The Nun Story

WEEK ONE OF MY COURSE IN FLASH FICTION.

I HAVE TO DIG INTO MY MEMORY BANK AND RECALL EARLIEST MEMORIES, 

MAX 300 WORDS

“When I grow up I want to be a nun like Audrey Hepburn in The Nun’s Story,” her composition began.

Sarah loved the echoes from the stairwell in the great hall of the convent where the polished mahogany reflected the votive lights around the statue of the Virgin. Here Sarah’s eyes followed Mary’s gaze towards the angel who was hovering over her left shoulder. Sarah could not see Gabriel but she knew from Mary’s face that the archangel was delivering tidings of great joy.

The rustle of a nun’s rosary or the scratch of her slippered feet on the marble tiles always scuppered Sarah’s contemplation of the Annunciation.

She would join the Mercy order and, like Audrey, go to the Congo and convert souls.

She told Sister Jacinta this in her composition.

The novice would surely love the story.

Monday morning and the copy books were sitting in a pile on Sister’s desk.

If hers was near the top it was a bad sign, as the novice always gave back homework in ascending order of merit.

She heard the slippered feet, the rattle of beads, the swish of the nun’s habit; but it was Mother Superior who bustled through the door.

“Sister Jacinta is unwell, girls. Let’s stand and say a prayer for her recovery.”

Perhaps Sister Jacinta hadn’t read her composition after all?

Had she been struck by some missionary disease, like leprosy?

Had she even been to The Missions?

Sarah wanted to run and kneel at the foot of the Virgin and beseech her to intervene, but the older nun was already handing out the copies.

When she opened hers she read, “I love your composition, Sarah,” written in the novice’s hand.

By break time the news was out

Sister Jacinta would not be taking her final vows.

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2019