Slutty Little Nun

THE shadows stretched long and thin across the cobblestones behind St. Jude’s, painting the ancient brickwork in shades of bruised purple and deepest indigo. A crisp autumn wind, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke, rustled through the dying ivy that clung to the church’s rear wall. Sister Susan, her wimple a stark white against the encroaching gloom, clutched her rosary beads, their cool, smooth surfaces offering little comfort. Her heart hammered a ...