Dark Night of the Soul (Preview) feat. Dark Priestess

Dark Priestess and I have joined forces like only sisters of the night can. Our minds conjured an interesting tale centered in a cemetery. The full version is longer, and still under construction.

Evenings like this were perfect for taking a stroll. Warm, moist air such as this is desirable for the active body who fancied a walk among the shade of the gently billowing willow trees. At this hour, the sun is hiding his face in the presence of the moon’s feminine beauty. She still blushes shy as her face glows pale in the dome of the sky above. However, the curtain to this theatre was closed for the evening.

Closed by a curtain of barreling rain and a spot of heavy fog. Weather that was merely weight to the body but shards to any face turned skyward to admire. The sun and the moon put aside their shyness and took refuge behind the veil of stars. C***s didn’t crow. Buzzards fell silent. Mice made nary a sound. The only howl of nature that was heard for miles was that of the wind going through the carved pathways of the land. The moist air had taken a harsh and humid turn. The darkness turned to light with forces of electricity making various posturing stances at one another, never in the same place twice. The smaller forces danced a ballet across the sky until their show ended.

The evening of chaos was nearly over and began to usher in a bit of a peaceful nightfall. Shard-like rain bowed out to blunt and gentle mist that kissed the skin instead. The howling wind became a breeze that whispered the secrets of nature to the ear which was open to gossip. The harsh humidity and fog did not stray far. There was a slight dispersal, but they did linger. Through the dispersal of these normally sky bound clouds, a nun was seen wandering.

She was quite literally soaked from head to toe. In one hand she dragged her once stiff cornette along the ground and left her head exposed. In the other she carried her shoes. As she wandered around, the nun made a bit of noise. Two things hung from her belt: a rosary and a rather unholy water bottle.

In her white habit, she moved like a noisy Will-o’-the-Wisp. Seemingly giving the ones who moved with stealth and elegance a bad name with ease. Moving with the grace and dignity of a nun was the last thing on this woman’s mind as she muttered quiet profanities to passerby headstones in the place of respect for the holy and the dead. This reflects on the reverence she lost when she read a fellow nun’s poem about turning a mausoleum pit into Lover’s Lane with a strange entity but that’s a different story.

The fellow nun in question is a bit of an odd sister. She  and the nun had originally gone rogue together but she made her decision rather quickly. Decisions, decisions. Regarding what? Chastity, philosophy, the flow of life and death, the difference between spirituality and religion. The odd sister returned to her previous life. But we are left to wander and clank among fell cypress branches, weep with the willows and sip from a steel water bottle as the night grows heavier. The nun envied the civilian lives of the names on the grave markers. “Lucky.” the nun muttered as she walked past.

None of them had her story, struggles and history. In her mind, they had it easier. No one carried her burden.
The nun gave a mild lament to her situation: 
“Who  would have imagined that I would be spending my birthday alone in a cemetery? One must stay in good spirits and raise them. Stolen ones are always the healthiest! God will have to forgive me this one indulgence.” With a few more sips there was necromancy. “Two years ago,” she reminisced, “I would have been home with my family being pampered, receiving lovely gifts and celebrating with my girlfriends in the evening. But alas, nothing lasts forever! My parents have departed this life. I am alive but yet so dead in my soul. Tonight I will conjure and be damned. Tomorrow I will repent!”

Repent. This woman who wanders…
She apologizes for very little. Her actions are deliberate and calculated. Is repent the word she meant to use after the phrase “be damned”? No one apologizes for a first class ticket to Sheol. Tomorrow she will attend mass and lie before the face of God. There was not an ounce of regret or remorse in her current actions. Any lament or sorrow the next morning is fraudulent. Dear nun knows this as well as the next veiled sister. 

