The Statue

This story contains: Lesbians, a Monstergirl (Gargoyle), a hell of a tongue, and nuns.

***

Sister Eliza peered at the outside world through a window on the third floor of the Cathedral of Savior Virgo. Outside, she saw the wide dirt trail that led up to the abbey, her life and prison, as well as the rolling green hills. A river flowed close by, and she followed it to where it ran off into the horizon, bound for unknown lands.

She sighed in wanderlust, and stood away from the window. A life-time ago, she had been playing in the shadow of mountains. Now, she toiled in the shadow of an abbey. Ink from copying manuscripts was stuck on her fingers, interchangeable with dirt from the gardens. Her habit was heavy and uncomfortably warm in this weather, especially when the sun beat down on its thick black fabric. There was prayer almost every moment of the day. At lunch, at dinner, in-between them, before bed, after bed... that wasn't even counting the numerous special prayers of the holy days!

As Sister Eliza walked away from the room, it occurred to her just how quiet and cool this room was. There was no Mother Superior to scold about the corruptions in the world. Nor, with the roof, was there a sun beating down on her back to roast her alive. It was a very nice, if small, room.

It was a few paces wide, and more than that long. The stairs to the second floor opened up in the middle of the floor. Eliza didn't know what it was for. Sister Bethlem had flown into a fright about hearing something from the upper parts of the cathedral, and the Mother Superior had seen it fit to send Eliza up. It was, thankfully, a reprieve from the prayers and the books.

But there wasn't anything up here to scare Bethlem! The room had an errant, and old, broom lying on the floor, as well as an unused stool and lonesome bucket. The only thing that could frighten Bethlem had already given Eliza a start when she found it, and it wasn't something that could make a noise. Behind the staircase stood a well-carved, yet bizarre, statue.

Eliza hadn't even figured out it was there until her eyes wandered over to it. It was a statue of a woman, or perhaps a demon, almost as big as she was, and it stood behind the stairs leading down to the back of the cathedral. She thought that it could be a demon because it wasn't human. It didn't have hooves or wings, only tiny nubs of horns. The statue crouched upon what looked like an unused stone block from the time of the abbey's construction, its long claws and taloned feet gripping the sides. Its hands were incredibly big, twice the size of Eliza's, yet it had three fingers with dull conical claws, and its forearms were equally large to support such beastly hands. Its thighs were powerfully built, and its toes were articulated talons that could pierce rock.

The statue was beautiful, though. It had been carved perfectly smoothly. Despite it being as gray as the stone around it, was as smooth as polished marble. Its face was that of a young woman, turned to the side. That, along with its short, tussled hair and half-lidded almond eyes, gave off the indication that it was looking far off into the distance. It had a cute nose, short pointed ears, and the only interruption to its full lips were two small fangs that protruded from its upper lip. Sister Eliza had to resist the temptation to look at its hourglass figure, though. She didn't need more thoughts in her head against this abbey. What little she did sneak a glance to herself of was very ...pleasing. No, no she shouldn't think about that!

Still, who had carved it? Who had pulled it up here? She was almost certain the Mother Superior wouldn't have it be shown about - Eliza did take it for a demon at first. But even then, why keep it? It was a statue of unique skill and beauty, that much was for certain. If anyone else knew about it, then it may be destroyed!

Sister Eliza had to leave. She had spent too much time up here, and any more would earn her a rap on the knuckles and a prayer against sin. Eliza gathered up the broom, stool, and bucket, and began down the stairs, each one creaking with her footsteps. She missed the click of stone on stone as the statue blinked.

***

The sound of knuckles cracking filled the air along with a groan. The light of candles danced across drying ink letters on crisp pages. Sister Astia set down her feather pen and pushed back her chair. "Here's a prayer I'd like to use more often: Dead Lord, Please Don't Make Me Copy Any More Manuscripts," she said.

"Don't bother. The abbey gets paid to make the books of scripture for nobles, and that money's good," Sister Nimmea groused.

Sister Astia snorted, then she straightened up. "Hey, Eliza? Why did Mother Superior have you check up in the Cathedral?"

Eliza dragged her attention away from the window. She had half as many lines on her manuscript as the other two did. "Oh, um...Sister Bethlem heard a sound while she was sweeping, and Mother Superior had me check it."

