Alraune Mandragora

Marna guided the plow with uncertain hands. Her father watched from some distance away, hands tucked in his belt. Even though Marna's blundering attempts behind the plow could be seen as somewhat comical, Dirk's stern look would not afford a turn for anything jovial. He trained her grudgingly, worrying always that she would hurt herself performing such tasks. Still, she insisted on helping, and Marna's mother insisted that Dirk humor her.

Anything, Hilda had explained, to keep Marna's spirits up.

It had been an uncomfortable winter for all three of them. Marna had been becoming more and more taciturn as the days went by. Her parents knew something was wrong with her. Marna hadn't stopped gaining weight since winter began, and it had affected her mood noticeably.

After a half hour, Marna decided to let her father have a go at the plow once again. The ground was still cold and hard, she insisted. Dirk gave her a weak smile and took the rein. Marna returned to the barn to help her mother.

Marna retired to the house to make lunch after a while, and Hilda joined Marna's father in the field. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and Dirk began to speak.

"She's getting worse, you know." He said simply.

Hilda stared at the newly plowed rows in the field and sighed. "I know. But what are we to do? Summer will come, and she will want to spend time in the village..."

"Aye," Dirk nodded, solemnly. "And who would recognize her? The poor girl."

"As soon as this barley is in, I think we should take her to stay at your sister's house up north." Hilda suggested. "The country up there would distract her, I think. I could watch her for a while to see if it helps her."

Dirk shook his head. "Maybe you should take her sooner than that. Next week I'll pack the wagon for you, and you can return the month after if all goes well."

Hilda frowned and began to argue, but Dirk's hand shot up and gripped her shoulder, interrupting her speech.

"Hilda, look." His arm shot out towards the road.

Hilda squinted into the distance and could just make out someone moving along the road. "Who is it?" She asked.

"Maybe the answer to our prayers, Hilda." Dirk said, as if it were true. "Come with me!"

Dirk marched over the fields towards the road and Hilda followed behind him. She could see now that someone was riding a small wagon along the old road, and that Dirk was moving to intercept the traveler. As they moved nearer to the road, Hilda could understand Dirk's urgency.

The man on the wagon was a priest.

Hilda watched as Dirk began to run and wave his arms. "Father!" He yelled after the man. Hilda could see that the shout had caught the priest's attention. After a few moments, Hilda could see the wagon slowing down. The priest was waiting for them. Hilda slowed to a walk, making her way to the point where the three of them would commune.

~

Marna looked up as the front door opened and her parents entered, followed by a stranger. It took Marna a moment to recognize the man as a priest, and her hand went to her chest as she bowed in respect.

"Father, welcome to our home." Marna said warmly, standing straight again to look at the man.

The priest stood in the doorway, wreathed in the light of day, looking like an icon of all that is bright and holy. He entered quietly and smiled to Marna. When he spoke, his voice conveyed boundless patience and confidence.

"Thank you, my child." The priest said, entering and closing the door behind him.

"Please, sit by the fire, Father," Hilda commanded, "And Marna, if you could put on some water."

The priest, Dirk and Hilda all took chairs near the wood stove. Marna set the kettle on the hot iron stove.

"You may be excused, Marna." Dirk said simply.

Marna paused for a moment. "Yes sir." She replied. She fetched her cloak (which used to be her father's) and wrapped it about her and the patchwork dress that she wore. She plucked her book from the table and went to the back door. She heard the low tones of her parents and the priest talking behind her. She could only assume that they were talking about her.

Outside, the sun shone but gave little warmth to an early spring day. Marna walked slowly towards the forest that bordered her family's farm. She would give the conference near the wood stove a few hours and then return home.

Inside the house, a story was told to the priest. He listened quietly, while staring intently into the open door of the wood stove. The flames within would dance and light his solemn face from time to time. His face did not seem to change as he listened, no matter how curious the details of Marna's winter had been.

When the story was told, the priest sat in silence, still as the chair that he sat in. His hands shifted upon the arms of the chair, and he looked up at the two storytellers who were watching him so expectantly.