The nun challenged the silence of the cemetery. “I pray religiously…. but the words reverberate from four walls and hold no more appeal than they did from the time they left my lips. Everything is so routine and automatic, no spirit whatsoever. I feel no connection. I try to be devout but the prayers feel so hollow. Almost as if they lack something, a special ingredient. Emotion? Depth? Empathy? I know I am supposed to be a child of God, yet I feel as if I am not supposed to be. So what am I then? I am so confused.”

When  we fall to our knees for a purpose that’s higher than one riddled with “phallacies”, what does the soul seek? Purpose, meaning, connection and guidance among solace as well as other things. The soul searches and reaches for the divine.
When one calls upon aspects of divine, they conjure a divine presence. When man cries to God to see if he is with them they don’t expect a response. Actions volumes upon volumes louder than words. However, when man feels that he is alone in the presence of his highest confidante, how does he respond? Who does he turn to? At this point, our nun still had faith the size of a mustard seed.

More than general faith bothered the nun. Her very own human nature conflicted with her faith. This rather rambunctious nun was loved by the male masses. Quite frankly she loved them as well. She was attentive throughout her lustful desires and even gained a few loyal mates in the process. One of those mates being the aforementioned nun gone rogue. Both women suffered this plight.
The sister’s voice had finally settled. “Chastity…… why does purity and goodness depend on chastity? I have met persons who are so warm and caring who are not at all chaste. I meet nuns in the convent who are chaste and pure " yet so cold and rigid.” She gave her head a small shake. “Why is sex and sexuality so frowned upon if Adam and Eve were created by God to copulate, fornicate, whatever it is they do? I want to taste the forbidden fruit of knowledge for just this one night, then lose myself in the answers I receive .”

The sky got darker and the sips drew longer. The nun was quick to realize that her water bottle did not aid her in solving her problems. She turned to a patch of statuesque headstones and shouted her problems to them as if they were listening. “Isn’t it ironic that I find the most joy in spending time with the dead as I celebrate another year of living?"

The overall smell of rot and decay began to excite the nun versus repulse her. The petrichor rang through her senses and stirred up desire to break the rules of her current lifestyle. She had a spark of yearning and inspiration. Throughout her fit of rambling to headstones and wandering between them, a few of the headstones were statues and heard every word. Madonna and Eve turned their grey gazes to the nun and beckoned her close. She was frozen to the spot, hesitant to move and decided that she must be loony, as now the statues were looking at her and beckoning her close.

Eve shook her head. “We’re the ones made of stone, get the lead out of your shoes.”
The nun walked into the foggy opening and sat at their feet.
“You may regret that.” Madonna’s voice was faint.
The nun didn’t quite understand. “Why shouldn’t I sit? I am so tired, and have no idea how long I was walking. Besides, I’m already drenched.”
Madonna said nothing else.

Eve eyed the nun over while her gaze was averted. She glanced at her skin and was truly taken aback by her eyes. She turned to Madonna and they gave each other a quiet and long-winded sigh.
Eve finally spoke up. “Your concerns are nothing new.”
The nun shrugged.
The two biblical women glanced at one another again.
“Well… a lot of women who make commitments like this… often have doubts before their perpetual vows.” Eve struggled through a few spots.
Madonna gave her a thumbs up.
The nun glanced up from the ground. “Who lies here?”
“Uh… me? Eve?” the statue pointed to herself.
“According to Genesis, you’re deceased. If the bible is true, then that’s true.” The nun moved closer to her.
“Well we are having this discussion.”
Madonna held herself stiff but remained silent.
The nun raised an eyebrow. “So you are confirming to me that you are a woman who did exist?”
“Metaphorical, allegorical, or in the flesh with Adam where I was deemed feminine and beautiful?” Eve flipped her hair.
The nun was very stern. “If I dig up this coffin Eve, will I have exhumed the body of Eve of Eden? Now I ask you once more: Who lies here?”
Eve twirled her hair. “You meant in terms of sleeping…”

Okay, now the narrator even has to ask: What? Madonna held her composure and let Eve’s shenanigan slide. The nun was obviously confused but now was not her time to intervene. The nun was well aware that Eve was not an imbecile. She was possibly too smart for her own good. She was cast out of Paradise for her lack of ignorance. When her veil of ignorance was lifted she saw the world for what it was. It wasn’t exactly disobedience, it is the lesson of ignorance being bliss. Bliss was the garden as long as someone else determined good and evil. Interesting how this is one of the first lessons of life.