"Pfft, Bethlem will jump at anything," Nimmea said, setting her pen down. She slid her own chair back, and stood up.

"That's true. I accidentally made her jump once when I tried to get her attention," Astia said, standing up.

Both Nimmea and Astia came to Savior Virgo's after Eliza had arrived, but they were all roughly the same age, hovering in the early years of their twenties. They wouldn't get any younger in this place.

Eliza would not get this page done tonight. It was after dinner, and the time of retiring was fast approaching them. Cracking her own knuckles, Eliza stood up. Compared to her fellow sisters, she was tall and gangly. Thin arms, thin legs, thin body. Her nose was long and thin, and her black hair was long, though again the habit covered it. Her eyes were as green as alpine grass.

From outside the stone room, the sound of bronze bells rang clearly. It was time for the final evening prayer. Nimmea held the door open for Astia and Eliza and they began walking towards the cathedral. Eliza found her attention drifting to the stones of the abbey's buildings.

The abbey wasn't that old, being less than a century in age. Somehow, though, many of the stone blocks used in its construction had cracks on them. Nothing dangerous, Eliza believed, but small holes had found themselves on the rock and the cracks emanated from there. It was a rather odd occurrence, and one that Eliza wasn't sure on who else knew about them. In fact, the more she looked at the holes, the more it seemed like there was some kind of a pattern to it. Like a hand spread, but bigger...

"Eliza? Are you okay?" Nimmea asked.

"Huh, wha? Oh, just thinking," Eliza mumbled.

"That 'thinking' is going to land you with another dozen prayers against slothfulness," Astia called out from in front of them, "Now hurry up! I don't want to be late!"

***

The evening prayers pass by mercifully enough, and it was off to the dorms for the nuns. In the morning, it would be prayer again, then breakfast, and then Eliza would have to copy more of the manuscript, like she had been doing for the past month. She could barely see out of her room's window into the night, and she still wanted to be out amongst it.

The nuns' dorms were pitiful, yet another attempt to keep them 'humble'. It barely had enough room for a thin, lumpy bed and a desk, and the door was dominated by the crossed holy symbol of the order. Eliza's day-dreaming stretched into the night, and she was literally burning through her fair share of candles. She shouldn't stay up so late, but her wishes kept her up like the sun streaming through the window of a prison cell.

Out there, somewhere beyond the meadows and mountains, there were other people living real lives. Eliza couldn't reach them, but she could imagine them. People, hustling and running about in a city, bargaining over the price of food. She'd heard that some cathedrals closer to the city were covered in magnificent works of art. She'd love to be part of that.

Her imagination was getting the better of her, and her candle was burning lower and lower. Eliza was just about to blow out her candle and try to sleep when she heard something. She stopped. It sounded like...

*click - click - click*

Stone tapping against stone? And it was coming from outside the window! Eliza's heart suddenly jumped. Wasn't it too late for anybody to be up? She peered out her meager window, but there wasn't enough light outside.

*click - click - Click*

It was getting closer! Eliza backed away, almost stumbling. Monsters could still exist in this world, right? Things like fabled goblins and ghasts, nightmare beasts to come and do terrible things in the night!

Her heart pounding, Eliza quickly blew out her candle and jumped into the bed, covering herself up like a scared little girl. Her breath heavy, she waited for the clicking to pass her or stop at her window.

*Click - Click - Click - click - click*

The clicking passed by her window, continuing down the row. Eliza breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. She hadn't even realized how tightly she had been holding the bed's cover! But what was that noise? It sounded kind of like someone was throwing rocks at the covenant's walls, but it seemed too gentle for that. She supposed that they'd all find out in the morning, but the clicking haunted Eliza until she finally fell asleep.

***

"Eliza, are you okay? It looks like you haven't slept a wink!" Nimmea said.

It was just after the mind-numbing morning prayers, and they were on their way to the morning chores. After Bethlem's fright, Eliza had been given sweeping the cathedral, in order to impress any visitors. What Nimmea had said was partly true, however. Eliza had barely gotten any sleep last night, and there were several times when she woke with a start for no good reason. "I'm okay," she mumbled.

"If you say so. But be careful! I don't want you getting accosted for laziness just because you had one bad night," Nimmea said, before hurrying off to her own tasks in the kitchen.

