The sound of the sisters’ habits swishing against cold stones filled the pathways along the edges of the courtyard. It was a calming sound, gentle and swift. Marigold lingered in the back of the cluster. She was tired. Her sleep had been replaced by vivid and fantastic and terrifying visions.
The visions came to her as the other sisters said they might. She was alone, scrubbing the chapel floors. There was bright light, blurriness, a shift into a waking dream. Everything became outlined by a bright and colorful brushstroke filled with white. When she blinked, it was like closing and opening the shutters in her room. The visions had continued every day for weeks now.