Mathilda

It was by far the coldest day in September, but it doesn’t mean that I could spend all day drowning on pillows and savoring a cup of old tea. I preferred that though, compared to my usual routine, but I had to finish my long list of chores and it would take me quarter of the day to have all done.      And besides, avocation was strictly forbidden in the convent. I slightly learned the hard way when I chose slumber over my task of feeding old Rufus and his pals.

“Knights of Saint Christopher, we, the sisters of Saint Agatha, welcome you all.”     The hall reverberated with Mother Renata’s voice. We were all summoned to welcome these so-called knights, even Granny, the old crook the convent adopted, was imperatively told to attend. I was at the back corner of the row, but I could still see them. 

The prayer hall was a different realm from the perspicuous   convent. Instead of rustic oaks and bronze detailing, the inside of the hall was filled with abounding sandalwoods and golds. But the absolute treasure within the interior was the renaissance fresco that stretched from the nave up to the high altar.      The ceiling was brimming with images of little angels and doves, across a dawning sky. All of them seemed alive, and as if had an affair of their own. Some angels were playing, there were some that appeared to be dancing, and funnily, a few were soundly sleeping.

 I made it on time for dinner.      As I walked back my quarter earlier, everyone assumed that I was one of the knights so no one dared ask where I had been or where I was going. I felt like a ghost treading through halls. I was there, but no one could really see me, or they just chose not to.  

 I decided to start with the most untiring task from the list, which was feeding the horses, and end it opposite the latter, which was cleaning the bare dirtied hog pen. But it was now midday, and still, I was not even half done with the chores. And to make matters worse, I was already dead worn out too.     Hence, I decided to rest, and there was only one place to hide from Sister Rene’s lurking eyes. The neighboring river-lake.