"I'll be all right," Eliza said as she wearily waved Nimmea off. She trudged off, taking the broom from out of the closet and walking to the epic main hall of the cathedral.

It truly was spectacular, an opulent contrast to the tiny dorms the nuns had. Rainbow beams of light fell though the gigantic stained-glass windows of the cross-shaped structure, painting the wooden pews with rich colors. The titanic translucent images of the apse seemed to radiate light as the day illuminated them. The finely-carved columns of the aisles were fashioned so that it looked like verdant flowers grew up them, and the aisles themselves were cast into such darkness that it was a perfect contrast to the illumination of the windows.

Eliza began to sweep the aisles, almost vainly cleaning the floor in an attempt to make it look better than it already was. As she mindlessly shuffled nonexistent dirt about, the dappled colors pouring down onto her got hotter and hotter. A bead of sweat fell down her forehead. It felt like she was cooking alive in her habit. She had just started sweeping, and already she was sweating! There was something just plain wrong with that. She needed to get into the shade.

As Eliza passed into the dark aisle, she remembered how nice the third-story room she had checked yesterday had been. Surely, no-one would mind if she popped up there for a quick rest?

She quickly ascended the two flights of steps to the third-story room, carrying the broom with her. She could always use it as an excuse if she was caught. Eliza wasn't expecting any company aside from that stone statue, however.

The room was as if Eliza had never left it. At the window, the hills rolled on and on, leading up to the snow-capped mountains in the distance. She could see tiny specks of people next to the river far away, probably women from the closest village doing laundry. The bright blue sky was interrupted by free-flying birds. Caught in the image, Eliza rested the broom against the wall and leaned her elbows on the windowsill.

If only she could be out among those hills! Eliza missed her mountain village sorely. Yes, it was full of sheep and shepherds, but it was her home. Her former home. Her father, a wealthy wool merchant, had decided to put her in the covenant so he could focus on preparing her older sister for marriage.

A sudden clatter nearly made Eliza jump out of her skin. The broom had fallen over, and Eliza bent to pick it back up. She caught a glimpse of the stone statue from the corner of her eye and she nearly jumped again before remembering that it was just an object.

But something was off about the stone statue. It looked slightly different compared to yesterday. Eliza walked up to the demonic-looking figure. The head was tilted the same way as before, and it was perched identically to last time Eliza had seen it. But now that she was looking closer at the statue, the block it was crouched on was covered in scrape marks, and she wasn't so sure that the statue's tussled curls had been bent that particular way yesterday.

Eliza held her breath and gingerly poked the statue with the broom handle. It hit solid stone. She let out a sigh of relief, then giggled. What was she expecting? For the statue to come to life? That would be ridiculous. It was just her imagination, she thought.

"You know, you're a weird one," Eliza said absentmindedly to the statue, tracing its face with her fingers. "You've got to weigh a goodly few hundred pounds, you're on the third floor of the main building in this covenant, and people haven't said a word about you. What is your secret?"

Eliza's eyes drifted with her thoughts. The statue was nude, its femininity unchecked by carved cloth. Its breasts were firm, full pear-shaped mounds, with their button-like nipples oddly inviting. Its stomach faintly outlined the square panels of the abdominal muscles, barely visible in good light, but there nonetheless. Between its crouched legs, Eliza could see a thick thatch of hair surround the statue's carved sex, similar in detail to the figure's hair. Maybe she should sidle around to its back and see what that looked like... No! She shouldn't be so lecherous! That was against a nun's nature, her nature.

Still it was so odd that the cold statue should give her such a needful heat in her core. Except the statue wasn't cold, Eliza realized with a jump back. Her fingers had been caressing the statue's cheeks, and the statue's cheeks were warm as a human body's.

Eliza backed away slowly, watching the statue like a hawk. Her fingers brushed against the cool stone of the cathedral's walls as she searched for something that would betray the statue's nature. She waited, and waited, and waited, all the while looking at it.

Slowly, it blinked. The wistful eyes of the statue closed then opened, the stone-formed face of the being having turned into disappointed sadness, like it was caught stealing cooling pies off a windowsill yet couldn't be guilty.

