Wandering the streets of Venice on this hot summer night, Faith was so thankful that she had decided to save up and take this trip to Italy. Living on the Crystal Coast of North Carolina isn't exactly the easiest place to connect with one's Italian identity, but after her mother's Father departed this life that past fall, everyone seemed to talk about the old country and traditions. It felt all so foreign and not a true part of her; she wanted to change that. So she scrimped and she saved all while studying for her nursing degree in Greensboro, and she saved up just enough to make the trip.
Rome was incredible! The landscapes, the beauty of the churches, and the kindness of the people were better than she could have imagined. The artwork in Florence was simply breathtaking. The paintings and sculptures were so lifelike! If she were a more loose moraled girl, she might have lingered longer examining David's near perfect physique, but she was a good Baptist girl and would not fall to the Devil's temptations. That said, some of the Italian men could have resisted their own temptations a bit more and not been so obvious when staring at her large backside in her torn blue jean Daisy Dukes. "Perfectly acceptable back home, but not so much here!" she thought to herself.
But the part of the trip that had her excited the most was Venice. She had done the research and consulted the genealogists. Ships manifests from the turn of the 20
th
century placed her family's home as the city in the lagoon. In fact, through following a trail of Catholic baptismal and wedding records, she was able to trace her lineage back to the late-1600s, but that's when it became... odd. Curiously, Faith's many times great grandmother was baptized three months after her older sister. Now it doesn't take a brain surgeon to understand to know that's not how pregnancy works!
So Faith dug deeper and found out that that ancestor had an aunt, that had been sent to a convent, the San Lorenzo convent to be precise, as was the custom of the day for any daughter who wasn't the oldest daughter. And to her astonishment, this convent had quite a reputation! According to one visitor's writing's of it in 1664,
"This is the richest convent in all of Venice, and there are more than 100 nuns, all gentlewomen. They dress themselves most elegantly, with white habits in the French manner, the bodice of fine linen with tiny pleats, and the professed wear black lace three fingers wide on the seams; a small veil encircles their forehead, below which their curly hair falls, beautifully arranged; their bosom is half-uncovered, and taken altogether their habit has more of the nymph than the nun."
Faith supposed she knew now where she got her own shoulder-length curly brown locks from.
And that's why Faith found herself wandering the tight streets of Venice on this night, appreciating the full moon illuminating the dark cobblestones and shimmering along the canals. She was determined to find the Convent of San Lorenzo. She was determined to try to understand what kind of nun would get pregnant! And honestly, she didn't know if she would get that answer, but she still felt a need to be there.
As she made the final right turn and immerged from the alley, she came upon a small square, surrounded by three and four story buildings on three sides and a ten foot tall brick and stucco wall in front of her. In the middle of the square was a well with a large metal covering over it, locked shut. Faith walked past the well to the wall and looked closer at a carved stone, maybe two feet wide and one foot high, hung about four feet from the ground. Though weathered from time, she could make out two clearly busty women on their knees on either side of a tall, muscular man. Faith could feel an energy to this place... she couldn't put a finger on it, but it was palpable.
She slipped off her flip flops to allow her bare feet to ground in place. She moved her hand up and touched one of the kneeling women in the carving. As she did, a thought appeared clear as day in her mind. An image of half-naked women in a common space flashed in her brain, almost like a passing thought. Then she touched the man and another set of images flashed in her brain; it was a strong, built Black man wearing African tribal attire in the room with the women looking like he was casting some sort of spell or chanting or something. The energy of the space felt like it was growing; Faith began to get wet, and her adrenaline began to rush as she could faintly taste pennies. Without even realizing her movements, her hand moved to the second kneeling woman when not an image appeared but rather a scene played out before her. She saw the same Black men standing behind one of the women while fucking her with his thick, veiny cock. He was chanting softly and thrusting, while the bent over woman met his every stroke with her own movements and breathily repeated, "Harder, Master! Faster, Master!" Her curly brown hair bounced everywhere as her large breasts swayed back and forth rapidly. Then, as suddenly as the images and thoughts and scenes appeared in her mind, the woman turned and looked directly at Faith with deep blue eyes that matched Fath's own and intensely said, "Drink from the well and serve your purpose, my daughter."
Faith blinked and found herself back in front of the wall, her sensations buzzing, and ears slightly ringing. She slowly pivoted one of her bare feet and turned her head to look at the well; the padlock was undone. She slowly stepped closer and closer to the well. Worried thoughts filled her head. What was she doing? Why didn't she just walk away? What in the world did she just see? But before she knew it, she was in front the well with her hand on the handle of the now opened lid. She gazed down into the water, now showing the reflection of that bright full moon. Good Christian girls don't do what she just saw. Good Christian girls shouldn't indulge in lustful, depraved urges. But her heart was racing, and her thighs rubbed against each other wet with her own juices; her body betraying her. She reached down into the well with both hands, cupped the water, and drank every last drop that she brought to her lips.
Faith felt... nothing... then she realized that the buzzing and the ringing started to die down; her heart slowed to a normal rate. Figuring it was all just an odd moment passing in time, she closed the lid and closed the lock. She slipped her feet back into her flip flops and headed back to her hotel. She changed into a large t-shirt and shorts, climbed into bed, and feel asleep quickly; the night having been quite exciting and tiring.
But once asleep, her dreams went back to the convent, back to the women, and back to that African man. He walked up to Faith and kissed her deeply. Despite her 5'8" height and thinner frame, Faith still felt small next to him. His hands gripped her hips as though he would not let go.
"You are the first to return in over 300 years. I came to Venice a slave, captured by traders and brought to the city to be sold for physical labor, but I escaped to the Convent. The Sisters there, like your ancestor Giulia, took me in and gave me sanctuary. They realized quickly that I was a shaman for my people - a healer and gift-giver.
