Entry #31

Such stuff was years ago. I was much younger then. Much. Maybe not a decade, but it is amazing how much you can grow and change in the course of five years. One day you are stepping onto the deck of a new world where the oceans are blue as the sky above, and the sands as white as their clouds. You stand on this mirrored surface where the sky mimics the earth, and the earth mimics the sky above. You stand there and realize that everything after this next step means your life will change. The only difference between now and then? Now, I know better. You only expect the best and as much as you try it is – and always will be – difficult to prepare for the worst. I should have known better, but like I said, now I do.

I was discovered by Mama Gondu and Elias. They had returned the by sunrise with a band of Tairona. They found me cradling Father Leoncio in my lap. I was stroking his hair. I had my habit around him, and I wore but the barest of essential threads. I wanted to keep him warm, because nights at the base of a mountain can prove chilly and unrelenting. They can burrow through layers of skin and strike the very juices of your bone with little pity. Very well, no remorse. Part of my hair had gone white, they said the color seemed to have jumped right out of me. Later, I would hear this was a side effect of shock.Is that really possible? Probably not. I like to think it was a battle
with a demon that altered my state of mind. The rain steamed off of me upon contact, leaving me with a milky, flimsy aura.

How could I have known I had been fighting this evil for so long? Whatabout my brother's death – murder, it had said - was so different from any other? It had mentioned potential, that there was so much to me that could be great. Was he right? Had I been sprinting from my destiny instead of to it? I thought, aside from the incident with my brother, that I was destined for God's graces. No, the demon could not be right. I chose my path, not he, and not even God. I chose to walk in God's way, it was my decision, and I have stayed by that. I would fulfill my place as an anchoress.

Father Leoncio was taken to a hospital, and I soon joined him in this infirmary in the coastal village by the port. The food was terrible from the looks of it. How would I know? I refused to eat it. Father Leoncio visited me room time to time. Then, and only by his hand, did I eat, and Lord, did I eat. I would suckle the last remaining crumb from his fingertips if I had to. Something about that man compelled me to survive in his presence. Perhaps it was the shadow he cast, for when he visited me the sun was often setting outside my western window. He would be bathed in gold
and red, and the colors would spiral and resemble that fateful night on the hill. He told me he would see me back in Spain. That Captain Gonzalo had made sure that any attempt to resurrect the mission would be denied.

“Seville? I am going home to Seville?”

“Yes,” he answered, the wound on his forehead had to have been healing nicely under all of those bandages. The swelling had gone down, and he was speaking again.

“I will see the cloister again?”

“Of course, Hermana Nieve.”

And I will be an anchoress, for my deeds I would be granted this wish.

The thought kept me from going mad on the trip back across the great sea between me and my rightful place in the church. I remember the dock being so busy, and I remember the smell of fish and tobacco in the air. Oh, how I thought of Father Alvarelo, and a shiver ran down my spine. I was loaded into a simple cart. There were nuns waiting for me there in crisp white habits and black embroidery. Deacons were with them too in restrictive collars and expressionless faces. I leaned my head on the shoulder of one of the nuns, and the reigns were snapped. The horse whinnied, and started off down the street away from the dock. I must admit, I was rather surprised upon entering the cloister. It looked much different than before. The steeple was tall, but much more modest, and my memory failed me when I tried to recall if the steeple really was so tall when I left it. We entered an enclosed courtyard where other sisters watched me arrive from the windows and from the open door leading back into the cloister. I was home, I was truly home. Sure, the structure looked much different than it did before, but here I was.

I was prepared for my anchorite lodgings. They took my old and dirty clothes from me, and threw water over me. Oh, how cold it was, though I hardly reacted. There was something burning deep inside of me to keep me resistant to such discomfort. The sensation was nice, and the other sisters and brothers were surprised to see steam rise from my skin in reaction to the cold water. I merely looked out the window, and watched the sky. There was still so much we had to do to prepare, and all they could do was stare. I was scrubbed vigorously, my scalp deeply cleaned to the roots of my hair, and brushes were drawn under my nails, and ever single inch of me washed over and over again.

After this, my hair was cut, and I began to weep. Do not mistake me, dear and sweet Adan, I was not weeping for losing my hair, and such a weep was not distressful. I was elated, I was thrilled to have even be chosen for such a chance. I held my hair in my fingertips and played with it like confetti. They dressed me in my vestments. A cap for my head, a long white gown, and slippers. A robe was draped around my shoulders, and I was escorted to my quarters. I could only keep asking question after question.

