Gotha's Embrace Day 01: Ashley’s Arrival

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of what I hope to be a long-running series into a particular fetish of mine: Lovecraftian Erotic Horror. It starts slow, so if you are looking for something fast and for instant gratification, then this story is probably not for you. In any case, to the reader: I do hope that you enjoy the twisted little universe that I've carved out here for myself for others like me. It is a tale of the strange and the unfamiliar, at finding eroticism in dark places that cannot be fully understood.

Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are always welcome. And with that, enjoy!

Day 1 Ashley's Arrival

I felt a chill as the bus swerved under a mountain's shadow. Outside the window, a sea of green streaked past underneath, silent and still, as we hurtled along a cliff's edge. The fading sunlight illuminated their boughs with dying rays that seemed only to deepen the shadows between them.

One wrong move with the speed we're going, and there's a good chance that we'll plummet to our deaths,

I thought morbidly. I glanced over at our driver Mihai as he deftly maneuvered the age-old leather-bound wheel of the rickety vehicle, seemingly unconcerned with the precipitous drop edging the narrow dirt packed road.

I hope he knows what he's doing.

I caught his eyes flashing at me through the rearview mirror, and I could see a grin appear on his face. He laughed, a ragged chortling sound. "Scared, missus?" He asked through a heavy Slavic accent. "No problem! These roads, I know very well!" He laughed again and thankfully turned his attention back to the road, which continued to wind haphazardly.

I sighed and blew a strand of blonde hair away from my face as I turned back to the window. Two hours since the last town, if you could call it that, and we were now officially in the middle of nowhere. My phone battery had died long since then, not that it mattered, since there was probably no cell signal out here anyway. I still couldn't believe that I was halfway across the world, thousands of miles away from home, in such a short period of time. A pang of homesickness hit me at the thought. I missed my friends. I missed my life. But most of all, I missed my Jason, or Jay-man, as I liked to affectionately call him. I missed his cute smile, his silly quips, his infectious easy-going attitude, but especially the way he always seemed to say something inappropriate at the most inopportune moment. Now everything seemed so far away.

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Ashley Brooks, and I'm your typical, American, small-town girl. Here you would expect (if this was any Hollywood movie) that this young, innocent girl might be wild-eyed and lost in a big city, trying to juggle school work and a barista job while making her way in the world, but you'd be wrong. Instead, this girl had been uprooted and displaced to another country an ocean away, not of her choice, but of her parents. What a shock that had been, when I arrived home late that one night, only for them to be waiting for me on the living room couch, arms crossed, to deliver the news.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't normally hate my parents, but things haven't exactly been peachy over the past year. Ever since they joined that new Church in town, they've become increasingly restrictive and controlling, and it didn't help that I had stopped going with them altogether. Then came the inquisition into my everyday life.

Ash, don't you think that you're going out too much? Ash, don't you think you should cover up a bit more? Ash, why didn't you tell us that you had a boyfriend?

I don't know how they had found out about that last one, but it definitely infuriated them. As you may have guessed, I was brought up in an ultra-conservative household.

All this led up to that night when they sternly stated to me that I would be spending the summer in Europe, in a far-away monastery sanctioned by the Church, to reconnect with my faith and to 'save my soul from eternal damnation.' Or something along those lines. Otherwise I could say goodbye to college. After the initial shock wore off, I had shouted, begged, cried, and sulked, all to no avail. Their mind was made up, they said, and I was going to go. End of story. I spent the rest of the night throwing a fit in my room, only to break down sobbing afterwards.

The following week I sullenly went through the motions of a normal life. So much for spending my final year of high school summer travelling, partying, and hanging out with my friends. Jay-man had tried to make me feel better.

It's only for a summer,

he had said, smiling in that idiotic way of his that seemed to soften his squarely chiseled face,

I'll still be here when you come back.

I had glared at him, but that had only served to tighten the knot in my stomach. On the last day, he gave me a heart shaped pendant on a silver chain, wrapped it around my neck at the airport, and told me that he loved me.