"I am of Culrose Monastery, to the north. The monks who lived there in days past were the keepers of a great library. Since the monks have been gone many years, a group of canoness have gathered there to keep contemplation. It is well away from the cloister, but at least five of the sisters have found sanctuary there. When I return, I will send word to them of your daughter's plight."

Dirk took Hilda's hand and addressed the priest further. "Father, do you believe that our daughter is in danger?"

The priest stood then. He held his hands over the stove to warm them. "If she has gone into the earth, as you say, she may be conducting rites which have put her in harms way. It is not unheard of for the young and curious to bring this sort of woe upon themselves."

The couple exchanged worried looks at the thought of this.

"Unwittingly, of course" The priest stated, as if to stifle their worry.

"What can we do?" Hilda asked, taking her husband's hand.

"If the girl is cooperative, as you say, and her temperament has remained consistent, you can try to keep her at home. Sending her away, even as you have done now, may be serving to further her defilement." The priest said, moving towards the door. He plucked his hat from its peg and settled it upon his head. "I must continue on my errand. I will send word soon. Continue your prayers."

"Thank you, father." Dirk said, standing.

"I only hope I can be of real assistance. Stand firm in the light of God." He nodded to both of them and was gone, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~

That night, Marna's curiosity got the best of her, and, sneaking down after all the lights in the house were out, she listened intently at her mother and father's bedroom door. She could not hear all of their whispers, but more than once her mother raised her voice in frustration. Marna heard enough to know that the priest had made arrangements to send Marna away from home.

Marna returned to her bed, as silently as a mouse. Even with her added bulk, she still knew how to keep the house quiet while moving through it. She sat on her bed with a heavy creak and stared out the window. She surprised herself by finding quite a bit of excitement in the thought of leaving home. Maybe it was the long winter, or the fact that her strange condition seemed to be truly troubling her parents; she couldn't know. Marna wondered what sort of place the priest meant to send her to. These thoughts continued, turned to dreams, and then deep, deep sleep.

It took two weeks for any word to reach the farm again. Dirk was seated on the front porch, mending his saddle, when the sound of hooves and wagon wheels made him look up. There, at turning on to the small track that lead to the house from the road, was the priests small horse drawn wagon. This time, however, two figures rode upon the wagon's bench. The riders wore black hoods, with a spot of white showing beneath. These were the sisters the priest spoke of. He had kept his word, as Dirk knew he would.

Dirk stood to welcome the sisters. "Hilda!" He called, "We have visitors."

Hilda stepped through the front door and walked towards the approaching wagon. Dirk took her arm and stood with her, and the two of them waited together.

Nearly a mile away, Marna watched from the treeline. This was it; the day she would leave her home. Her parents had told her that she would be leaving, but they weren't able to give her any details. Her feelings had been confused, and now she felt panicked. How long were they expecting to keep her? What would her life be from now on? Marna turned away from the sight of her fate being decided for her and retreated into the trees. She ran as well as she could, as well as her great, deformed body would allow. Once her blood was hot, she began to cover ground much faster. She felt as if she were trying to run under water, but she kept running.

Crashing her way through the underbrush, Marna emerged through the trees and found her fallen tree waiting for her. She stumbled towards it, pitching herself headlong into the thinly disguised hole that she knew was there. She fell into darkness, sliding down the short embankment into her secret lair. She pushed through the loose debris that collected around her, and knelt before the deeper darkness that was a narrow tunnel that lead deeper underground.

"Please, I know you can hear me." Marna begged the darkness. "I think others know about our secret. I don't know if I will return."

Marna felt a consciousness awaken in the darkness, as if a light was somehow filling the cave around her. A voice spoke in her mind.

"You are the secret. You will always return, for you carry us with you."

Marna stared into the blackness, confused. She didn't quite know what she was doing there, didn't quite know what the voice in her head meant by what it had said to her. She felt torn; part of her wanting to go and part of her wanting to stay and beg the darkness to let her stay forever.

"We have given you all we can. Now we must rest. Go; plant your seed in safe darkness. If you return, bring another."

