Days had passed, and Gabriel was still resting in the infirmary. He was enjoying the comfort and the attention. He will wake up the moment he had gotten tired of it. I was telling myself that to feel ease, and to assure myself that he would wake up. But it was starting to work less.
I was alone with him, and his father was letting me which I found odd given his nature. But he kept surprising me, for there were times that he would visit Gabriel. He would stand behind the door and watched him from there. They did not have the best relationship, I assumed.
I turned the pages of the book in my hand, and started reading it, “Long ago, the land of Hemsworth was cursed by the witch they had burned at the stake. Her words withered the crops and killed the livestock, making everyone famished.”
“The people started stealing from the table of their nei
I was unmoving. Three months had passed but the convent remained to be an abyss of nothingness. Not because Hana and Gabriel were nowhere here, but because I realized that, time is still in the convent. Everything outside was constantly growing and changing, while inside, nothing was happening. We were only praying, singing, and doing chores repeatedly as time passed by. Then we would wither, and that was the end of it. I already knew this before, but I only fully realized now because of the changes that the knights of Saint Christopher endowed. I am not saying I enjoyed the challenges, the problems, and the pain, but I grew as a person because of it. I was unmoving. And I wanted the world to see me move. I raised my hand, and interrupted Siter Rene or Mother Rene as she continued with the homily which she already discussed thrice now. I n
The lake was still asleep, but its eeriness was abrupted by her waking movement. She was laid on it. Half of her body was drowning from the freezing water while the other half was slightly submerged on the shallow rim. It seemed that she had water for a cloth for her night gown was embracing her body tight, and it was failingly hiding the scar from last night. There was a scarlet colored stain on her ivory white cloth, it was directly on the flesh of the s
It was by far the coldest day of the month, but it did not meant that I could spend all day drowning on pillows and savoring a cup of old tea. I preferred that though, but I had to finish my long list of chores and it would take me quarter of the day to have all done. And besides, avocation was strictly forbidden in the convent. I slightly learned the hard way when I chose slumber over my task of feeding old Rufus and his pals. As punishment, the sisters made me sleep with
It was summer, the sun casted a wide blanket of warmth over the compound of Saint Agatha’s convent. All the stained-glass windows were open, all curtains tied, allowing the summer breeze inside our home, and posing as a frame for this picturesque view of little girls playing around the field of fresh greens and yellows. Most of the time, Mother Renata stood upfront capturing this moment, but a little accident interrupted her artisanship. &nbs
“Knights of Saint Christopher, we, the sisters of Saint Agatha, welcome you all.” The hall reverberated with Mother Renata’s voice. We were all summoned to welcome these so-called knights, even Granny, the old crook the convent adopted, was imperatively told to attend. I was at the back corner of the row, but I could still see them.
For years, Hana was the only person in the convent I called friend and considered my family, but not until the three girls. The first one was Agnes. When she arrived at the convent with her mother, she was actually ecstatic. She was from a family of nine and they could barely fill their mouths, so her parents decided that someone needed to go, and she merrily volunteered. She was willowy with long legs and her fingernails were fu
The prayer hall was a different realm from the perspicuous convent. Instead of rustic oaks and bronze detailing, the inside of the hall was filled with abounding sandalwoods and golds. But the absolute treasure within the interior was the renaissance fresco that stretched from the nave up to the high altar. The ceiling was brimming with images of little angels and doves, across a dawning sky. All of them seemed alive, and as if had an affair of their own. Some angels were playing, there were some that appeared to be dancing, and funnily, a few were soundly sleeping.
It had been a week and a half since the knights of Saint Christopher arrived. True to their words, they did help us, some of them tended the crops and the livestock, while the others cut fire woods and fixed crippled chattels in the convent. But there was still whispering in the halls for the sisters were yet unsure about their sincere intent. However, I knew that sooner, someone would mindlessly feed their sheer pretense. But not me. I had been swimming on my own cluttered thought, so after my chores, I decided to clear my head.