English Version: Sands & Sparrow

24

A sleek black car, its polished surface reflecting the warm colors of the setting sun, stopped in front of the church. The ancient structure exuded serenity with its weathered stones and complex carvings. The chauffeur, dressed in uniform, descended from the driver's seat and opened the rear door.

Margo Sinclair alighted from the car. The stairs leading to the church awaited her. A gentle breeze touched her face, carrying the scent of incense and blooming flowers. She surveyed the surroundings before entering the church, her eyes taking in every detail with keen interest. Stalls selling colorful fruits, fresh vegetables, and fragrant flowers along the street were spaced appropriately, creating a vibrant display of local life. The neighborhood was tidy, resembling a quaint European town, with old houses and buildings dating back to the Spanish era.

Margo observed the house of God; it was majestic, with a gigantic bell hanging above, its bronze surface patinated with age. The church doors, inspired by the medieval period, were made of solid oak, intricately carved with biblical scenes. In front of the church stood a statue of an angel in the center of a fountain, water trickling softly from its outstretched hands.

As Margo walked on the mortar pavement, her heels clicking softly, she disturbed a flock of pigeons. The birds took to the air in a flurry of feathers, their wings catching the light as they scattered. The sky was turning deep red as the sunset hues spread across the horizon, painting the clouds in shades of gold and pink.

At the church entrance, a blind gypsy named Sybil sat, her hands plucking at the strings of a unique sitar. Her rich and haunting voice harmonized perfectly with the instrument, the melody seeming to dance on the afternoon breeze. Her habit was serenading the wind, finding comfort for her old soul in the music she created.

An old nun patiently awaited Margo at the top of the steps. Sister Clara, a seventy-year-old Spanish nun, stood with quiet dignity. Her light-brown eyes held a warmth that immediately put one at ease. Her tanned skin spoke of a life spent primarily outdoors, and despite her average height and slim build, she radiated an aura of strength and compassion.

"Buenas tardes, Señorita Sinclair," Sister Clara greeted, her crisp Spanish accent making each word firm yet easily understood.

Margo responded with a smile, a rare softening of her composed features. "Cómo está, Hermana Clara? Estoy feliz de visitarla," she replied, her Spanish flowing smoothly.

"I'm glad you came, Miss Sinclair," Sister Clara said, switching to English with practiced ease.

The heavy oak doors swung open with a resonant creak, their sound echoing through the empty church. As they entered, their footsteps echoed on the ancient stone pavement. Disturbed by their presence, birds flew across the vaulted ceiling, their wings catching the light streaming through the stained-glass windows. The windows cast brilliant, multicolored reflections on the floor, creating a kaleidoscope of light that seemed to dance as they walked.

As they walked down the hallway, their steps echoing in the peaceful atmosphere, Margo turned to Sister Clara. "How are they doing?" she inquired, her voice low but filled with genuine concern.

Sister Clara's face lit up with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "They are doing well...Miss Sinclair," she replied, her voice filled with quiet joy. "They have forgotten their past, and the children are happy."

Sister Clara's role was to take care of the survivors, especially the victims of child trafficking. After their memories were erased, they were protected by the church and encouraged to begin a new life. She had known Margo for a long time. The nun herself was a survivor of the sex trade. Like Dr. Howard, her passion lay in rescuing and caring for the children. Sister Clara never hesitated; she always completed the job.