December 11, 2024

The Nunnery
by Nathan Perrin

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You love coming to ancient places like this. It's what you're getting your doctorate in, after all. Catholic Monasticism. Contemplation, solitude. You love the silences that come along with mystic prayers and time spent reading. You're more than excited to go to a nunnery on a small island off the coast of Ireland, like the ones you read about as a little girl.

As the car pulls alongside the nunnery, you get out and are greeted by two Sisters.

"Hello, Sisters," you smile. "I'm Alyssa, with the university."

"Yes, of course, of course," says one of the Sisters. "Let's take your bags up to your room. I'm Sister Monica."

You smile again. You can't wait for the spiritual journey ahead of you. 

The cab driver shoots you a grin as he stares at you like a piece of meat as you take your bags out.

"You single, miss?" he asks.

"Not interested," you say.

"Shame," he laughs. 

You dismiss it, smile, and nod.
                                                                           ***

You sit in silence with the nuns eating dinner. Chicken with rice. Simple. You like the slow pace around here. 

A sister comes in with a shovel and bucket.

"Doing some gardening?" you ask.

She looks at you for a few seconds, smiles, and says, "Ah, yes. Just a bit of touchups around the island. Always needed."

You offer your hand, "I'm Alyssa."

"Sister James," the Sister shakes it back.

                                                                           ***

You wake up in the middle of the night to a faint monotone sound. It's coming from the sea. 

As you open the blinds, you hear scuffling in the room next to you. You stare out and see the moon's reflection on the sea again. Same monotone sound. 

In the distance, you think you hear screams - but they're too short and abrupt. You're not used to nature. You grew up in London and are used to busyness, noise. In the stillness and quiet, you are not sure what's normal and natural and what's not. Come to think of it, you're not sure if you can remember a single still moment in your life.

You look just below you and notice the cemetery. It gives you chills, as if you shouldn't be seeing it. You close the blinds and try to sleep again.

                                                                           ***

You dream of your first night in an orphanage. It was also Catholic.

After watching your parents get shot in the street, all the fear and dread and shock hit you at once. You lie in bed and pray to God to take care of you because no one else seemingly will.

You're sixteen years old and you begin to notice men staring at you constantly. You wear loose clothing but it doesn't stop them. You don't ever feel safe. 

                                                                           ***

In the morning, Sister James walks back in with a shovel and dirt on her cassock. 

"Mornin' Alyssa!" she says cheerfully.

"More work in the garden?" you ask.

"Aye, 'tis a beautiful mornin' for it." 

"I would love to see you go through your daily routines and see what new things I notice."

"Aye, aye. The Lord's certainly grateful you're out here."

                                                                           ***

You turn on the voice recorder during the mass. 

The priest makes eye contact with you, smiles, and keeps chanting in Latin. 

You do the usual crosses and Catholic aerobics. 

Sister Monica comes into the sanctuary. One passes you a note and sits down.

You open it up and read it.
Isaiah 34:2-3:

"He will totally destroy them, he will give them over to slaughter. Their slain will be thrown out, their dead bodies will stink; the mountains will be soaked with their blood."

                                                                           ***

You try to remain objective as a researcher, not attached. You pretend there isn't any emotional value to the note that was passed to you hours ago. Yet, as you sit at dinner you can't help but notice that there is a tensity in the air.

"When was this convent established?" you ask.

"Mid-1500s," Sister James says. "Yes, 'twas a safe house for women on the run and all."

"The maids did good in helping them get here," Sister Monica nods.

"The maids?" you ask.

Silence.

"The maids, you know… they helped them cross the sea. All kinds of help. They were a group of women who made sure we were protected."

"Oh," you say. "Interesting."

In the distance, there is a scream. 

You put down your fork and ask, "Did you hear that?"

"Aye," Sister James nods. "It's the wind is all. Nothin' to worry 'bout here."

"We hear that all the time," Sister Monica cuts into her steak.

You shake your head. This place is weird. In two days, you will leave and all be well. That's what you have to focus on. 

"We did some readin' on you," Sister Monica smiles.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"Grew up in an orphanage, dear," Sister James says. "I worked there. I remember you."

You try to fight back tears. The brief time at that orphanage felt like hell.

"Wanted to protect you, you know?" Sister James sips her tea. "Always prayed you would come our way. I'm an orphan too, you see"

"That's very nice," you force a smile. "I'm not interested in talking about it."

