Sister Abigail, the devoted nun

Ever since she was a child Abigail knew she wanted to wear the habit when she came of age. The nuns at her Catholic school may have been strict, but Abigail took to the teachings of the church with a fervor that surprised her parents and thrilled her teachers. She was always the quiet, bookish type; while her classmates in her all-girl high school were flirting with boys and smoking after school, Abby devoted herself to her studies and dedicated herself to God. She excelled in school and even became team captain of the theological debate club.

Abby, as her few friends called her, was a pretty girl herself with long brown hair, delicate facial features, and a pleasing figure (which she did everything to hide) so some of the more adventurous girls for a time would try to induce her to join them when they snuck into the adjacent boys-only school during lunch hour. When Abby refused, they turned on her and relentlessly mocked her for the next four years in high school. She knew she couldn't save her sluttier classmates from sin, and she would not let herself be like Lot's wife and have pity when the administrators caught those hussies blowing school boys for money and cigarettes (or so she had heard). She didn't quite know what a "blowjob" entailed, but presumably it had something to do with mouths and male genitals, maybe blowing air on them like an electric fan? It was a mystery to Abby, and she kept it that way. In truth, she always resisted the temptation to gossip, for with gossip came scorn and judgment, but it was only God's place to judge.

Abby could have gone to a prestigious university or seminary school, but to do so would only serve the purpose of inflaming her pride, which she had no use for if she were to pursue her life's dream of becoming a nun like the dignified women who taught her. Instead, she entered into a convent within the parish church in the city, an isle of peace and holiness among all the hustle and sin surrounding it. After a year of quiet, contemplative service to the lord, she took her vows, shorn nearly all her long hair to wear the habit, and became a nun.

The life of a nun suited her, but in the dark corners of her mind, a part of her knew something was missing. To her embarrassment, she sometimes "wet her bed" as she understood it after nights of strange dreams. These "accidents" didn't bear most of the features of the accidents she had as a young child, but she had no other frame of reference for how to understand them. On those nights, she would dream of Christ himself coming to her bed and pressing his divine body against hers, as a man does to his wife. She could feel him within her, spiritually and physically, filling her with his divine love. She would feel his power surge through her body like a dam breaking to unleash a river, and then he would leave. She never spoke of these dreams, not even in confession, but they always lurked below the surface and would sometimes emerge when she did not expect it; more than once in prayer, while beholding the representation of Christ's nearly-naked body on the cross, she felt her shameful womanliness tingle.

Only a year into her service as a bride of Christ, a particularly interesting letter arrived at the church.