“The time for childish thoughts are over, understood?” The man before her was nothing like her previous memories of him. The man from her memory was kind, gentle with both his actions and words. The memory of that gentle man was replaced with his present demeanor, who was callus as his over-worked hands and reflected the chill felt outside.
Today was the day when he wanted her to grow up, to become as cold as the wind whipping through the cemetery. He emulated the gloom that was being cast down upon the pair who stood before a marked grave. It read that of her deceased mother, of a loving wife, and marked the beginning of her growing up. The next step in her journey, which would include the makings of a good worker and replacement for her deceased mother.
All Shelagh Mannion wanted to do was place dairies upon her mother’s grave, an innocent attempt at affection for her beloved mother. However, her father didn’t see the action for what it was. Instead, he saw it as a weakness and wanted her to understand that such notions were not tolerated anymore.
Continue reading “Sum of A Woman (1.1)”
A few days had passed since the incident of her misgivings, brief moments spent on entertaining other thoughts. Sister Bernadette had reasoned her actions on hearing the personal experiences of the nurses, reasoning it was only natural to think of such things. As the days followed, Sister Bernadette found her resolve reinforced by her work and duties.
Continue reading “Snippets of Us (1.5)”
Everything was blurry at first, but the presence of light helped in rousing her awake. She had sat up in an effort to further waken her senses, but only experienced confusion. The daze yielded from a very good night’s sleep persisted as she tried to recognize her unknown surroundings. At first, she noted how the room was nothing like her cell at Nonnatus House. It was larger, the walls a lighter tone, and even the window letting in the morning’s rays was different.
Continue reading “The Morning After”
The Longing of a Swan:
It was exquisite, unlike anything she had heard before, especially from her time at the Order. She thought nothing would compare to daily plainsong of her fellow Sisters or the rare moments when they traveled to the Mother House in Chichester. Traveling to the Mother House rarely took place, but each time it happened, Sister Bernadette was allowed the opportunity to listen and participant in their orchestra of worship.
She then remembered a time in her childhood, when music was played in its entirety, but never again after the death of her mother. Her family didn’t have much in possessions back in the green fields of Aberdeen, but there was something cherished equally amongst her family. All three of them could agree on the importance of music. They had owned a portable, wind-up gramophone which was played all throughout the house.
Continue reading “Snippets of Us (1.4)”
“How well is Nurse Lee holding up?” asked Sister Bernadette, she noticed Nurse Lee’s quiet behavior and overheard most of the nurse’s distress from her fellow colleagues. The impact of Mr. Collett’s death and of personal woes.
Sister Bernadette had sought out Sister Julienne’s opinion and awareness on the matter for it had not been long since Nurse Lee had joined their ranks. It was after compline when Sister Bernadette found Sister Julienne in her office, just before she was ready to retire for the night.
Continue reading “Snippets of Us (1.3)”
Her pain went unspoken for many months, weeks, and days leading up to her release. She had shielded her thoughts, the effect was akin to a thunderstorm, brewing in the distance. She never wished to make a fuss, choosing to suffer in silence, but he took notice of her. He saw her when no one else did and in turn, their feelings were realized.
Continue reading “The Start of Things”
She didn’t expect the extent of her bodily pain nor the emotional scarring following her surgery. She was fooling herself in believing everything would fall back into place once they arrived home. Shelagh had left many tears behind on the patient bed of Dr. Horringer, on the road from Harley Street to their flat. But the tears continued on even when Patrick held her, through his endless kisses, and when he would let go.
Continue reading “The Painting”