Take care,

he had said, then kissed me on my cheek, mindful of the disapproving glances that my parents threw his way. After hugging him back, I had basically stormed off without so much as waving goodbye to my parents. I knew it was immature and juvenile, but I didn't care. If they wanted me gone, I was gone. Without looking back.

The bus swerved again, jolting me out of my unhappy thoughts. "Not far now, you can see the monastery already!" Mihai pointed with one hand into the distance, the other terrifyingly swerving the wheel of the bus left and right, barely keeping us on the road and not in hell. He looked back at me and the rest of the passengers on the bus, grinning, while I ironically prayed to God that we didn't fly off a cliff.

The lady on the other side of the aisle seemed to share similar thoughts. "Thank you, Mihai, but can you please keep your eyes on the road ahead?" She spoke with a taut British accent, her tone elevated, clearly trying to stay calm. Her auburn locks of hair, swaying to and fro, framed her rounded, oval-shaped face, wrinkled only slightly with age, while her normally warm brown eyes were now wide in concern. Her hands gripped the seat in front of her, tense with strain, as the bus lurched onwards.

I think her name was Sophia, or Sophie.

I hadn't put much effort into making introductions earlier, given my mood, although from what I remembered, the lady had been very affable in hers. All that geniality was gone now, however, as she clung on for dear life.

Glancing back, I ventured to see how the other passengers were doing. The tall blonde girl sitting behind me, her long hair tied in a high ponytail that swayed precariously, seemed remarkably unconcerned with her surroundings. If she were anywhere else, she could have easily been confused for some model, with a sharply angled face, distinctly arched brows, and markedly high cheekbones, all combined into an outwardly aloof demeanor. Her sharp blue eyes stared straight ahead in an unreadable expression. She had not spoken a word to anyone during the whole trip.

Not one much for introductions either,

I thought.

On the other side of the bus, behind Sophia, or Sophie, was a woman dressed as a nun, who was at least akin to someone that might be traveling to a monastery. She had been in quiet contemplation throughout the whole of our journey so far, and only now opened her eyes to survey the horizon for our destination. Behind her, occupying the last row, and having slept most of the way, was a small-framed Asian girl, now finally stirred awake by both the swerving bus and Mihai's exclamation. Long, black, tousled hair obscured a good portion of her delicate, pale face, from which a pair of large hazel eyes, clouded with fatigue, blinked out from. I couldn't recall her's or the nun's names either.

Turning back to the front and squinting into the distance, I could now barely make out the slight shapes of stone towers peeking from the forest top. The road had straightened along the final stretch, although it was no less bumpy.

Not far now.

I thought, not at all eager to start my new life in an uptight, remote monastery, dedicated to all things boring. The sun to my left had just started its descent into the mountains, lighting the distant buildings in a glorious visage of flagrant colors. As we got closer, the bus thankfully started to slow.

Soon, we rolled up to a heavy iron-clad gate, tipped with sharp spikes, surrounded by high walls composed of moss-covered stone, which appeared to have stood there for generations on end. The bus made a final, lurching stop, and Mihai looked back at us again with that foolish iconic grin of his. "Made it!" He laughed emphatically, "Everyone off! You've arrived!" With that, the passenger door of the bus creaked open, and Mihai leapt off the bus to greet the three figures waiting for us at the gate entrance. I wish I could have shared his enthusiasm.

Sophia, or Sophie, was the first to climb up from her seat and head towards the exit. I gingerly followed, suddenly mindful of my body, every bone jarring and aching from being jostled about for the better part of the past few hours. As I stepped off the bus, the cool, mountain air was refreshingly welcome. I looked up and around, taking in my surroundings. Giant coniferous trees, imposing in their height, rose like eternal sentinels about the exterior of the rough-hewn stone wall guarding the monastery perimeter. The dirt underneath was littered with pine cones, needles, and a variety of other cast-offs from the surrounding vegetation. A not altogether unpleasant earthly aroma filled my nostrils, a scented harmony of aged tree bark, damp moss, and petrichor. However, apart from the movements of the other passengers getting off from the bus, the entire forest was eerily silent.

