SINS OF SIERRA

First Night

By sunset, St. Annex had changed.

During the day, the convent was almost beautiful.

Sunlight entered through the tall windows. The courtyard filled with voices. Sisters moved between the chapel and the dormitory carrying books, laundry and baskets of food.

There was movement everywhere.

At night, there was none.

The walls seemed taller.

The corridors seemed longer.

And every sound carried.

Anne stood beside the dormitory window, watching the last light disappear behind the trees.

The village below was slowly going dark.

One house.

Then another.

Then another.

Until only a few lamps remained visible in the distance.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Anne turned.

Ophelia stood behind her.

She had already changed into her night clothes.

Anne smiled.

“It is.”

Ophelia joined her at the window.

“Back home, I used to hate quiet places.”

“Why?”

“I thought silence meant something bad was about to happen.”

Anne laughed softly.

“And now?”

Ophelia looked toward the old tree beyond the convent wall.

“Now I’m not so sure I was wrong.”

Anne followed her gaze.

The tree stood motionless.

Its branches were black against the darkening sky.

Neither woman spoke.

Then the bell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Ophelia stepped away from the window.

“That’s the signal for evening prayer.”

Anne nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Neither noticed the figure standing far beyond the wall.

A woman in white.

Watching.

The six sisters gathered in the chapel.

Father Elias stood before the altar.

The candles had already been lit.

There were fewer people than during the morning Mass.

Only the sisters.

Mother Superior Miriam.

Father Elias.

And two elderly women from the village.

Anne noticed that one of them was the same woman who had interrupted Mass the previous morning.

The woman avoided looking at the new sisters.

Her hands trembled around her rosary.

Father Elias began the evening prayer.

The sisters followed.

The chapel was quiet except for their voices.

Anne felt calmer.

There was something about praying together that made the strange things she’d experienced during the day seem less frightening.

Maybe she had been allowing her imagination to run too far.

Maybe the old building was simply full of old sounds.

Maybe the stories about Sierra had made everyone nervous.

She closed her eyes.

For several minutes, nothing happened.

Then she heard a faint whisper.

“Anne.”

Her eyes opened.

She looked around.

Nobody seemed to notice.

Ophelia was praying beside her.

Isolde was kneeling with her head bowed.

Nora had her eyes closed.

Mae was quietly moving her lips.

Wren stared straight ahead.

Anne swallowed.

She looked toward the altar.

The candles burned steadily.

Nothing was there.

She lowered her head again.

The whisper did not return.

After prayer, the sisters returned to the dormitory.

Dinner was simple.

Bread.

Soup.

Fruit.

Tea.

They sat around the long table in the common room.

Mae seemed determined to make the evening normal.

“So,” she said, “who has already decided which one of us snores?”

Nora laughed.

“No one knows yet.”

“I have a feeling it’s Wren.”

Wren looked at her.

“Why?”

“You sleep too quietly.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does to me.”

Everyone laughed.

Anne looked around the table.

Six women who had barely known one another a few days ago.

Already they were beginning to feel like a small family.

It was strange how quickly people could become familiar when placed in the same unfamiliar situation.

Ophelia raised her cup.

“To surviving our first week.”

Mae lifted hers.

“To surviving the old building.”

Nora joined them.

“To surviving each other.”

They laughed.

Anne raised her cup last.

“To whatever God has brought us here for.”

The laughter faded slightly.

Wren looked at her.

“That’s a dangerous toast.”

Anne smiled.

“Why?”

“Because we may actually find out.”

At nine, the common room closed.

The sisters said goodnight and went to their rooms.

Anne returned to hers.

She shut the door.

Locked it.

Then sat on the edge of her bed.

For a while, she simply listened.

The dormitory was quiet.

No footsteps.

No singing.

No scratching.

Nothing.

She opened her Bible.

She read for nearly an hour.

The words settled her mind.

Eventually, she placed the Bible beside her pillow.

She turned off the lamp.

Darkness filled the room.

Anne closed her eyes.

For the first time since arriving at St. Annex, she felt safe.

Then she heard the bell.

One ring.

Anne opened her eyes.

She waited.

Nothing.

She sat up.

The bell rang again.

Twice.

Then a third time.

Three slow strikes.

Anne stared at the ceiling.

That wasn’t the morning bell.

It wasn’t the evening bell.

She knew the schedule.

There was no reason for it to ring now.

She got out of bed.

Walked to the window.

The courtyard was empty.

The chapel was dark.

The old tree stood beyond the wall.

Anne looked toward the bell tower.

She couldn’t see anyone.

Then she heard something behind her.

A soft rustle.

