As we emerged from the chapel, the warm sunlight cast a gentle glow on our faces, illuminating the serene atmosphere of the prayer hall. The scent of incense and old wooden pews lingered in the air, a familiar comfort to us all. The soft murmur of prayers and the gentle rustle of habits created a soothing melody that seemed to envelop us in a sense of peace. Sister Benedicta, with her kind smile and gentle eyes, led us out, her hands clasped together in a gesture of guidance. Her habit rustled softly as she walked, a soothing sound that seemed to match the rhythm of our footsteps.
I walked beside her, my eyes fixed on the path ahead, my mind still reeling from the noon prayer. The words of the psalms echoed in my mind, a gentle reminder of the solace and peace that only prayer could bring. The chapel, with its stunning stained-glass windows and intricate stone carvings, seemed to fade into the background as I pondered the mysteries of faith. As the oldest of the kids, I had grown accustomed to taking on a leadership role, helping to guide the younger ones. It was a responsibility I took seriously, one that I had grown into over the years.
"Okay, kids, let's head back to our room and get ready for lunch," Sister Benedicta said, her voice soft and soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer's day. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she smiled, her gaze encompassing each of us.
I nodded, falling into step beside her, my eyes scanning the group of children. Francis, a bright-eyed 9-year-old, caught my gaze, and I smiled, remembering the countless times we had played together in the orphanage's courtyard. His mop of curly hair and infectious grin always seemed to brighten up even the dullest of days. The younger ones, with their wide eyes and curious gazes, seemed to look up to me, and I felt a sense of pride and responsibility wash over me.
Just as we were about to turn the corner, Sister Margaret appeared before us, her expression serious. Her eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if searching for something. "Sister Benedicta, Mother Superior has requested to see...," she paused, her eyes locking onto mine, "the oldest one."
Sister Benedicta turned to me, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "That would be you, dear. You may go with Sister Margaret." Her voice was gentle, but I detected a hint of concern beneath the surface.
I nodded, feeling a flutter of uncertainty in my chest. What could Mother Superior want with me? Had I done something wrong? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced at Francis, who looked up at me with wide eyes, as if sensing my unease.
"May I go, Sister?" I asked, seeking permission, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sister Benedicta smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course, dear. Go with Sister Margaret. And don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing serious." Her words were reassuring, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of trepidation that had settled in my stomach.
I followed Sister Margaret, my heart beating slightly faster with anticipation. What did Mother Superior want to discuss with me? I wondered, my mind racing with possibilities. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, the silence between us growing thicker with each step. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls, a steady beat that seemed to match the rhythm of my heart.
As we walked, Sister Margaret's silence only added to my growing curiosity. I couldn't help but feel a sense of importance, being summoned by Mother Superior herself. Little did I know, my life was about to take a dramatic turn, one that would change everything forever. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead.
As we reached the door to Mother Superior's office, Sister Margaret gestured for me to enter, then she closed the door behind me, enveloping me in an aura of anticipation. The room was dimly lit, with only a sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the polished wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hint of incense. Mother Superior sat behind her desk, her head bent in concentration, scribbling away on a piece of paper with a fountain pen. She seemed so absorbed in her task that she hadn't even noticed my arrival.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence, "Good afternoon, Mother Superior," I said, my voice respectful and measured, trying to break the silence that filled the room.
She looked up, startled, her eyes locking onto mine with a hint of surprise. "Oh, you're here, Gabriel. Come and have a seat," she said, gesturing to a chair across from her desk, her voice warm and inviting.
I sat down, my eyes fixed on hers, as she returned to her writing. Her pen scratched across the paper, the sound echoing through the silent room like a gentle drumbeat. Finally, she closed the book, her eyes rising to meet mine with a sense of determination.
"Gabriel, I know you love the life you've grown up with here," she began, her voice measured and deliberate, choosing her words carefully. "You've been a part of this community for as long as you can remember, and it's only natural that you feel a sense of belonging. But I have another plan for you, one that will please God and enrich your life in ways you never thought possible."
She paused, studying me intently, as if searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt.
"You're going to leave us in a week's time," she continued, her voice firm but gentle. "You'll be transferred to a monastery, where you'll serve God for the rest of your life. It's a great honor, Gabriel, one that few are chosen for."
I felt a jolt of surprise, my mind reeling with the implications. A monastery? Leave the only home I had ever known? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me.
Before I could process this information, Sister Margaret burst into the office, her face flushed with urgency, her eyes wide with fear.
"Mother Superior, you have to see this!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion, as she rushed towards the desk.
Mother Superior's expression turned stern, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it, Sister?" she asked, her voice firm but controlled.
Sister Margaret hesitated, glancing at me before focusing on Mother Superior, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's...it's about Gabriel's transfer. I don't think it's a going to happen," she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. "There are people out here looking for him, they even came with a picture that looks so identical to him."
Mother Superior's expression turned icy, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice cold and detached. "This is a great opportunity for Gabriel. He'll be serving God, dedicating his life to prayer and contemplation."
Sister Margaret took a deep breath, her voice shaking with emotion. "But what about this people who have come for him, maybe he's their son, they have a clear picture of him? We can't just send him away without considering the risks. What if God wanted this to happen right now, What if?"