Deus Vult
Шрифт:
Narrator
In cellar’s dark where shadows play,
He prowled, a wolf amid the stray.
With callous hands and eyes agleam,
He brought forth fear like some dark dream.
(Ondrej approaches one of the nuns, young and frail, her hands trembling at his presence. At first, he stands near, as if by chance, but soon his eyes transform with a carnal hunger.)
Pastor Ondrej
(in a low, scornful tone)
“Oh, sisters bound by piety,
Your meekness brings such joy to me.
So pure you serve in grace so bright—
Yet here, in shadows, quenched is light.”
(His hand suddenly grabs her by the waist, pressing into her habit with rough fingers. She recoils, but Ondrej only comes closer, forcing her against the wall. His hand roams, lingering on her chest before sliding down toward her thigh.)
Young Nun
(voice trembling, attempting to break free)
“Please, Father… I beg you, no…”
Pastor Ondrej
(with a twisted grin, refusing to release her)
“Shh, dear child, you serve so well.
A vessel for His grace to dwell.”
(He continues his ruthless grip on her body, his hands moving across her legs, making her flinch with fear and revulsion. Tears fill her eyes, but her cries stay locked inside her throat—there is no one here who could help. His face moves closer, the vile smell of wine mingling with his heated whisper.)
Narrator
His fingers pressed with cruel delight,
As shadows deepened in the night.
No mercy held within his gaze—
For him, her fear was but a praise.
(Tears fall down her cheeks, but she dares not scream, her prayers left unheard. Yet just as his hands grew more insistent, a sudden knock resounds from above—sharp and loud, forcing him to pull away, seething at the unexpected intrusion.)
Pastor Ondrej
(furious, letting go of her)
“Who dares disturb this holy hour?”
(He ascends the stairs quickly, leaving the trembling nun alone in the cellar. At the top of the stairs stands Anezka, bathed in soft moonlight, her face radiating innocence and determination.)
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