Sister Cross

Child Thief

[art by https://weirdpolis.tumblr.com/] 

    Each night the sisters went into their cells; but there they did not remain long. Sister Therese of the Cross knelt to pray and as she rose from the floor, yellow rose petals swirled around her.

    "May Our Lady protect you" intoned Mother, as each nun left their cell and walked past her.

    They left the convent in pairs. Sister Cross, as she was called, was joined by Sister Michael. They were headed out to investigate a demon sighting at a local park.

    "So, what's the story with this one?" Sister Cross asked, as they walked down the dark, narrow streets.

    "Stealing children." Sister Michael shuddered. They both crossed themselves, whispered a silent prayer for the victims and their families.

...

    The park appeared empty when they arrived. The playground equipment looked normal. There wasn't anything out of place. The nuns retreated, hiding themselves behind a tall shrub, to wait for the demon.

    Screeeeeeeeeeueeeeeeeeeek

    The swings had begun to move on their own. Sister Cross made sure that her mask was firmly attached. Sister Michael adjusted her veil. They crept out from behind the shrub.

    "Don't interrupt their play." A feminine voice whispered.

    "Show yourself!" Sister Michael demanded.

    Before them appeared a creature just about their height. It was worm-like in appearance with no limbs or face. It squirmed as it stood before them. Strange feathers covered patches of it's body while the rest oozed with a foul slime.

    "Okay, can we take that demand back?" Sister Cross asked, disgusted by the sight of the demon.

    "Leave my children alone!" Shrieked the demon as Sister Michael made a move toward the swing set.

    "They aren't your children!" Sister Michael unsheathed her sword and swung at the demon.

    The demon dodged and then countered, with razor sharp feathers flying from it's body. Sister Michael avoided most of them. Meanwhile, Sister Cross sent her own sharp projectiles at the demon. The thorns stuck into a patch of feathers, limiting their usefulness.

    Another swing of the sword landed and a gross slimy substance oozed out of the gash. Sister Cross materialized a rose and crushing it, produced an oil that would heal the cuts her sister had gotten from the demon's feathers.

    Sister Cross rushed past; using the oil quickly before getting out of the way. She flung more thorns at the demon, aiming for where she imagined the face would be on any other creature. She approached the swing set, which was now silent and unmoving.

    "Are you here still?" She asked.

    "Yes," a young child's voice replied, "And we're scared."

    A loud scream made Sister Cross look back toward the battle. The demon had been stabbed and, after screaming in pain, had died. Sister Michael had sharp feathers sticking out of her habit but was otherwise unharmed.

    "Miss?" a child's voice inquired.

    Sister Cross turned to the voice and instead of seeing nothing, all three of the missing children could be seen standing before her.

    "Oh, thank God!" Sister Cross exclaimed.

    "Can we go home now?"

    "Yes!"