"O the sisters of mercy they are not departed or gone (...)"
Leonard Cohen, "The sisters of Mercy" (full lyrics here).
- Hail Mary. - a voice said over the intercom at the cloister convent.
- She was a great virgin, but a better person. - I replied, trying to confuse-guess the right answer, since it was obviously some kind of key code and "Full of grace" seemed all too obvious.
- I came by appointment to see the incorrupt body of Sor Ority.
- Ah! Come in, cross the church up to the altar, then take the right door into the refectorium. - and the door buzzed open.
And there I was, walking up the aisle, all alone, in a 500-year-old church. Couldn't help humming the wedding march.
The refectorium was a small austere room, there was no other door and barely anything else but a really big piece of timber protected by an iron lattice that portrayed a nun. Evidently there was a specific vow forbidding nuns to play in professional basketball leagues and/or wrestling, or else the giant nun would have ruled the place. While I was thinking what possible ring name the giant wrestler nun could have (Nun Hogan? The Ultimate Warrior... of Christ?), the painting slid open with a deaf sound. 2 nuns were revealed, one standing, one lying inside a transparent coffin. Judging which one looked better was not an easy task, the alive one being ashen and wrinkled to the extreme, a forgotten but profitable niche market of beauty creams and lotions as nuns are. The nun lying was way less scary, if you forgot the fact that she had been dead for more than 500 years and that she was probably a vampire, given the good condition in which her corpse could be seen. Or else the transparent coffin was better at conservation than any fridge or freezer invented by man. Would they allow me to put in some fresh vegetables inside to test my theory? Probably not, and I wouldn't dare getting near that coffin without garlic and a stake anyway.
Couldn't help wondering whether dedicating your life to prayer in order to be a saint was worth it, given the fact that your body would end up exposed in some sort of freak show, or else disassembled in little pieces kept in small reliquaries.