Humanity: The Fall

Father Dominik led me down a hallway I had never been through before, though it looked identical to all the others I had seen. He didn't seem happy and spoke very little. Whenever I slowed down, as I had recently started tiring more easily, he would simply push me forward.

We walked for several minutes past countless identical, monotonous doors until we reached a larger passageway. From his pocket, he pulled out a large bunch of keys and carefully examined them until he found a big one. He used it to unlock a door. When he pushed it open, I saw steep, spiral stairs leading upward.

After climbing a few steps, it started to get harder for me. I began stumbling on each step and wanted to sit down, but Father Dominik grabbed me by the collar of my robe and started pulling me. Eventually, we reached a narrow corridor, one side of which was adorned with colorful stained-glass windows. There was blue, green, yellow, red—each color seemed to glow, casting a vibrant light onto the walls. Together, they formed intricate scenes, all, of course, religious in nature.

I wanted to stop and admire the colors and images, but Father Dominik wasn't patient. He kept pulling me along every time I slowed down.

When we passed through the narrow hallway, we came to a wider area with several doors. Father Dominik led me to the second one and told me this would be my dormitory, instructing me to settle in and ask about my responsibilities. Then, without waiting, he turned and walked away quickly, his pace brisk and unwilling.

I pushed the door ajar and immediately heard the murmur of voices. As soon as I stepped inside, the voices fell silent. I found myself in a small corridor that turned sharply to the right after a few meters. Before I could move further, a small head peeked around the corner.

It was a boy not much older than me. He had short blond hair with straight bangs that just reached his eyebrows. As soon as he saw me, he smiled as wide as he could, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. He stepped out fully into view and waved at me.

He was wearing the same clothing as I was—a brown monk's robe—which wasn't surprising since it was all we had. I recognized the boy from lunch; I'd seen him before, though we had never spoken.

"Hi, I'm Alfredo. You can call me Al," he said with a wide smile, his enthusiasm catching me off guard.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. His friendliness felt almost foreign in this place where warmth was so rare. Still, I nodded slightly and managed to reply, "I'm..." I paused, realizing how strange it felt to introduce myself after so long without needing to. "I'm... Stefan."

Alfredo—or Al—grinned even wider, if that were possible. "Nice to meet you, Luke! Come on, I'll show you around," he said, gesturing for me to follow.

He led me into a room I quickly realized was the common area. It was a large space with high ceilings. The walls were made of stone, just like the rest of the monastery, but here they felt warmer, almost inviting, thanks to a massive fireplace where a lively flame crackled. Beside the fireplace was a neat stack of firewood, ready to keep the warmth alive.

The room was filled with boys, all of them around my age or a little older. As soon as I entered, they smiled and waved at me. Their warmth caught me off guard, but it made me feel unexpectedly comfortable. It wasn't just the pleasant warmth of the fire—it was the atmosphere, lively and welcoming, something I hadn't felt in years.

I smiled back, lifted a hand to wave, and then introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Luke," I said, my voice more confident than I expected.

The boys greeted me in return, their energy infectious, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I might belong.

As I stood there, surrounded by the boys and their welcoming smiles, my thoughts quickly drifted to Maria. I wished she could be here with me, experiencing this warmth and camaraderie. The boys began introducing themselves one by one. Some of them were familiar; I recognized a few from the meals we shared every day, though we had never spoken much.

The boys ranged in age from 10 to 15. Al explained that, like me, they were all brought here on their 10th birthday. Here, they shared a communal dormitory, a common room, and a bathroom. This was where they spent their time when they didn't have tasks or responsibilities. There were 33 of them at the moment. Al mentioned that once a boy turned 15, he was taken away somewhere else. None of them seemed to know where.

Until then, they worked together and did everything needed to keep the monastery running. They cared for the animals—feeding and watering them, cleaning their enclosures, and milking cows. They maintained the gardens, planting, watering, weeding, spraying, pruning, and harvesting vegetables, fruits, and flowers. They made cheese and performed countless other tasks to sustain life here.

I was captivated by his story. Of course, I had known that the food we ate had to come from somewhere, but I had never stopped to wonder where. Hearing about all the work they did, I felt a mix of awe and curiosity. For the first time in years, I felt like there was something to learn, something new to discover.

I met a few new boys as the introductions continued. Each of them had a different energy, but they all seemed friendly and eager to include me. There was Gary who told me to call him "Rock", a tall, lanky boy with curly hair who loved to joke around. Then there was Peter, quiet but with a kind smile that made it easy to trust him. I also met Quinn, who seemed to be one of the older boys; he carried himself with a sense of responsibility and kept an eye on everyone.