Marna shook her head and turned back towards the light above. She scrambled upwards and lay pitifully on the carpet of leaves and sticks that surrounded the hole. When she managed to get up, she threw a bundle of sticks and debris over the hole to conceal it. Her old reading spot would be awfully lonely without her. Marna began to weep as she turned towards home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The wagon clattered along the well-worn road as it headed north. Marna bounced along, feeling her spirits rise as she rode farther north than she had been in ages. She rode in back, laying on a small pile of straw, one elbow propped up on the sack that her mother had so thoughtfully packed for her. The landscape passed by her slowly, and soon she began to relish the ride. Her companions weren't very talkative, but they seemed kindly enough.

The driver was Sister Ursula. The woman sitting next to Sister Ursula was Sister Margaret, who apparently was the abbess of the small group who occupied Marna's new home. Sister Margaret was especially quiet.

When Marna had returned to her house earlier that day, both of the holy women had been waiting for her on the back porch. Her parents stood behind them. When Marna approached, the two women crossed themselves and muttered silent prayers. This wouldn't be the last time they did this. They greeted her with kindness, but Marna felt as if they were suspicious of her.

Now, the three of them rode somewhat merrily towards their destination. Marna would comment on a tree, or a bird, or maybe a flower from time to time, and the sisters would agree that these things were truly wonderful. They were friendly, even if they did not seem to encourage much conversation. Marna didn't know what to think of this.

After two days of riding, with two stops to pass the night under some hospitable willow or maple trees, Sister Ursula guided the wagon off the main road and through a large field. A faint wagon track made their progress easy, and soon they were on another road. The three travelers followed this until dark. Then, up on a hill, Marna could see lights. The horse began to climb some forested switchbacks, and soon they came to a halt outside a small gate. A figure emerged from the darkness and took the reins from Sister Ursula.

"Thank you, sister." Ursula said. A lamp flared out of the darkness, and light was cast onto the scene. The gate opened and the horse was led into a small stables. Marna looked around as best she could, but the unfamiliar surroundings were mostly dark.

"Come, child." Sister Margaret said from somewhere in the dark. "We must get you inside."

The lamplight shone on Sister Margaret's outstretched hand. Marna picked up her bag and stepped down from the wagon, with the woman's assistance. Sister Margaret maintained her grip once Marna was on the ground. "It is dark, child. I will lead you inside."

Shadows loomed all around as a few more lamps joined them. They walked through what appeared to be a crumbling cloister, and came to a wooden doorway. This opened, and a black robbed woman beckoned them inside. Marna thought she counted half a dozen women in all, but she couldn't be sure. They all gathered inside and the door was closed. The women stood around, fluttering their garments like birds flapping their wings. Each of them crossed themselves and muttered a prayer, and more lamps were lit. Soon, seven faces in golden lamplight were beaming at Marna.

"Welcome to our humble home, child." Margaret said warmly. "We keep this place from total ruin, and in return the priory down the hill keeps us fed. Sisters, introduce yourselves to our guest."

Each of the women introduced themselves to Marna in turn. She smiled and greeted each one, bowing a little as she did so.

"But it is late," Margaret said. "We will have to keep further introduction of ourselves and our home until tomorrow. Now we must get you put up for the night. Sister Ursula, would you please take her things. Sister Mira, take Marna to her room. Good night, God keep you, sisters."

Each of the sisters said their good nights and dispersed, some taking to stairs, others heading off through passages leading off into the cloister. Sister Mira bowed to Marna and bid her follow. Marna obeyed. After several stone passages, stairways and a closed door, Marna found herself in what was to be her room. It was simply furnished with a wooden bunk, a chair and an empty bookshelf. Where a window might have been, the wall was paneled by a large ornate wooden screen. A cloth hung from the ceiling, and behind it marna could see a stone washtub built into the wall. Steam rose from the tub.

"Sister Margaret ordered you a bath, so there you have." Sister Mira said, pointing to the tub behind the curtain. "Morning meal is early, so someone will come for you. If you need anything, pull that string and a bell will sound."

Marna turned around and around, looking at the strange room. It was like a crypt. How far down were they?

"Good night." Sister Mira said, after awaiting Marna's response.