She turned.

Her Bible was open.

She was certain she had closed it.

Anne walked toward the bed.

The pages moved slightly.

A breeze?

The window was shut.

She reached for the Bible.

A page had been folded down.

She stared at the passage.

Nothing unusual.

Then she noticed something written faintly in the margin.

Not printed.

Written by hand.

Four words.

Do not forget her.

Anne’s heart began to pound.

She touched the writing.

The ink was old.

Very old.

She flipped through the pages.

There were no other markings.

Anne closed the Bible.

This time, she held it against her chest.

“Who are you?”

The room remained silent.

Then came three knocks.

Not on the door.

On the window.

Anne froze.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

She slowly turned.

The curtains moved.

There was no wind.

Anne took one step toward the window.

Then another.

Her hand reached for the curtain.

Before she could pull it aside, a voice whispered from outside.

“Don’t.”

Anne stopped.

The voice sounded like a young woman.

Not angry.

Afraid.

Anne stepped away from the window.

The whisper came again.

“Don’t look.”

Then silence.

Anne backed toward the door.

Her breathing became uneven.

She didn’t know whether to call someone.

Before she could decide, footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Fast.

Someone was running.

Anne opened her door.

“Ophelia?”

Ophelia’s door flew open at the same moment.

They stared at one another.

“Did you hear that?” Ophelia asked.

“Yes.”

“Someone was running.”

They stepped into the hallway.

Nora came out.

Then Mae.

Isolde.

Wren.

Within seconds, all six stood together.

“What happened?” Mae asked.

“I heard footsteps,” Nora said.

“Me too.”

Wren looked toward the staircase.

“They came from upstairs.”

Everyone stared.

The third floor.

The abandoned floor.

The one they had been told not to enter.

A faint sound came from above.

Footsteps.

Slow this time.

One.

Two.

Three.

Mae whispered, “Someone’s up there.”

Isolde shook her head.

“No one is supposed to be.”

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

Then came a sound like something being dragged across the floor.

Mae grabbed Nora’s hand.

“Nope.”

“What?” Nora whispered.

“I’m not going upstairs.”

Nobody argued.

Then the sound stopped.

A moment later, something fell.

A loud crash.

Everyone jumped.

Wren looked at the others.

“We should tell Mother Superior.”

“Now?” Mae asked.

“Yes.”

They hurried toward Miriam’s office.

But before they reached the stairs, the chapel bell rang again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then silence.

Mother Superior Miriam was already awake.

When the six sisters arrived at her door, she opened it before they knocked.

She looked at them.

“What happened?”

Anne spoke first.

“We heard footsteps.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

Miriam’s face tightened.

“The third floor?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go there?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Her relief was immediate.

Too immediate.

Ophelia noticed.

“Mother, what is on the third floor?”

Miriam looked at her.

“Old rooms.”

“Why are they closed?”

“They are not safe.”

Mae frowned.

“Unsafe because they’re old?”

Miriam hesitated.

“Yes.”

Wren looked at her.

“Is that the truth?”

Miriam’s eyes moved to her.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Miriam said quietly:

“You should return to your rooms.”

“But—”

“Now.”

The sisters obeyed.

As they walked away, Anne glanced back.

Miriam remained standing in her doorway.

Watching the staircase.

Not them.

The staircase.

The dormitory slowly became quiet again.

One by one, the sisters returned to their rooms.

Anne lay down.

She tried to pray.

But her mind kept returning to the handwriting in her Bible.

Do not forget her.

Who was her?

Sierra?

Was someone trying to make them remember her?

She turned onto her side.

Then heard a whisper.

Not from the window.

Not from the hallway.

From inside her room.

“Anne.”

She sat up.

The room was dark.

Her lamp was off.

She reached for it.

The light came on.

Nothing.

She looked beneath the bed.

Empty.

Inside the wardrobe.

Empty.

Behind the curtain.

Nothing.

Anne slowly sat back down.

Then she saw something on the floor.

A white flower.

She stared at it.

The same kind she had found outside her room the night before.

She hadn’t brought one inside.

She was certain.

Anne didn’t touch it.

She simply stared.

Then the flower moved.

Not much.

Just a slight turn.

Its stem pointed toward the door.

Anne’s breathing stopped.

She stood.

The flower remained where it was.

She took one step toward it.

Then the dormitory bell rang.

The sound shattered the silence.

Anne jumped.

The flower was gone.

She looked around.

Nothing.

She rushed to her door and opened it.

Ophelia was already outside.

Her face was pale.

“Did you see it?”

Anne looked at her.

“See what?”

“The flower.”

