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When Hell Meets Heaven Prologue

The peal of bells from the nunnery tower caused one to reflect for a moment on the tenacity of the sound that had been resonating for centuries. In a way, it cleverly complimented the existing order of nuns established seven hundred years, who remained there despite the throw away world around them. Barring the odd war and religious insurgence from the local populace, the order had lived out their lives and, if not flourished in the confines, certainly survived.


Wasn't surviving enough. Particularly as the human race had a hell bent suicide mission automatically installed at birth. From the point of view of an outsider or alien from another planet, they'd think we had that tormented structure in our lives. In particular, our treatment of our fellow man and the hand that fed us...our planet. Those bells didn't stop and hadn't through thick and thin. This perhaps signified the order's fortitude, a little like the true nature of the human beast. We survived somehow or another. At times it wasn't prudent to ask how, merely thank whomever you prayed to, if you did, for that second millionth chance.


Darkness had eroded any natural light. The shadowy strands of moon glow that led the way toward the main part of the order's building, danced, with what might be called frightening images of gargoyles and immobile faces of the past. Following such a path was, if you thought about it, as brave as facing Satan in his own house. It was hard to figure that, in a hundred yards those imposing images and half-lights that lit the way to the entrance would be flooded with artificial light. Almost, some might say, like following the path to heaven, particularly inside the going out of the darkness into the light. Cobbled paths treated the feet with a somewhat haphazard meandering route that had the balls of the feet protesting for the smooth cement surface they preferred. Alas, it wasn't to be...not here anyway. Luxury, even as perverse as a decent pathway, wasn't the norm for this particular order. The only true luxury was the nurturing of the soul, at least that's what this order considered paramount.


Cascadian Nuns were an old order of a long ceased practicing European faith; the fact that this one nunnery survived today was perhaps testament to a long forgotten ethos that our modern views of the world had totally given up. The fact remained, these nuns devoted their lives to helping the sick soul. How that translates to modern day speak is a matter of opinion. Some would say it was the equivalent of herbal medicine for psychiatry. They lived cloistered lives and had little contact with the outside world. The only outsiders allowed access to the buildings and property were invited and on rare occasion a government official or two. In all the years, the order had been in the location; it had never fallen foul of whatever administration was in power and wanted to keep it like that.


As with all old buildings, at some stage, something happens that requires attention and the only people left to call are the ones you really wish you didn't need. Often these people left behind more than repairs?


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