Féretro

Short Story

I walked into the Church and that's when I saw her.

"What's your name?" I think that was my way of saying, why are you carving my brother's grave, but as he neither was my brother, and she wasn't carving anything out, I had to ask something different.

The air was heavy, and the sky was grey, everything felt damp, and strenuous, and I had gotten used to walking through life as if walking through ocean waves.

The Nun standing in front of me, with the same gaze as a mirror, held a dirty shovel between her hands, it wasn't oxidized, and the handle almost looked made out of gold.

She had a strong pose, as she leaned down over and over, to shovel out the insides of the grave pit she was making, and then just as quickly, the rest of the Earth and gravel, winded up on the other side.

The Nun looked like a woman possessed, carving out this one grave, if I didn't know any better, I would think she was burying a body she had killed herself.

It occurred to me, I had originally come here to stare at graves, and now, I was only staring at her.

As soon as the thought invaded me: I wrapped my arms around the red cloak I had on, trying to feel him as close to my blood as I possibly could, without bleeding myself out first.

He, was the person I had come here to visit, and I had to stay focused; A Woman On A Mission.

The Nun turned to face me, I couldn't help but notice the way her long dress, maybe uniform, flowed behind her, making these beautiful swirls of cloth and frill. The long, white and black fabric of her tunic, appeared unbearably heavy.

For a second, I felt my eyes sting, and I was sure I was going to break down into tears. simply looking at her beautiful pale, and flushed red with effort, face.

Truth is, nowadays, everything makes me wanna burst into tears, I go outside, and everything breaks my heart.

But I didn't. I didn't want to be looked at like that.

She finally answered "You can simply address me as Sister" Her voice sounded like rain hitting the ground, and I couldn't distinguish, if her breath had suddenly caused the sky to fall apart, or if that was just me, and my broken heart.

"That's not what I asked you" The words left my mouth, and the voice coming out of my entrails sounded as foreign to me, as the grey sky over our heads, or the hard dirt underneath our feet.

I wondered if she could even feel anything at all, inside those thick black boots of hers, or if she would prefer not to.

Must be an ominous feeling, knowing you are stepping over bones like that.

She smiled for a second, her features indescribable, I couldn't decide what she was thinking at that moment, she looked at me, like a child looking at an ant, all amusements and idle curiosities.

"Angelisa Harel" She let the name slip from her lips in a whisper, like it was a secret, and hell, maybe it was "Call me Nun Lisa, Child."

"An Angel Nun, isn't that a little too on the nose."

She giggled, her pink lips spreading across her face "You could say; I have a call since Holy Birth."

"So, God chose you to dig out graves at a Church?" I asked her. It felt like I was stalling.

"Maybe so" She held her shovel up high, but there was no light to reflect off it "Wouldn't that be romantic?"

I held onto tighter, to the heavy red clock around my shoulders, it was his, like everything else in the World, it only reminded me of him.