Looking over at the gate, I saw Sophia (or Sophie), speaking with a thin elderly man. He had a broad face with dark deep-set eyes under bushy eyebrows, creased with aged lines, his head topped with a bundle of wispy white hair. He looked almost like a kindly grandfather, nodding slowly as he smiled. Beside him stood a woman, not quite as old, but not young either. While the older man was warm in his expression, hers was the exact opposite. With a practiced straight-backed posture and a face that spoke of years of unquestioned authority, I surmised that she must be the Abbess, or some older nun in charge of the monastery proper. Icy azure eyes glared from under tight-knit brows; her long, angled face, which ended in a pointed chin, was wrapped in a spotless white coif. She was tall too, a good few inches taller than me, and definitely had the appearance of someone that would be difficult to please.

Yet the most startling figure was the giant of a man towering over and behind the Abbess. At over seven feet in height, with a blank expression on his pale, expressionless face, the man was an imposing sight. His black, watery eyes stared vacantly out at nothing above a large pudgy nose. His lips seemed sealed shut, and there was a certain stiffness about him that was almost unnatural. I repressed a shudder, and instead turned my attention to the kindly old grandfather now looking over my way.

"Hello dear," The old man's voice was deep and sonorous, and I wondered why I couldn't hear him earlier, "you must be Ashley. We are delighted to welcome you to our humble abode, and we hope you will enjoy your stay. Don't be shy now, come forward, come forward. I am Father Gregory, and this is Mother Prosperine." He gestured to the Abbess, who flicked me a quick, perfunctory glance. Noticing my trepidation regarding the immobile behemoth behind them, Father Gregory smiled. "Don't be intimidated by Vlad now, he's a simple but gentle giant, and you'd be surprised at how capable he is. Don't judge a book by its cover, as the saying goes!" He turned to look up at the towering ogre behind him, then moved down the line to welcome the other guests. One by one, I learned that the blonde girl was Veronika, the nun was Isabella, the Asian girl was Seo-Yeon, and the British lady was Sophie (not Sophia).

"It is getting dark," the sternly faced Mother Prosperine spoke up after all the introductions were made, her tone practiced and tempered, "Why don't we go inside and let our guests get settled?" She gestured her head towards the bus. "Vlad, bring our guests' belongings to their chambers and the other supplies to the storeroom, if you please." She coolly looked over at the driver afterwards, "Mihai, thank you for your services. Will you be dining with us tonight?"

Mihai grinned sheepishly and made a show of surprise at his watch. "Wish I could, Missus, but I must be getting home! Getting late and dark, and it is a long drive back! But... same time next week?" Even though his jaunty attitude had been somewhat grating, part of me was sorry to see Mihai go. He had been quite talkative during the beginning of the drive, telling us all about his lovely country and cheerfully showing us pictures of his wife and two daughters. When it came to the monastery though, he had been a bit more cagey, muttering something about superstitions and local gossip. In truth, the only reason I didn't want him to leave was because he was our only thread back to civilization, and with him gone, I'd be truly stranded. Vlad was already unloading burlap sacks, large wooden crates, and an assortment of luggage from the back of the bus. Looking back one last time at Mihai and waving goodbye, I hurriedly followed the entourage as they made their way inside the heavy, metal gate.

I didn't know what I expected out of a monastery, but I was a little overwhelmed as we stepped onto the grounds. A bare central yard, which must have been over a football field wide and about just a long, opened up before me. The only feature in this barren center was a compacted dirt path leading straight to the imposing entrance of an enormous, stone building, which I concluded must be the church itself. Tall parapets lined the upper sections of the edifice, with sharp towers tipped with black iron crosses. Along the northern side were a series of conjoined low-rise structures, with small brutalist windows peeking from the sharply angled exteriors. The whole complex gave off a daunting presence, as if it were constructed for the sole purpose of extinguishing any joy or pleasure.

Looking away from the towering sight, I noticed that the church was not the only building around. To my right, there stood a large gothic manor, equally striking and ominous as the church itself. Heavy gray curtains shaded the windows under pointed arches, complete with strident turrets and diagonal rooftops. From this distance, it was difficult to make out any particular features surrounding the house, but even so, it seemed as welcoming as a crypt. To my left, closer to me, were a series of colonnades, hiding what appeared to be at least some greenery behind their guarded exterior. All in all, the entire monastery grounds were expansive, and I couldn't help but marvel at how it had been constructed all the way out here, miles from anything.