“Where are we going? Oh! My quarters, yes? Is it big? Is it small? Will I have a garden? When can I see people? Will I have parchment and quill? Just a little bit of ink, yes?”

The sister accompanying me unlocked the door, and the brothers at our sides stepped away to allow us easier access into the room. The quarter itself is small and quite attractive to me. I would not expect them to be any larger than this. Why, that would be far too lavish! There is a desk by my window overlooking a drooping, decaying garden below. Someone will have to fix that up right away. How could plants go so neglected when they can be such pretty – even efficient – things? My cot was small, there is a simple quilt at the end of it for colder nights. A wash basin and pitcher on a table close by, and at my window's disk there is quill and journals. Father Leoncio had heard my request clearly then! Now I could communicate and chronicle my everlasting marriage with God Himself.


“Oh!” I exclaimed, and swept across the room to the journals and the quill. Beside the quill was a squat ink pot, the glass so smooth to the touch. “Yes, this is perfect. So perfect. Thank you, thank you very much. You are most kind.”


“Yes, Hermana,” the sister said simply, and left me in the room. Just as I had been told, the door was shut and bolted. My life as an anchoress has begun.


And what a life it has been so far. Different somewhat from what I have been told. For instance, sometimes I am allowed to eat with the other sisters of the cloisters. They do not say much, some of them scream every now and then. This is a behavior I find most disturbing and quite annoying. Other differences include me to keep the garden below my window, and should I want to I am allowed to leave my quarters at certain times to walk about the courtyard. This makes little sense to me. Most anchorites are denied so frivolities. Rarely do I take the cloister's suggestion to do these things, and should I ever volunteer to tend the garden or eat beyond my walls, I do so silently, and interact with no one so as to keep up the practices of my anchorite vows.


Other than this, I am kept in my room under bolt and key. I am fed through a slit in the door, and occasionally I may open a window in my door and speak to anyone who would wish advice. I try to speak for God and give them the appropriate guidance. There are even times when strangers will not come to my door. Did you know this, Adan? Father Leoncio still visits me. I will only see him at my door – should he wish to speak. He gave up on this after his visiting hours resulted in silence when I was taken beyond my habitat. The Father is very kind, though after the events in Sierre Nevada he is considering leaving the church. Upon hearing this noise I denied him any more visits. Perhaps I was too harsh.


Perhaps I can see him again. I said such nasty things to him though. Do you think he would forgive me, Adan?


Sometimes, Adan, I have visitors in my room that are much different from the sisters and the other workers within the church. I have seen angels as I have seen demons, and each of them seductive in their own promises and their own touches. It is not them I am worried about. Sometimes, I worry about what is inside me... churning, growling, impatient as he is anxious.


My days are otherwise normal. I write to you every day, Adan. Sometimes I have conferences with the Father of this place, and he is often accompanied by the Mother Superior. He is like the demon in that he is always trying to convince me to leave this place. What a devil, I know his tricks, and I curse him as the devil he is, and refuse conversation until I am taken to my room. I will tend my garden in silence, and I eat my modest meals gratefully by candle light. They are worried about giving new anchorites such things, and I cannot blame them. Anchorites are refused general interaction, and if a fire should break loose in here? My, what a mess that would have to clean up, eh?


Occasionally, I am not myself. I must admit. The sisters here must calm me. You see, what is inside me these days, Adan, wants to be let out quite terribly. He threatens at any moment to break down the door, that he would imbue me with such might that I could tear the portal off its very hinges if I wanted to. His threats are as idle as his coaxing. He has tried everything to free himself of me, but I keep him close, and I keep him inside.


We had a deal, and I am not one to break my vow.

So, for my part I do my best to behave and do God's work. I speak with God every night when I am not writing to you, Adan. He is, after all, my true husband in this world now. I am so lucky that he would forgive me for the occurrences at the mission. That he would even forgive me for you, Adan. I can feel him in this room sometimes when I am sleeping. He is holding me very close, and wrapped up in such love I fall asleep. I dream that I am made love to by him in a way that is indescribable for it is not like the earthly, passionate kind. The ecstasy is difficult to phrase, it is only able to be felt. I awake from these evenings, rejuvenated and ready to begin my next day as an anchoress. Sometimes, I forget about the devil lurking inside of me, but I know as I impart God's greatest wisdom do those outside my door that the devil he still, he still follows me.