black ink. Beneath it, I’d written another.
I checked my watch. I still had several hours.
I folded the tickets back into my pocket and started walking.