As they introduced themselves, I felt like I was stepping into a new world, one where I wasn't just an observer but part of something bigger. Each of them had a story, a life that mirrored mine in so many ways, and yet they had managed to form this little community within the walls of the monastery. It was comforting, even exciting, to think that I might finally have a place where I could belong.

Al stuck by my side the whole time, pointing people out and filling me in on the little details about everyone. His enthusiasm was contagious, and before long, I found myself smiling and laughing along with the others. 

Soon, it was time for lessons, as I had grown used to. However, the lessons here were nothing like the ones I had known before. The boys led me to a classroom where Father Dominik sat at a desk, glasses perched on his nose, deeply engrossed in a book. When we all took our seats and fell silent, he cleared his throat and stood up.

Father Dominik began by asking questions—questions none of us could answer. Then he would follow up with more questions, pushing and prodding until someone stumbled upon the beginnings of the answer he was looking for. The boys explained to me later that he taught theology and that I shouldn't worry about not understanding most of what he talked about. He was strict and meticulous, and many of the boys said his lessons were the most boring part of the day.

But to me, they made sense. His questions gave me something to think about when I had nothing else to occupy my mind. I found myself turning his questions over and over, trying to uncover the answers, to understand his way of thinking. The questions were deeply philosophical: Who is God? Who are we? How did everything begin, and why? What happens after death, and why must we die at all?

Though the subject matter was complex and often beyond my grasp, it gave me a sense of purpose, a way to focus my restless thoughts. Even when the others groaned about how dull it was, I found myself eager for these lessons, eager to explore the questions and ideas they sparked.

Besides Father Dominik, we had several other lessons throughout the week. Theology was three times a week, always after breakfast. After theology, we attended a health class taught by Brother Samuel. I remembered him from Sunday masses, where he led and supervised prayers. Here, he taught us about health and led physical activities. He seemed very friendly, and I liked him as a person, though I wasn't as fond of his subject.

I had always been of a slighter build, and the monastery's meager diet hadn't helped me gain much strength. Over the past year, I had started to tire more quickly and found it harder to perform tasks for long periods. It was during Brother Samuel's activities—running, jumping, and other physical exercises—that I realized just how difficult it was for me. I lagged far behind the other boys.

After class, Brother Samuel pulled me aside and reassured me. "Don't worry," he said with a kind smile. "You'll catch up soon and make great progress." I wanted to believe him, but doubt lingered in my mind.

After the lesson, we showered and had a short break in our rooms before heading to lunch. Lunch was the one time I got to see Maria. When I spotted her, she looked sad, her shoulders slumped and her eyes downcast. I approached her and managed to speak to her briefly. "Everything's fine," I whispered, trying to reassure her. "Take care of yourself, okay? We'll see each other every day here."

My words seemed to cheer her up, and I noticed she started eating. It was a small comfort, but seeing her brighten even a little made me feel lighter.

After lunch, we had an hour of rest before heading out to the monastery's courtyard. Up until now, we were only allowed in the smaller, more decorative front yard, but the main courtyard was on a completely different scale and served a real purpose. It was a massive area that sustained the monastery and its residents.

At the center, there were fenced-off large blue panels, which I later learned were used to generate electricity. Surrounding them were vegetable gardens, orchards, stables for cows, horses, and pigs, chicken coops, a well, and a large shed filled with tools and machinery. It was a bustling, functional space that felt worlds away from the quiet halls of the monastery.

An older man with a scruffy beard, thick mustache, unruly hair, and bushy eyebrows approached us. He divided us into groups and assigned tasks for the day. I was grouped with Al, Quinn, and three other boys whose names I couldn't quite remember, but they repeated them, they were Mike, Joseph and Miguel. Our task was to mow both the front and back yards.

The boys led me to the storage shed, where we gathered two hoes, several pairs of shears, and two lawnmowers. We divided the tasks among ourselves. For my first time, I was assigned to trim the grass with the shears where the mowers couldn't reach. I silently thanked the older man for the assignment—it allowed me to kneel while working, sparing me the strain of standing or pushing heavy equipment for hours.

It took nearly the entire afternoon to finish both yards, and by the time we were done, we were exhausted. Thankfully, we managed to shower before dinner. At the dining hall, I saw Maria again. She looked much happier today, chatting animatedly with a girl named Anna. Seeing her smile lifted my spirits.

I was so tired and hungry that even the bland porridge tasted surprisingly good. After dinner, we returned to the dormitory, and I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. It had been an exhausting day, but it was the first in a long time that felt fulfilling in its own way.