Overcoming my initial surprise, I tuned back to the present as Father Gregory was expounding the history of the monastery. "The Church, as you see in front of you, was initially constructed in the late 1700's, although the foundations predate it by at least a hundred years. We do not have a complete record of the original construction, but it is assumed that much of what you see here was built from the quarries out back, some distance towards the mountains. Over time, the original structure has been expanded and fitted to accommodate the changing times, including more private quarters, a contemporary kitchen, and of course, better sanitation. You will find that although electricity is available, our generators are somewhat dated, and so don't be alarmed when rolling blackouts occur when we need to conserve power."

Just great.

Father Gregory paused. "I know you must have many questions regarding our order, so let me just provide a little background to start. As you may well have surmised, given our remote setting, it has been difficult building up a local congregation. Indeed, our faith has not been as widespread as some others. We are attempting to correct that now, as you may undoubtedly have noticed from the missions that we've sent abroad recently. The undertaking has unfortunately left only a few remaining of our order within these walls, leaving the entire monastery regrettably empty. In fact, you are amongst the first that we have invited here to partake in the study of our faith, from all corners of the world, so that you may bring our teachings back to your homes."

Isabella was paying rapt attention to Father Gregory with a frown on her face. "Padre lo siento, forgive me for being forward, but this is the first time we have even heard of your order. Surely you still practice the original scriptures of la Católica Romana?"

Father Gregory looked back on the shorter nun with a smile on his lips, his eyes creased with serpentine lines. "Our faith historically evolved from a blend of Orthodoxy and Protestant schools over time. We may be isolated, but that has only meant much self-contemplation and meditation over the ages with little outside influence. Rest assured, you will find many familiar traditions amongst the practices we preach."

"Sí Padre, but there are still so many differences compared to..."

"Be at ease, Sister." Father Gregory's voice was firm. "We do not intend to challenge or oppose the other faiths, only to support and strengthen what already exists. Our faith is not confrontational, and we do not seek to rival your Catholic viewpoints. Please, you yourself have come hither with the purpose of exchanging ideas and to learn from one another. We ask only that you keep an open mind, a loving heart, and a virtuous soul."

Sister Isabella went quiet, although she kept a steady frown on her otherwise smoothly tanned face.

"In any case," Father Gregory continued, "please do feel welcome here and do not hesitate to ask us anything your hearts may desire. We want to continue a meaningful exchange with the Catholic Church, so that we may avoid any confusion in the future."

Sure, tell that to Mother Prosperine over there, who's as welcoming as a granite slab.

I pursed my lips at the thought as we reached the first steps leading up to the brass doors of the church entrance. The stone here was more innately worked, unlike the rocks composing the wall outside. The climb was not overly arduous, although some part of it was probably due to my regular track and field workouts. Reaching the top, I turned around to see the others following not far behind, except for Seo-Yeon, who was now standing a few steps from the bottom of the stairs, squinting into the distance.

"Seo-Yeon! Please don't linger!" Father Gregory's voice boomed over me, louder than what I would have given him credit for, given his thin frame and age.

The Asian girl looked quizzically up at us, her hazel eyes wide and confused. "Did anyone see...?" a sudden wind whipped the next words away, scattering them like leaves in a gale, but I noticed that no one was paying attention anyways. Giving a final glance towards the direction she had been looking in and a shrug, Seo-Yeon begrudgingly began to follow. Father Gregory had already turned and entered the church behind me.

Inside, we were greeted by two more nuns dressed in immaculate black and white robes, standing side by side as we entered.

"Welcome to our humble monastery. I am Sister Mara." The shorter of the two introduced herself, her voice soft-spoken and gentle. "Please, if you have any needs or requirements, we are here to assist you in making your stay as comfortable and as enjoyable as possible." Her round face, hued with a soft caramelized tan, beamed outwards with a kind smile on full lips.