Nun of My Dreams Part 12

A Nun’s Testimony by Sis. Charlotte Keckler

Continuation…

Suddenly I awoke to the realization of what I had done. With a shock I knew that I would probably be held accountable for her death. There was no way to imagine what they might do to me because of it. Frantically I grabbed a stomach pump and worked furiously to save her. I began massaging her with cold water. At long last her respiration and blood pressure dropped to normal levels and she drifted off into a deep sleep. I could relax again and reflect on my own narrow escape.
I knew that in a part of the deep tunnel system under the convent, there was a place where I had often heard horrible screams. They came from behind a heavy locked door. Mother Superior had repeatedly warned us not to go there. This was a rather pointless admonition since none of us had any keys, however my curiousity about the place was overwhelming.
With my patient finally out of danger and the convent asleep, I remembered. Mother Superior’s keys were in her desk, so I grabbed them and raced downstairs. Two stories underground, by the flickering candlelight, I found the forbidden door which I had wondered about. I fumbled nervously with the big ring of keys and finally found the right one. The huge door swung quietly open, revealing a hall lined with nineteen tiny cells. All had barred windows in the doors.
I gasped in horror as I peered inside the cells to see white, ravaged and drawn faces of little nuns with whom I had eaten, prayed and worked. Each had disappeared suddenly and without any explanation. One in particular I recognized and asked her how long she had been there and other questions. Her dull, lifeless eyes were glazed with awful terror, but she would say nothing at all. Paralyzing fear rules the convent and these prisoners did not know where the Mother Superior might be hiding. None would speak lest worse things come upon them. I went from one to the other but always the response was the same, frightened silence.
Toward the end of the hall, several cells emitted a sickening stench and I became violently ill and nauseated when I peeped inside. All of the captives here had long chains wrapped around their waists, which prevented them from being able to sit or lie down. They were slumped in the chains, reeking with their own urine and body wastes, for they had been condemned to a slow death, with little water and no food. Some were already dead and the awful smell of death was there.
Their “crimes” consisted of persistent infractions of convent rules or they were unfortunate enough to have had a nervous or mental breakdown because of the pressure of the cloistered life. This was the way such matters were handled, a hidden garbage dump for the wreckage of the convent.
Violently ill, my head swimming and mind reeling, I staggered from the chamber of horrors and relocked the door. Hurriedly I went back upstairs to my charge, who was still sleeping peacefully. I was relieved to find that her blood pressure and respiration were still normal. She slept late into the next day and I remained with her for three more days.
Mother Superior felt so much better that I was rewarded with a six week assignment to kitchen duty. This was a rare privilege for it was on the first floor. Kitchen walls were lined with peep holes and there was no way to know when some nun or priest was peeping through them. With this constant surveillance, the slightest infraction of the rules, especially stealing food, could be discovered and dealt with quickly and harshly. This contributed to the overall sense of being in a hostile prison at all times. Still I was glad to be there.
There was a double locked outside door in the kitchen which opened onto the courtyard. On a landing by the door was the spot where we kept the garbage cans. On the third day of my assignment there, someone rattled a garbage can. The six of us were startled and jumped. When you work and live in an atmosphere where silence is constantly required, you become very sensitive to even ordinary sounds which others would never notice. We whirled around and saw a man who was replacing a full garbage can with an empty one over in the corner.
Quickly recovering our composure, we dropped our eyes and busily returned to our work, fearful that we might have been observed. We were taught that the bodies of the priests and bishops were sanctified and holy. However, all other men were unsanctified and if we were caught looking at them we could receive severe punishment for this sin.
Suddenly my mind stirred with an exciting but dangerous idea. Perhaps I could smuggle a note to this man! This presented many problems however, I had no pencil or paper, for these were not allowed, but hanging over the work table in the kitchen was a pad with a pencil chained to it. This was used to list items running in short supply in the kitchen. I managed to snatch a scrap of dirty paper and at odd moments would scribble a few words on it with the pencil. By the end of the day I had only been able to write about two and a half lines, appealing for help.

To be continued….