The nun understood several things. Eve was a smart cookie, Eve did not misconstrue “Who lies here” and most importantly, Eve knows who is lying. Nevertheless, Eve continued to speak as if the situation never happened. Eve mostly spoke about her adventures of being a housewife and mother. This interested the nun in no shape or form. When the words “only for the one who suits you” came around she was even less interested. But was it really something to disregard?
“Excuse me?” the nun leaned closer.

I guess she listened. 

“Your chastity dilemma. If you really want guidance, lay beside one who will suit you.” Eve gave her a grin.
The nun was silent and Madonna seemed close to foaming at the mouth.
Eve became very flippant in her counselling. “Woman was made to assist man and for his sake no? Help someone who suits you. Avoid b******s. Be fruitful and multiply and all that jazz. However, I know women have different values in these times.”
Our already confused sister was none closer to achieving realization of anything. She blinked a few times then turned her head in another direction.

At this point, Madonna was more than happy to step in and politely welcomed the nun. “Good evening, Sister! Please accept my wishes for a blessed birthday.”
The nun decided to ignore Eve and her riddles. “Thank you, Madonna!! I’m not sure about the blessed part. You look so pure and lovely. I feel like such a sinner tonight, but strangely, that thought brings me no shame.”
She smiled and responded, “God loves and forgives all sinners. You are young and pretty and already a child of God. Why would you focus on your sins?”
The nun contemplated the question before admitting, “Maybe because my thoughts are too chaotic and sensual. Maybe because I seem to have lost my spirituality. Maybe because I have so many questions… and sinful dreams. You are obviously devout and sincere and I guess that is why you were chosen by God.”
Madonna raised her blessed hand. “God does not choose persons randomly. He knows what is in your heart. You need to pray for strength. And faith.”

The mustard seed of faith began to rattle.

The nun felt disillusioned. “Prayer. I pray hundreds of times but I feel so empty. I came here tonight and feel more spiritual than I have ever felt before. Why does death hold such life for me?”
“In death, there is eternal life.”
The nun was silent. ” Maybe that is why I come to celebrate an extra year of life, in a place that is sodden with death. I feel so spiritual here, among the dead and so empty among the living.”
Madonna laughed. “You certainly are complex. Why have you chosen to be a nun then?”
One solitary tear escapes the nun’s eyes, and she wiped it away angrily. “Because I had no choice after my parents died and my home was sold. I chose spirituality over materialism, but do not feel spiritual at all”.
“Spirituality and religion are different”, Madonna clarified. “You don’t have to be a nun to be spiritual.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because you never asked” said Madonna. The nun responded, “Touché.”
Madonna smiled. “You never know things unless you ask”.
The nun was silent for a few minutes, then took a few drinks from her water bottle. “Can you tell me how to be spiritual then?”

“That’s for you to know and find out. Your higher being is different from mine, Eve’s and the next persons. How we achieve divinity may not be the same way that you do. Our path may not be yours. ”
The nun reflected, “The things I find myself meditating on are by no means spiritual, but more sexual. I dream of winged beings making love to me on the altar of the chapel, and I experience feelings of ecstasy that are unlike anything I have ever felt. Were you in love with Joseph, and did you experience those type of sexual feelings with him?”

Madonna hesitated before responding, choosing her words carefully. “I loved Joseph, yes, with a pure innocent love. And I loved God with total and utter devotion. I have never experienced sexual feelings like what you describe .”

