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The Milk Maids
The convent was not a home without Hana.
All of us were trying to get used of Hana’s predicament. It was odd that no one was around to reprimand us whenever we were doing something silly. No stop that, and you should do this. I miss her. It was really true that you would only miss something after it was gone.
She was not really gone though. She was just a few miles away from us, living alone on that aged farmhouse.
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Our week of scrubbing floor and kitchen duties had finally ended.And now, we would make the farmhouse a comfortable home. The farm house was an English Tudor house. It was aged and very plain. It was rectangular in shape with steep thatch roof that was slightly extended and beaten. Its façade had earth tone cladding mostly of tan that was now faded, and the entryway was lined with chipped stone, some stone blocks below were even missing. At its right side was a tall stone chimney covered in algae and around the house was thick woode
Mathilda The Vile
I did not need the clattering silver pans of Martha to wake up early now. With Martha’s blessing I was allowed to be at the cookery whenever I wanted, but unfortunately, I still could not cook a proper dish alone. My soup tasted experimental like medicine, my loaves were either overly burnt or under baked, and the worst was my excessively sweetened hot chocolate. After clothing myself, I went to the other side of the s
Mathilda The Forgotten Folklore I
Hana told me to forget about it. But I would remember. Before what had happened, I had no idea that there was a Magda in this convent. And now, I saw her everywhere. It seemed that the convent was a small place after all. I followed the path Gabriel and I took that day. It was a long and confusing walk, but I took note of things that would lead me back to the convent that day. The oak tree with two trunks. The bridge of lilies on
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“Do you guys think that they could easily get rid of that horrid smell?” Little Fatma asked with her little shy grin. Even though they did her bad, she still concernedly asked if they could wash off the smell. Maybe because it was really awful, for its stink was deliberately hurting my nose, or maybe she was really good in nature, and she did not find pleasure in doing revenges.
Mathilda The Forgotten Folklore II
Fatma had ignored me for days now. She was still hanging around with us, and she was ignoring me as if I was not there. I tried talking to her, of course, but every time I would walk to her, she was drawing up reasons to go away. I kept trying.
Mathilda The Convent of Sinners
I had visited the chapter house too many times that I could remember, and it made me commit its interior to my memory. The faces of angels, that I named with silly epithet, on the multicolored glass mosaic, the little scribbles I drew on the matured oaken door, the empty space on the shelf for the pictured book that I stole and mislaid, and the ever-tilted frame of Saint Agatha’s visage. But what I wholly memorized was the face of Mother Renata whenever I entered the room. It was similar to summer.
Mathilda The Pursuit for Solution
I expected to be punished. For I was the perfect definition of a sinner, not Hana. Despite the teachings of the convent both real and phony, I still managed to ignore the commandments of being good, and continued on with my everyday sins of being self-centered, impatient, thoughtless, intolerant, resentful, and sloth, and the list of these negative adjectives that I was would carry on. Maybe the only damnation that would be worthy of me was fire.&nbs
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“Are you sure you can do it?” “Yes. I can.” She said with vigor. The infirmary was still when Abigail and I entered it. The convent’s only doctor was away, the medicine and tools were aside, and all of the beds were empty, but not until she settled herself on the last one beside the uns
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