The Convent on Blackmoor Hill

I remember the first time I stood gazing up at the convent on Blackmoor Hill. I was barely seven years old and I was helping my mother take some tinned food to give to the nuns’ foodbank collection. I stared up at those towering stone walls so dense and macabre, it reminded me of a prison I’d seen on TV. We couldn’t even go all the way into the convent, just into a long corridor which led to a hatch in the wall where we could leave our donations. I tried to peek through the gap at the nuns, desperate to understand why they remained hidden behind that wall. I never saw them, just a slightly withered hand, sweeping the box of donations away and behind the hatch.

As we left, my mother explained that the nuns were part of a silent order; a commune that locked themselves away from the outside world. There was an altar inside the convent in which the sisters passed through, like a passage to another realm but once they passed the threshold, they left their old life behind and entered one of isolation. They lived their whole lives behind the stone wall and died there. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose such a life; it seemed so boring and lonely. Why would anyone want to be locked up like a prisoner? Now I know, the wall was not designed to lock the sisters in, it was to keep danger out.

I could never have imagined that 18 years after I first saw that convent, I would be back as a young woman. The sisters had since left the building, moving to a smaller space and leaving the historical building to the homeless charity I work for. It felt strange entering through the door that those women entered as they began a new chapter of their lives. I tried to put myself in their shoes as I crossed the threshold my mother had told me so much about. The thought of never seeing my family and friends again, it made my heart ache.

As October crept in, the workload began piling up. We were supposed to be opening shortly and there was still a lot of work on the site to do. We hadn’t even touched the rooms upstairs and had decided that we would just open the homeless centre up for day activities, one to one meetings, and to provide meals. Eventually we wanted to open it as alternative accommodation for the homeless. I worked late frequently, preparing for the grand opening. This particularnight was no different. My boss had volunteered me to give a presentation to the council explaining why we needed more funding to make the site fit for purpose. I was tweaking some of my notes when the site manager, Joe, came in.

“Burning the midnight oil again Cass?” Joe asked with a grin that met his eyes.

“You know me Jim, all about the job.” I replied gloomily.

“You need to get a hobby love! In all seriousness, I do need to kick you out now. It’s coming up for 8 o’clock and I need to lock up.”

“Oh come on, I’m nearly finished! Why don’t you head out? I’ve got a set of keys and can lock up when I’m done.”

“Are you sure? If you don’t mind Cass, my missus will have me guts out if I’m late again!”

“It’s fine Jim, go home, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night love, don’t wake up the nuns.”

“Will you just get lost!” With that, he left with a snigger.

After I had double checked the presentation slides and the equipment was working, I returned to the office to start packing up when a strange presence on the CCTV camera caught my eye. A hooded figure in the carpark. I sighed deeply – probably kids messing about. I went outside to politely tell them that this was private property and if they didn’t want me to call the police, they ought to piss off. I shone the torch on my phone throughout the car park… Nothing and no-one! I couldn’t believe how dark it was already and I was still working. Joe was right; I did need a hobby! I wrapped my hoodie tighter around my body and headed back inside to escape the autumn chill.

As I crept back through the door, I noticed all the lights were off. I tried the switch on the wall, flipping it on and off repeatedly.

“Shit,” I exclaimed; no luck! I took my phone out again to call Joe, and it flashed to remind me that my battery was running low. “Yes, I am fully aware of that” I said to myself as the phone went straight to Joe’s voicemail.

“Shit!” I was about to call it a day, gather my things, and head home for the night when I heard a rustling above me.

Was someone still here? Surely not, only I was crazy enough to be working at this time. I heard the rustling again, this time louder. I approached the staircase and called upstairs: “Hello? Is anyone there?” No answer. The rustling continued. Perhaps someone had broken in. I thought about calling the police but then again, if they came all the way out and there was nothing there, or it was just a rat, they’d probably arrest me for wasting police time. I placed a shaking hand on the wooden banister and began to climb the straining staircase.

Other than the dim torch from my phone, there was nothing but blackness enveloping me; suffocating me. I tried to soothe my inner child and assure myself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The reverberation of my jagged breath gave me away, however. I walked feebly as I investigated the halls where the sisters once slept.

“Don’t wake the nuns, Cass.” Joe’s sniggers echoed in my head. I try to swallow the massive lump that’s suddenly formed throat. I took a few, slow deep breaths, my eyes closed against the vast nothingness – as if it would make any difference!

“I will not give in to my childish fears, I will not give in to my childish fears,” I murmured.

BANG!

The loud crash came from further down the hall and I let out a deafening scream. My chest felt tight against the pounding of my heart, and my body felt heavy, like when you’re wading through deep water and a pushing current. My back collided with the stone wall behind me and I slid to the cold, damp ground.

I caught my breath and told myself there was a rational explanation for this. Maybe somebody had left the window open and a bird had flown in. Perhaps there was a rat. Or, all of this was a figment of my heightened imagination and overworked brain. I was growing dizzy under the spell of darkness.

I should go home and get some sleep, I thought; Joe can deal with the power outage in the morning. I turned to head back downstairs and out of Blackmoor Convent when a glint of light in the window stopped me in my tracks. A flickering candle. How long had that been there? I took a hesitant step towards it as the battery on my phone relinquished its fight for life. The pounding of my heart returned to my ears and I could taste blood as I gnawed at the skin on the side of my thumb. I knew I should run but it called to me as if I were little more than a moth.

The candle whispered before snuffing out for good.