The Nun

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I don’t remember my name; it was lost in history as I used so many aliases to protect my identity. I was born somewhere in Europe around a hundred years before Jesus Christ. I don’t know the date or who my parents were. I was told my mother died in childbirth and my father then left me on the doorstep of a neighbor. I lived there until I was kicked out due to my special gift, a gift that is both a curse and a blessing, for I am a Necromancer.How does it work, you may wonder? Well, there are two types of necromancers. The ancient ones, like myself and the taught ones. I and my ilk can simply by touching the dead person’s heart and brain read its thoughts that linger in the dead once their soul has left the body. Sometimes we could reach the soul, but we prefer not to do it as it stops it from moving on.The taught necromancers use spells, sacrifices, and such, not a very pretty sight and not very exact. I have always thought it was a bad idea to teach people the art of Necromancy. If you are not gifted with it, you shouldn’t be meddling in such dangerous and sometimes emotional work.I have worked for kings, queens, emperors, farmers, merchants, and anyone else who might need my services. I don’t do it if I feel there is malice in play. Some do whatever they are paid for but I try to keep some ethics and morals in my work. To invade a dead person’s most private thoughts and feelings is invasive enough; one doesn’t have to be a dick about it as well.This is the first of many stories I will tell you from my adventures, some will be happy, some sad, but all will be filled with sex and wild experiences from across the world and through the millennium.The NunI was in France just after the French Revolution. It was kaçak iddaa a time of upheaval and many dead. I was thriving as so many wanted to pay me to find out where the dead aristocrats and landowners had hidden their money. I wasn’t cherishing this kind of work but a man has to eat, drink and survive so I did what was asked of me.One day, as I was walking along a country lane enjoying the evening sun setting over the fields of wine. I came upon the body of a nun. She was young and lay by side of the road. Her robe neatly around her body and her hands clasped over her chest. I bent down and touched her bare skin, feeling her body heat. She had been dead for a few hours only. I felt around her body and realized she had either been run down by a wagon of sorts or trampled by a horse. Whoever had been involved had had the decency to put her to the side, but not to contact the authorities, a coward.She had a pretty face, oval in shape with almond eyes and a dark complexion. I figured she was of mixed blood, maybe a bastard child sent to a cloister. I gently pushed my hand in under her robe to where the ribs end while placing my other hand on her head. Gently I began to push and squeeze my fingers and my nails slid into the tissue of her front and through her skull into her brain.I shivered as I made the connection to her memories. Her name had been Marie and she was just twenty-one years of age. My eyes rolled back as I immersed myself in her memories and a smile played on my lips as I learned about her last days of life.“Marie, Father Luis is coming today and you need to clean up the guest room.”She hated the voice of the old hag, screeching and dry. Mother Christine was as old as time itself and never said a kaçak bahis kind word to anyone. She ran them like her personal slaves and between her and the praying, there wasn’t much time to be by oneself.“Yes, mother. I will get right to it.”She walked up the three flights of stairs and entered the guest room. The dust had collected on the stone floor and on the rough table. The crucifix on the wall above the bed wasn’t straight. Marie began to clean and her mind drifted off to Father Luis. He was a kind old man, and she looked at him like the grandfather she had never known. He would tell her stories of his travels to the holy land and beyond, about peoples and tribes far, far away that didn’t believe in the Holy Church or Jesus Christ. His work was the most important to him but whenever he was back in France he took his time to visit the nuns and monks in the area where he lived.Marie collected her broom and went back downstairs and when she reached the bottom she heard the lunch bell ring. She dropped off the broom and rushed to the dining hall where most of the other nuns were already seated. Mother Christine gave her a harsh look before saying grace. The food was a thin soup with potatoes and other vegetables from the garden. To drink there was water. Marie had never tried wine or juice made out of apples or pears.“I’m so excited, I wonder what Father Luis’s sermon will be about this time,” said Sister Anna who sat opposite Marie. She was the same age and had been sent to the cloister when her father had found her in the stable with the stable boy doing dirty and unholy things. Marie had never dared ask exactly what Anna had been doing. But she had one more year left before she could go back home after being illegal bahis there for three.“I have no idea, probably about being a good human being, tender to the poor, the usual.”Anna drank from her glass. “I guess. But he is such a wonderful old man.”After lunch, the nuns cleaned up the dining hall and then went to their rooms for prayer and rest. During the afternoon they were divided up into groups, some tendered the garden, others made trinkets that they sold in the market. Marie loved to be outside so she always offered to work in the garden.Father Louis arrived early the following morning and all the nuns and Mother Christine were outside to greet him. He didn’t travel alone due to his old age and his assistant, a young monk named Albert helped him off the horse.“Welcome, welcome Father Luis,” gushed Mother Christine and kissed his hand.“Now, now, stand up, and let me look at you. Still looking like the day we met, you haven’t aged a year, Sister.”Mother Christine actually blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl. She might be rough with the nuns but she was like melting butter in the hands of the Father.When he saw Marie he walked up to her and put his hand on her cheek. “My child, I am pleased to see you are in good health. Why don’t you and I take a walk later in the afternoon? I have much to tell you.”Marie watched him go inside followed by Albert and Mother Christine. She was so excited that he had chosen her over all the other nuns. She and the others went back to their work. Marie was ecstatic as she worked along with the others and wondered what exciting stories the old man would have to tell her this time.As the sun began to set she met Father Luis at the gate and they began to walk towards the little river a few hundred yards away. The Father liked to sit there and look and listen to the water floating by. It was a warm evening with no wind and the birds were chirping in the bushes and trees.

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