On July 2nd, 2024 in the small village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, Wales, the villagers awoke to a most peculiar sight. During the night, the historic parish church of St. Mary had grown legs and was spotted slowly meandering through the town square.

Witnesses report the towering structure dip-walking on stout oaken stilts, the bells in its steeple jangling with each ambling step. The old vicar himself watched, aghast from his window in the nearby rectory, as pews and pulpits swayed atop the roving chapel.

By mid-morning, after disrupting several games of bingo and scaring more than a few sheep, the wandering church finally settled itself in the local pub's courtyard, pulling its elaborate roof down to sit like a great stone cow folding its legs beneath it. There it stayed for hours as curious onlookers gathered, debating this odd ecclesiastical episode over several casks of ale.

Just when speculation had reached a fever pitch, the church let out a long groan and rose up once more, turning in the narrow lane to mosey back to its rightful place. Shaking its stone foundations, it reseated itself firmly on its usual spot as if nothing had happened at all. To this day, the people of Llanfairpwllgwyngyll recall that bizarre July morn, when for a short while their church went walking about on the Sabbath.