Passing Through

Father Almighty, Deliver my people.

Deliver my homeland.

Restore the Emerald Isle to the World of Erie.

Maybe you could bring Erie back to us again?

In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Erie, or Eriu, is the Mother of Ireland. She's the one who brought us the beauty we see all around us. But what will become of us now that she's departed our land?

The Fae are said to have fled the land of the living. They left our world and went underneath the ground into the Sidhe. Are they hiding from us, or are they avoiding us? Did they just grow weary of our land and forsake us?

"Kathleen!" Came the harsh, shrill voice of the Matron of the Convent. Kathleen was jolted from her prayer and turned to face the elderly woman. The massive woman towered over Kathleen, her blue eyes piercing through her green eyes and judging her.

Nola, the Matron, was supposed to be like a Christian mother to the nuns. But at a towering 6 feet 3 inches, Nola's Norweigian eyes pierced the young girls like cold icicles.

On top of her imposing height and vibrant eyes, she never smiled. She didn't scowl, but she never smiled, either. It was as if her face was incapable of expression. Kathleen decided to combat her emotionless face with a bright smile.

"I was just praying, Matron Nola," Kathleen told her cheerfully. But her words seemed to have little impact on the elderly woman.

"I do believe the Father is weary of your pleas," she answered coldly. "Now, to your feet. The sanctuary needs a good scrubbing."

"The Father is never weary," she told the woman as she stood to her feet and slipped on her sandals. "He created the whole earth after all."

"Ah, yes, but don't you recall what He did on the Seventh day?" the Matron asked her as they walked out of the prayer room.

"I think He rested because He enjoys dreaming," Kathleen giggled as they walked down the stone corridors towards the Sanctuary.

"Pish-posh!" the Matron dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "The Father does not dream."

"He must, though!" Kathleen insisted as she gestured to the rose gardens in the patios below. "Look at how gorgeous those flowers are! How could a being make those unless they dream?"

"The Father does NOT dream," Nola declared firmly. Kathleen wrinkled her forehead but decided to fall silent.

Sometimes I think Nola is the Creator. She speaks, and it's so.

Nola left Kathleen with a bucket of water and a bristle brush. She ordered her to scrub and walked away. Kathleen called back to her, though, as the old nun departed.

"Wait, won't I have any help?"

"No, perhaps this will teach you that brevity is your friend," Nola called back and disappeared behind the corner. Kathleen let out a heavy sigh but decided to start scrubbing.

One of Kathleen's greatest assets was her positive attitude. Nothing, not even a crabby old nun, could discourage her. If she had to scrub the whole sanctuary, she'd commune with the various Saints who stood sentinel in the shadows.

"So, you understand me, right Bridget?" she asked the beloved young woman saint. The statue of Bridget had such a small, sweet smile that Kathleen felt certain she was hearing her ramble as she scrubbed the floors.

Kathleen had been chatting with the young saint for the past hour. She felt certain that Bridget agreed with her on her most recent rant. She'd be talking so much that she somehow managed to miss a strange noise coming from behind the sanctuary.

"Sshh, Bridget," Kathleen said to the statue as if she had been the one chatting away for the past hour. "Something is behind the Crucifix!"

Who would dare hide behind the Holiest space? Kathleen crossed herself and grabbed a broom. If it were a rat or mouse, she'd have to catch it and bring it to the Matron.

Nola would be displeased. She'd find some way to blame Kathleeen for the critter. But it didn't change the fact that it was her duty to capture the beast and bring it to be executed. If they drank the Holy Water or ate the Communion, they were profane.

I do feel bad for those little creatures, though.

"Hey!" she cried out suddenly, hoping the little critter would run away and thus escape condemnation. "You'd better leave, little fella. I don't want to burn you alive!"

"Damn, you're a real bitch, aren't you?" came a cocky, slightly hungover voice from behind the Holy Place. Kathleen felt herself grow cold.

Who could that be?

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I hope you enjoyed this second entry to the Passing Through Series. If you missed the first part, please check it out here: https://vocal.media/fiction/passing-through-fv22tt0aw7

I wanted to give a little shoutout to the Vikings (Norwegians) in Nola. They were originlly raiders and a real terror to the Irish, but over time they came to live in peace. In fact, Dublin is a Norwegian name which means Black Water. You can read more about the Vikings in Ireland here: https://www.vikingeskibsmuseet.dk/en/professions/education/the-viking-age-geography/the-vikings-in-the-west/ireland#:~:text=The%20Vikings%20settled%20in%20Dublin,founded%20twice%20by%20the%20Vikings.

By the way, this is a cross-over story with my WattPad Story, The Pardon: https://www.wattpad.com/story/294446368-the-pardon-don%27t-run-stallion-jack-o%27-willy?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=EmilyMarieConcannon&wp_originator=QLLkVLbj3Y9dkOe83q3uGStJlH%2BHR5Ghq%2B5ear2r6TBZi87WXyVh53P8ktmkom08q%2BCksVpFkF4rQMwPf7b9IjS6FzFRvdC2gQ55pZTIFWB7Rkff04%2B8hnovUYwkDY%2BX

This is the same story, but told from a different perspective! You'll get to read more about Kathleen's encounter with this character in the next installment which will be up by December 23rd! :) :)