Member-only story
Shriek (in secunda parte)
arcebant aegram
“Dolores?
Sister Dolores?!
Sister Bettina rapped the cedar door with soft cork handle of her cane. “Awaken . . . Sister, get up!”
The plump young novitiate awakened in a start. Exhausted from the fitful labor of elusive slumber, she fumbled for her leather clogs in the pre-dawn chill. One terror alone was worse than the ones visited upon her during her brief slumber — that punishment Mother Superior would fashion (specifically to suit her) should Dolores arrive once again late for lauds.
Oh dear, oh dear!
The faint peal of the abbey bell rang out, somewhat muted by distance and deluge. At the great clap of thunder that followed, Dolores launched upright onto her feet. She drew in a deep, not-quite-calming breath, fixed her humble garments, and bustled down the corridor into the pitch black of the hour. She would have to do without the benefit of candlelight shared by her more timely sisters.
Why, oh why I can’t I settle into the routine in this place? Always late, I seem to be. Oh, oh.
Her older brother had thought membership in the religious order would be just the thing to calm her jangled nerves and bring a bit of stability to her life. Nothing was ever quite the same after the horrific death…
