Nephilim and the Nun

•Chapter One•

Adina:
The loud resonating sound of the gong assaulted my ears, forcefully pulling me out of my peaceful slumber. With a growl of displeasure, I rolled onto my stomach in my tiny bed, pressing my head into the pillow and pulling the thin material of my aged comforter over my head, hoping that would be enough to prevent the sounds of the noisy church gong from assailing my sleep, but that was just wishful thinking, as it sounded again, this time, louder than the last.

The mornings were the time I hated growing up and living in a parish. Since I'd been young, I couldn't remember a day that this noisy gong hadn't disrupted my sleep, all in the name of attending the morning mass. I wasn't a morning person, but apparently, no one cared about that. It was either I attended the mass or faced the brunt by confessing to my waywardness and backsliding from the ways of the Lord, as Mother Theresa always phrased it.

Speaking of Mother Theresa, she was another reason that had me scampering to my feet the moment the gong sounded for the third time. I didn't need a prophet to tell she was already on her way to my room, like she does every morning, to pull me to the church for the very mass that I hated with my very soul. Quickly, I reached for my habit from the chair beside my small reading table, where I'd neatly folded it the previous night, and slipped it on. The long dress fell way past my knees, almost getting to my feet. Thereafter, I managed to comb the wild tresses of my hair with my fingers, before slipping on my headgear. Just in time, Mother Theresa's footsteps could be heard outside my room door before a knock sounded on the door.

"Adina?" her soft motherly voice sailed into my ears. Usually, whenever I heard that voice, it brought a sense of calm to me but not in the mornings. I always hated how guilty it made me feel, for disliking the morning mass.

"Yes, mother," I responded in the most gentle voice I could muster while slipping on my shoes.

"It's time for mass, my dear,"

"I'm prepared, mother," I responded, as I reached for the door handle, pulling it open to reveal the petite woman, whom I'd grown to love and see as a motherly figure. As usual, she was dressed in her habit_the only uniform I'd ever seen her wearing. Her glasses rested on the ridge of her nose, and her small eyes smiled at me the moment the door opened.

"Come on dear, hurry up or we'll be late. Father Aaron is already at the church and so are the other nuns." without waiting for my response, she turned on her heels, knowing I'd follow her.

Closing my door, I tried to catch up with her, walking as fast as I could. In a hurry to get to the church before the mass started, I hadn't been looking at my path that I stumbled on a stone. A yelp escaped my lips but I quickly shut them, as I crouched down to study my toe that had been affected.

"Oh dear," Mother Theresa muttered in a concerned voice, rushing to my side. "Are you alright?"

I nodded in response, fingering the toe that had just a scratch in it.

"It's just a scratch," I told her.

"We bless the Lord," she murmured. Grabbing onto my arm, she tried to pull me to my feet and I followed her. "Can you walk or do you need me to aid you for the rest of the way?"

"It's fine, mother. I think I can walk just fine,"

"I'm sorry, dear. After the mass I'll clean it for you and we'll treat it," she pinched my cheeks smiling at me. I returned her smile, although I was inwardly cursing, knowing if I'd still been in my bed enjoying the morning sleep, I wouldn't have been injured.

What if your injury is the Lord punishing you for hating on the mass, and wishing you could sleep more? These thoughts suddenly took over my mind and my heart beat spiked up at thoughts of facing more punishments in the future for being an insolent child and for not being grateful for the Lord's protection. Scared by whatever consequences I'll be made to face, or worse, the eternal damnation that will await me if I should eventually die without confessing my sins, I quickly murmured a prayer of forgiveness, hoping mother Theresa didn't hear me. If she did, she didn't mention it, as we continued to the church, where the service had already started.