Madeline found herself in darkness and had banged shin and toe into some piece of furniture 

********

It was time to ‘bite the bullet’ and test it out. If this unidentifiable object was unable to support me, at least I didn’t have far to fall. 

I tentatively lowered myself as one would employing a block and tackle pulley. As my heavily padded butt made contact with the surface, I didn't sense any ‘memory foam mattress top’ comfort. It was a board. 

Resting my entire body upon this tentative support, with my shaky elbows on trembling knees, I knew I had to figure out what was going on and where I was, and even more importantly where Cordelia was being held.

Was my dear friend lying on a rough piece of plywood in another frigid room with no light, wondering where she was or where I had been swallowed up. It was my greatest hope, she was still outside in the light, worried someone had abducted me.  

*******

I had to get out of that room to explore further. I’d groped around the walls and the air, hoping to detect a switch or pull-string. There was no evidence of light switches or lamps or candles. 

I had estimated where the doorway would be and did the ‘Tim Conway shuffle’ ‘til I could feel a broadening of breathing space. Even the silence echoed through a long hallway. We must have been being kept underground. There was a weak glow of a wall lantern guiding me. 

As I continued tracing more stone walls along a widening corridor, my detective-like instinct caused me to question, more intently, where I was and what this place was. 

******
I was brought back to the present moment.  At least I thought it was the present moment.  A bell was clanging somewhere within one of the adjoining reverberating rooms.

As I headed out with determination, seeking its source, my reconnaissance mission was rudely interrupted by a male voice. 

"Brother Samuel, you are late for prayer. See me after, for your penance." 

Since his rebuking was directed toward me, I glanced down the corridor I’d just tip-toed up, with throbbing toe and shin. There was no one there in the shimmering shadows. 

I had no idea who he was or who Brother Samuel was. He spoke with authority. I had the feeling I'd better find where the others were for this prayer I allegedly was tardy for. 

I hoped, following the sound trail of the bell would lead me to where others were and where I was supposed to be. 

Fortunately, for some reason, everyone was lying on their stomachs. Copying them, I situated myself in the same position on the grey cold stone floor.  I immediately experienced great discomfort. 

I did not have to struggle, as one might expect, with how to adjust my breasts to the icy stone. I would either need to tuck and tape as the drag queens do or find an athletic cup. I was no longer a woman. 

This new way of life was just not going to work out. I planned to pull someone aside and ask them what they do. One of my friends who was a nun, had given me valuable information about their habits or dresses.

I can already hear Sr. Barbara who became 'just Barbara' correcting me about how everyone mistakenly uses the word ‘nun’ for someone who was in an active community. They were teachers and could leave their convent, unlike these Benedictine monks.  

When my friends and I occasionally visited a group in Vermont, not more than an hour away, we observed they wore thick black robes, with the exception of ‘newbies’, called Novices; they wore white robes.

Barbara told me the cloth her habit was made of, was five yards of a thick heavy material called serge. I suspect that was what was insulating me from the chill below. 

Where there was sufficient light, I looked at just what I was wearing. I don’t know if it were to my advantage or not, but I was wearing white.

Monks spoke only of necessity. Well, it was of necessity for me to find out what the other guys do with their bulky protrusion, I referred to as a ‘unit’. 

Something was going to have to be done about this torture, on these rolling solid bubbles for a floor. My worst fear was that they would tell me, ‘It is part of the deal’. What if they say 'You'll get used to it'? What shall I ever do then?

I was fortunate to hear one of the other men address my punisher as Abbott Richard. He seemed to be the superior here. I think they are called ‘a Prior’. 

I soon found what a penance was. Abbott Richard said, “Stand ready at the Chapel door for the day. Report one hour before  the others, for each hour for prayer.” 

I was told if I had to relieve myself, I was granted permission to do so and to immediately return to carry out my penance. I was reminded prayer times were three hours apart.

I counted myself fortunate because I didn't have to lie prostate, I mean prostrate on that cold floor all day. I hoped I would never commit any 'No… no's' to warrant that.

Later, I did see an occasional brother spending the entire day lying face-down in the discomfort of rough stone. I didn’t want my mind to go working, to figure out or begin to imagine what he must have done to warrant that penance, or even who it was, in case it was one of my present-day friends.