Madonna began to have feelings of consternation. She grew mildly worried about the nun but reassured herself that she had a strong head on her shoulders. Madonna turned to Eve whose lips remained sealed after her prophecy that she personally thought was highly unnecessary.
Finally the Divine Mother gathered her words. “You chose to be a nun. You are supposed to be closer to God than normal persons. However, you seem to be more confused than any.”
The nun gave an uneasy chuckle. “Yes, I am. Perhaps that would explain my lack of spiritual connection to God. I don’t know what to do.”

Madonna began to feel like she was finally getting somewhere with the nun. A few stern words never hurt anyone as long as they were delivered in the proper manner. Part of being a mother is to get straight to the point, not just coddle. She thought her next few statements over before she spoke them. Madonna did not want to be loose-lipped like Eve.
Madonna assured, “Prayer and sincere devotion are the steps to reaching where you want to be. Pray for guidance in life and pray for wisdom to make the choices that you have to make. It is through prayer that all answers are received, once it is done with sincerity.”
“Do you mean the regular prayers or my own prayers?”
“Your own is always more powerful.” stated Madonna.
“Do you think then, that God is real?”
Madonna responded in the affirmative. The nun was still not convinced.
“And if he is a fraud, is this whole thing not a lie?” The nun glanced at Eve.
Madonna rolled her eyes at the First Woman. “I cannot assist you with that, my child. God has been very real to me in my life and if you truly want to know him, you have to be devout in your sincerity and faith”.
“I will try,” the nun promised.

The nun rose to her feet, only to realize that her bum is wet and muddy from sitting on the wet ground. She yelped in horror then debated her next move. Eve’s laughter resounds in the darkness.
Madonna sighed. “I did tell you that you would regret that move.”
Eve chimed in. “Maybe you can strip bare and enjoy your naked beauty on your birthday. You may find someone suitable and indulge in a moment of being fruitful!”
Madonna berated Eve for her scandalous suggestion. Eve continued to laugh and blush at her own cheeky humor.
”There is a basin of water on a table a few yards away which you can use to wash the mud off.” Madonna motioned to it. “But I agree with Eve that you may have to go nude until your habit is dry.”
As the nun walked away in search of the basin, both Madonna and Eve have a hearty laugh.

Talking headstones was certainly an interesting experience. The nun was rather taken aback by the blatant “misinterpretation” of “Who lies here”. Did Eve speak in riddles or did she speak in lies? Needless to say the lie bothered her.
The nun was used to hearing the Gospel of Madonna. The years she spent in Catholic school were filled with the teachings and examples of Madonna. However, the nun fell into line through conformity, and not inspiration of the Divine Mother. The recent prophecy of a lie foretold by Eve put the words of Madonna in jeopardy. Was Eve truly having an existential crisis? The mere thought was a blow to the nun. Her entire life was the church. Her current career path (and soon to be life choice) was that of religion. Now the first woman could have essentially told her that God was dead, and the holiest mother didn’t exactly confirm otherwise.

 

The heat of the night and the dampness of the habit began to bother the nun. In the secrecy of the cemetery and privacy of the dark, her clothes slipped to the damp pavement without much effort or hesitation. She felt impure in the eyes of the dead until she drew confidence from a summarized verse of her friend’s poem. If a woman can "behave like an 'untamed b***h'", she can wander naked in silence. With the bat of a lash, her guilt disappeared. In fact, everything felt right. She wiped the mud from her bottom with the damp clothes and kept moving. She stopped to think about how far she had wandered in this state then burst out in laughter. 
The sheer burlesqueness of life began to vibrate on a low level. Although vibrating on a low level, this act of wandering around naked brought another grin to the nun’s face. Tonight would not be another night she was bored to death. 
…Tonight would not be another night she was bored to death. 
The nun turned her face to the ground. “The Grim Reaper missed his cue.” 
I, the narrator twiddled my thumbs. “I- I’ve noticed.” 

Author's Note

I am aware of the font change at the bottom. For some reason I was unable to fix it in the editor.