"You didn't feel led here?" Sister Monica asked.

You open your mouth to speak, and then remember the dream the night before.

"In a way," you say eventually.

                                                                           ***

You try to sleep that night but can't. The orphanage dream seems to be waiting to happen again. 

 The monotone noises in the distance continue.

Cursing out loud, you get up and put on your clothes. You have to figure out what's going on out there. At least it will distract you from the dread of the potential nightmare. 
You slowly sneak out of your room and tiptoe out into the dark hallway. 

                                                                           ***

The chilly night air smells salty, and you wish you’d worn your coat outside.

You hear the monotone noise again.

Walking towards it, you stumble over something and fall.

You get back up and look down.

The cab driver from two days ago is sprawled on the lawn, mouth open, blood dripping from his eyes. 

They look like the eyes of your parents the night they were killed in front of you. 
You scream.

                                                                           ***

The other nuns put a coat around you as you try to sip tea.
"We have to call the police," you say.
"We shall do no such thing," Sister James shakes her head.
"Why?"
"It would ruin the sanctity and pact of our island."
"What?"
"There's a spiritual world in the sea, Alyssa. They keep us safe here in our convent. That cab driver must've been up to no good for him to get killed like that."
You pause, "So… when you said maids earlier…"
"Mermaids," Sister Monica interrupted.
"You expect me to believe that?" 
"We don't expect you to believe much. We're just Catholics over here recognizin' what we're seein'. We don't understand 'em, but they keep us safe and that's what matters."
"Safe from who?"
"You know who. The world. Cruel men. People who are up to no good. There's a whole spiritual world under the water. Nobody talks about it. Ghosts and demons and mermaids and the like. They don't like the way things are up here, so they take care of us."
"You don’t have to worry about it," Sister James puts her hand on you. "In the mornin', we'll do a prayer and I'll show you around."
You can't believe this is happening. You won't believe it's happening.
Try to get some distance, you tell yourself. It's best to lay low until you get out. These nuns could be plotting to kill you too if you act up. Nope, best get out in one piece. The boat won't visit until tomorrow. Just keep it all inside. 
"When you were in the orphanage," Sister James smiles, "didn't you wish that there was someone there to protect you? Well, we have that here. You don't have to worry about a thing."
You bite your tongue and nod your head. 

                                                                           ***

When the sun rises, Sister James wakes you up and grabs your hand. You sleepily walk outside with a robe on. You see the driver laying in the grass again. His skin is gray, the blood has now dried on his face. You turn your face away.
"It's not your parents, love," Sister James grabs your hand. "Look and see. This is good."
Sister James guides your hand to the cab driver's forehead. It's cold, clammy. 

You see him - no, you are him - last night. 

He walks up to the shore after seeing a woman lying on the beach. He senses concern but there is that deep, dark thought inside you - a thought you've never had before. Violent, brief fantasies.

He smiles as he walks up to the girl, asks her if she's okay.
The woman stares back at him, he notices her eyes are glowing and her hair is covering her breasts. He looks down at her lower body and sees glimmering scales and two fins.
Suddenly she doesn't seem so entrancing.
She laughs at him and opens her mouth. Her eyes, my God, her eyes. He feels his soul being sucked out from his mouth and eyes. Struggling to scream he runs back up the hill towards the nunnery.
Yes, the nuns can help. Yes, yes, yes, ye-
He falls to the ground and watches the stars in the sky dim more and more. 
The worst thing, like one of the unspeakable things he almost did to the creature on the beach, runs in front of his memory. He knows his soul somehow will be trapped with her forever. There's nothing he can do. He made his choice. 
He accepts hell.

                                                                           ***

You back away screaming.
Sister James holds you while you weep.
The world isn't like this. It can't be this cruel.
"The souls of the wicked that come here stay in that ocean," says Sister James. "Those truly bound for there never leave. The maids keep us safe, don't you understand? The maids are there to protect us. The filthy degenrates that kileld your parents? They would be there. You've got to accept this is the way it is."
You let out another sob.