Eliza mouthed a prayer as the statue's curly hair turned to a rich black and its body seem to fill with vitality. Its eyes - her eyes - turned from stony marbles into dull orange eyes, sliced like a reptile's. She waggled her fingers on the stone block she crouched upon, and each joint cracked like pebbles colliding together. Then, the former statue rolled her neck, causing it to crack like her fingers. Then, she said, "Drat."

Eliza stood stunned. Drat? Drat?! That's what a living statue says?

"Please don't look at me like that," the statue said. "I was hoping you'd get bored and wander off like you lot usually do."

"What are you?" Eliza asked. "Some kind of -"

"Don't say demon. I know we're in a church-ery thingy, but please don't assume I'm a demon," the woman interrupted.

"Well, that was my only guess," Eliza confided. The woman didn't seem too terribly interested in being particularly evil. In fact, she couldn't even define the building she was in, so perhaps she wasn't that smart?

But Eliza had standards to maintain. "Pardon me, what's your name?"

The statue-woman stretched her back out like a cat, and Eliza could see the smooth curve of her buttocks as well as a very short, thick tail. Then, the woman scratched at her ear with a hind foot, lifting her leg up in a most oddly flexible fashion. "Slate," she replied.

"Um, well, Slate, it's nice to meet you. How long have you been at our covenant?" Eliza asked. Hey, she may as well get some answers while she could.

"A few years. I dunno, I don't particularly count. Thought I'd stay as long as I could, check to see if there's any cute nuns," Slate idly commented.

"Wait, what?"

"I get lonely."

Eliza was still processing the statue-woman's comment, but she realized that she had forgotten a very important part of proper conversation. "I'm sorry, I must be terribly rude. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Eliza."

"I could've told you that. I hang around here all day, waiting for night to fall so I can nab some grub. I hear you girls talking all the time," Slate said, stepping off the stone to her full height. She was shorter than Eliza was by a head, but seemed to be far denser in mass.

Slate passed by Eliza and rested her talon-like fingers on the windowsill. "So, you like the great outdoors, do ya? I mean, you just stop and stare outside."

Eliza wasn't quite sure to make of this woman. She seemed quite nice, if a little bit creepy at times. "Um, yes. I didn't want to go to the covenant," she answered.

"Must be pretty miserable," Slate said, turning to look at Eliza with half-closed eyes. "Working all day in garden or dusting the hall or drawing those books, and the only rest you get is sleep and praying. Is there any respite for you?"

"It's not that bad!" Eliza shot back.

"The only reason you know about me is that you want to escape. You need to escape, actually, don't you?"

Eliza stiffened. She was a nun. Nuns have standards and rules that they must follow. "No? No, I don't," she said, wavering more than she thought.

"I may be able to turn into a statue," Slate said, pointing at herself, "But I saw your eyes. I'm not your prince. I can't carry you away from here, I just don't have the resources. But I can be your secret."

"What do you mean?" Eliza asked, her cheeks turning red. Oh, she was thinking some things a nun shouldn't think about!

"Your guilty little secret," Slate taunted, sauntering up to Eliza and tapping her chest with a dull claw. She was smiling a wicked little smile. "If nobody knows about me, then you can be free with me in here. We can do whatever we want, and no-one needs to know."

Eliza's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. "I-I'll need to think about it," she stammered, grabbing the broom and running down the stairs.

Behind her, Slate smiled coyly. The strange monster-woman got back up on her block and resumed her pose. Once again, her body silenced into stone.

***

Even after a day of prayer, of eating light, and of transcribing books by candlelight, Eliza still couldn't get Slate out of her head. She wasn't sure if it was morbid curiosity or her own, terrible nature. Just what was Slate? Where did she come from? How come nobody else had found out about her?

Eliza couldn't concentrate on the manuscripts. She kept on seeing flashes of Slate. Not the whole body, just parts of it. The curves of Slate's buttocks. The weight of her breasts. Her tussled, curly hair. Her stomach, chiseled with a strength that Eliza should never find herself attracted to. At its worst, Eliza could see Slate's orange eyes, the shape of her lips, the curve of her mound.

Both Nimmea and Astia noticed. They had both asked her. When their words sunk through the reflective fog in Eliza's head, she mumbled their questions away. It was her, and only her, that this needs concerning.