THE NUN IN THE PENTAGRAM

Chapter One: Our Father

She was staring at her again.

That blonde-haired and pine-green-eyed woman was tightly bound on a wooden pole, whose hands are visibly cuffed together with rusty iron chains. Her mouth was sealed shut with a cloth soaked in her blood and tears and her feet were bolted against the wooden pole.

Underneath her was a pile of wood, moistened with flammable oil. Its awful stench can be smelled from afar, making her lungs begged for fresh air. Her eyes drooped as pain-derived from her wounds and bruises-seeped through her flawless skin and into her very bones. Her wet silky hair barely swayed with the frigid breeze of the starless night. Her ears could no longer stand the ear-splitting hiss of gossips of these infuriated town folks.

There, at the center of the crowd, stood a puritan dressed in a shaggy black robe with a crucifix dangling on a chain around his plumpy neck.

The sky was ebony dark; no moon nor stars ornamenting the vast heavenly blanket. The only source of light was from the torch of that puritan, who kept on reciting words with a deep and thundering voice in front of the blonde lady that made Viara's skin wholly dry.

"You, Ilza Culpepper, are proven guilty of witchcraft and murder of a sixteen-year-old girl. By the grace of the Lord bestowed upon me, as well as of Magistrate Hawthorn, thereby sentence you to be burned alive in stake as a punishment of your crimes and atrocities towards the town of Salem. Just like how your master, the King of Hell, prevail to bathe in the unearthly fire of the underworld."

A smirk then crept on the face of the raven-black-haired woman beside him. Her violet eyes shone as the flames began to engulf the quivering body of the poor woman- whose porcelain-skinned face resembles Viara's own.

*****

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Her best friend's voice echoed in the narrowness of the convent room. Her excitement surpassed her own as today will be her Professing of Vows and Veiling Ceremony.

"Get ready now, Via. You don't want to be late on your glorious special day today!"

The jovial voice of the auburn-haired nun Mary Llewis, whom she regarded as her ever-enthusiastic best friend, resonated inside her head.

Arising from the grip of slumber, she deliberately lifted her eyelids-revealing her pristine turquoise eyes twinkling like a distant star as she blinked twice to adjust her vision. She was lying in a soft, comfy bed as if she was drifting afloat through a sea of tranquillity.

The gentle touch of the sheets felt like a thousand flamingo feathers that cover the entirety of her body-leaving her strawberry-blonde hair gracefully swirling on the cushion under her head.

While still lost in the ocean of her thoughts, she dumbfoundingly stared at the azure-painted ceiling whilst trying to recall the macabre demise of that poor pine-green-eyed creature in her seemingly surreal dream.

"Just who are you, dear lady?" she mumbled silently through her mind. With her left hand, she fondled the obsidian pendant on her silvery necklace that rested upon her firm breasts.

"Viara Armitage!"

Mary called her again in a nearly shouting manner. Yet, she seemed to be undisturbed and deafened by her friend's bawling.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Mary grunted like a child who's about to throw a tantrum. She couldn't bear the growing annoyance of being physically ignored by her girl-friend any longer.

She turned around to face the thick crimson curtain that hinders the sunlight from entering the chilled room by the glass window. She grasped the hems of the curtains and swiftly split it open.