Anne’s heart dropped.

“You saw it?”

“It was on my table.”

Anne stared at her.

“Mine was on the floor.”

Ophelia swallowed.

“What happened to yours?”

“It disappeared.”

Ophelia looked back into her room.

“Mine too.”

They stood silently.

Then Nora opened her door.

“I heard you.”

Mae appeared behind her.

“What’s happening?”

Before either could answer, Wren came out.

She was holding something.

A white flower.

Mae stared.

“Where did you get that?”

Wren looked down.

“It was on my pillow.”

The six women gathered in the corridor.

Anne looked from one to another.

“Did everyone find one?”

Nora shook her head.

“No.”

Mae looked frightened.

“I didn’t.”

Isolde shook her head.

“Neither did I.”

Ophelia looked at Anne.

“So only three of us?”

Wren’s expression was unreadable.

She held the flower carefully.

Then she noticed something.

There was writing on the stem.

Tiny letters.

She brought it closer to the light.

Her face changed.

“What?”

Anne stepped closer.

Wren turned the flower.

The writing was clear.

SHE REMEMBERS THREE.

Nobody understood what it meant.

“Who remembers three?” Nora asked.

Wren shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Then the flower in her hand suddenly blackened.

The petals shrivelled.

Wren dropped it.

Everyone stepped back.

The flower fell to the floor.

Dead.

Later that night, the dormitory was silent again.

But sleep did not come easily.

Anne lay awake.

She thought about the six of them.

Their evaluation.

Their assignment.

Their uniforms.

The old records.

The strange list.

The woman beneath the tree.

The flowers.

The voices.

Everything seemed connected.

Yet she couldn’t see how.

She closed her eyes.

Eventually, exhaustion won.

Anne fell asleep.

And dreamed.

She was standing in the St. Annex chapel.

But the chapel was different.

Older.

Darker.

The candles were burning.

The pews were filled with women.

All of them wearing the same black habit.

Anne tried to move.

She couldn’t.

Someone was standing at the altar.

A woman.

Her back was turned.

Anne couldn’t see her face.

The woman whispered something.

Anne tried to hear.

Nothing.

Then the woman turned.

Anne woke.

Her heart was pounding.

She sat upright.

It was still dark.

But someone was sitting at the foot of her bed.

Anne couldn’t breathe.

A woman.

Long hair.

White clothing.

Her head was bowed.

Anne wanted to scream.

The woman slowly raised her face.

Anne saw her eyes.

Not hollow.

Not monstrous.

Just terribly sad.

Anne’s lips trembled.

“Who are you?”

The woman didn’t answer.

She lifted one hand.

Pointed toward the door.

Then whispered:

“Not yet.”

Anne blinked.

The woman was gone.

The room was empty.

Anne remained frozen.

She looked at the clock.

3:17.

The same time the dormitory clock had stopped.

Then she heard something from the hallway.

A soft female voice.

Singing.

“Sierra…”

Anne pulled the blanket around herself.

The voice continued.

But this time, there was something different about it.

The singer wasn’t singing the old words.

She was singing something Anne had never heard before.

A line.

Only one.

And Anne couldn’t understand every word.

But she heard enough.

“…they lied…”

The singing stopped.

Anne stared into the darkness.

Somewhere beyond her room, a door creaked.

Then closed.

Morning came.

The sisters gathered for breakfast.

Nobody spoke about the night.

Not at first.

Mae finally broke the silence.

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Neither did I,” Nora admitted.

Ophelia looked at Anne.

“Did you hear singing?”

Anne nodded.

Wren looked up.

“What did it say?”

Anne hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

Anne looked down at her hands.

“It sounded like…”

She stopped.

“Like what?”

Anne whispered:

“Like someone was saying they lied.”

Silence fell around the table.

Isolde looked toward the chapel.

Father Elias entered the dining hall.

The conversation immediately stopped.

He greeted them.

Then his eyes moved across the six sisters.

He paused when he reached Ophelia.

Only for a second.

But Anne noticed.

So did Wren.

Father Elias looked away.

“Today is an important day.”

The sisters listened.

“You will continue your formation.”

He smiled.

“And tomorrow, you will begin preparations for your first Communion.”

Ophelia’s face brightened.

Mae smiled.

Nora clasped her hands.

Anne felt relieved.

Something holy.

Something familiar.

Something safe.

They had no idea that the moment they were celebrating was already waiting for them.

And somewhere inside St. Annex, beneath centuries of stone and silence, something stirred.

Not yet.

Not today.

The time had not come.

But it was getting closer.

Because the first night had passed.

And St. Annex had learned their names.