                                                                           ***

You watch Sister James and Sister Monica dump the cab driver's body into a hole in the ground. They sprinkle holy water on him, say a few prayers. They then start shoveling dirt onto his body.
You are handed a shovel.
"We got to watch for one 'nother," Sister James pleads. "This is a rough world, miss."
You grab the shovel and start throwing dirt onto the cab driver's body, unable to forget either his death or the worst things he did. 
With every flashback to the cab driver's misdeeds, you find yourself disgusted at how satisfied you suddenly feel that he's no longer in the world.

                                                                           ***

A few hours later, at dinner, soup is served. 
You stare at it.
In the distance, more screams are heard. You bite your trembling lip.
You didn't even believe in hell before this. Now you have to believe in what you saw. There's no other sane explanation. 
"More bread, Alyssa?" Sister Monica hands her a basket.
You nod your head as more screams echo throughout the island and valley. 

                                                                           ***
​
You grab your bags and put them on the boat.
"Alyssa?" Sister James asks.
"Yes?" you say.
"You're always welcome back here," Sister James smiles. "Just don't judge us for what's kept us safe for centuries, missy. 'Member, they watch everything. They know."
You feel your heart drop.
Sister James hugs you, kisses you on the cheek.
"The way of things, I'm 'fraid," says Sister James. "'Truth be told I'm 'fraid that's the way it'll be 'til the good Lord comes back. Nothin' much we can do, you see."
You nod your head slowly and say, "I won't tell anyone."
"I know you won't," Sister James pats your arm. "If the world ever becomes too scary for you, know you have a place here waitin' for you."
You force a smile. You want to get off this island as fast as you can. 
The ferry captain grabs your bags.
"Gotta go," you say quickly.
"I know you do," says Sister James. "Did you get what you wanted out of this?"
You shake your head, startled by your own honesty.
"Ah," Sister James chuckles. "Well, blessings on your journey as you try to find it out there."
She turns around and walks away.
You get on the ferry and let out quiet sobs of relief.
"You okay, miss?" asks the captain.
"Yes," you say. "Just get me out of here."
The ferry starts, and you see the island become smaller and smaller in the distance.
You hear the monotone noise again, this time above the sound of the engine. 
You walk to the edge of the ferry and look down.
The water is clear as the souls of hundreds of thousands of dead are visible all at once, their mouths open and eyes terrified. The maids are torturing them, keeping them in chains. You see the cab driver. He makes one honest look at you, eyes asking you to help.
Your eyes drift to the right and you see the people who killed your parents also being tortured. It brings a sense of calm to your soul. Then something snaps you out of it - you gasp, turn around, and close your eyes.
After a few seconds, you peer over again and see nothing but blue green water.
You sit on the deck and look at the clouds in the sky briefly.
Nothing will ever be the same for you again.
But then you do some thinking. 
Is it better to try to readjust to the world after what you've experienced and seen? Is it honestly the worst thing to have guaranteed safety? Is an ancient system of justice really worse than what you have in London? London is where your parents were killed. London is where you feel all alone. London is where nowhere feels safe. 
You don't want to imagine trying to readjust. You don't want to think about how you'll be haunted for the rest of your days after what you've seen. The doctorate, the fake friends, the future you once dreamed doesn't make sense any more.
The harm done to you over the years by people who got away with it… what would happen if that hurt never happened to you again? You realize there is a greater possibility of happiness on the island than there is on the mainland. At least there, you will never get hurt. You will never have to take a risk again. There, you're not an orphan. There, you don't have to explain to friends and potential lovers why there's no one to take them home to.
You can sleep soundly at night knowing some… thing is watching over you. For the last fifteen years of your life, you couldn't say that you felt any sense of comfort in the night. But you could if you lived at the nunnery.
Can't say the same about London. Not by a long shot.
You get up and see the nunnery in the distance. 
"No," you whisper. 
You walk to the ferry captain, slip him the rest of the money from your purse, and ask him to take you back.


                                                                         💀​💀​💀


Nathan Perrin is an Anabaptist pastor in Chicagoland. He holds an MA in Quaker Studies, and is a doctoral student studying Christian Community Development at Northern Seminary. His doctorate work centers on creating a writing program for nonprofits and churches to use to help under-resourced communities process trauma. He is the author of the forthcoming novella Memories of Green Rivers, which will be released by Running Wild Press in 2025. His work has been published in the Dillydoun Review, Bangalore Review, Collateral Journal, Esoterica Magazine, etc. He is also a screenwriter for an unannounced indie comedy series. For more information, visit www.nathanperrinwriter.com