"Good night." Marna said, watching her go. The door thumped closed.

Marna saw that her bag hadn't been deposited in her room. She wondered why. Suddenly she felt a wave of homesickness and she sat on the surprisingly soft bed. She held her head in her hands and tried to think only of how strange and exciting this place was to her. Did they have a library here? Marna hoped there were hundreds of books to read.

The warm bath beckoned her, and so she began to disrobe. She untied each of the fasteners on the front of her dress that her mother had crafted by sewing two dresses together. It was the only way to make clothes to fit Marna now. She pulled the dress down over her shoulders and past her enormous breasts. The dress fell, exposing Marna's unnaturally bountiful curvature. Her waist tapered drastically; no bigger around than one of her plump thighs. Her breasts were in terrible disproportion to the rest of her body, each heavy fleshy orb hung halfway down her abdomen. She had developed these features in a remarkably short period of months, and caused her parents to suspect some evil had befallen her.

Marna, now completely naked, stepped into her bath. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes watched her from an insidious hole behind a large ornate wooden panel on one wall. The eyes watched as Marna bathed; as she stood from the bath, as her unearthly body dripped with hot water, as she lathered her voluminous breasts with a cake of soap and then as she submerged herself again. Marna lifted a long, ivory colored leg from the bath and caressed it with her delicate hands. Her breasts squeezed between her arms and crowded her in the small tub. She stood again, showing the curvature of her legs up to her waist. The swell of her hips, her beautiful, curving rear; all dripping with soap and water. Marna was a vision of sexual magnetism.

Marna liked a long bath, and the watching eyes relished each and every moment of it.

Marna curled up in her new bed and blew out the last candle. It was so quiet in her room that she could hear her own heart beat. There was a faint scratching sound, then silence once again. A door closed somewhere. It was quiet, but the old place had its share of nightly noises. Eventually, after a long silence, Marna was able to plummet into a deep sleep.

As days turned into weeks in the ancient cloister, Marna came to know each sister by name. There was a garden for her to work in, a few horses to tend to but the small selection of books was disappointing. Every day Marna had a schedule, but she still had plenty of free time. She was allowed to wander the woods with an accompanying sister or two, and was encouraged to try her hand at any task that piqued her curiosity.

"Nunneries are not known for their libraries," Sister Ursula informed Marna, one evening. "We're lucky enough to have the books we have."

Sister Mira looked up at them as Ursula spoke. Mira looked as if something had crossed her mind, but she went back to her knitting.

Later, after the evening meal, Sister Mira took Marna aside out in the garden.

"Marna, my dear," Mira said quietly "What Sister Ursula said about the monastery library is not entirely true. I have been all over this old place, and have a few secrets of my own. If it's books you want, meet me in the garden tonight after midnight."

Sister Mira hurried away, as if she did not wish to be seen talking to Marna.

That night, Marna snuck out of her room. She made it up the stairs and through the common room unseen. She wondered what would happen if she had been seen, but was sure it would not come to anything serious such as punishment. Out in the garden, she waited in the moonlight by a small crumbling statue. A dark figure stole silently from the shadows. Marna heard a hiss and saw a hand beckoning her from out of the darkness. She followed.

"Come with me." Sister Mira's voice whispered sharply.

They walked to the other side of the cloister and up a small staircase that stood outside of the wall. At the top, Mira opened a door and they went inside.

"Up, down, up!" Mira cackled softly. "It is a strange place, this old cloister."

Marna followed as they made their way through a series of disused rooms. Then it was down two flights of stone steps, through an old undercroft that echoed while they passed through. Marna could hear only her own footsteps, not those of the old woman that was guiding her. Marna could also hear dripping water somewhere, but that was all. They came to a spot along the wall where two columns nearly hid a small flight of stairs.

"Up here." Mira took to the stairs quickly. Marna followed.

When they reached the top, Marna could smell dust. A flame leapt up in the darkness as Sister Mira lit a candle. The small light was a huge difference, and the entirety of the small room was visible. Every wall was lined with shelves, each one laden with books of all sizes and states of disrepair.