Nun Massacre

By Puppet Combo and Regina Watts

You've played the game, now read the book! The second novelization in Puppet Combo's VHS Terrors Series: Nun Massacre, puts you right in the middle of a classic 80s SLASHER!

Dawn and her friends have just graduated high school and are celebrating with one last party. But this is n

• Language: English
• Publisher: Puppet Combo
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735900834

Puppet Combo

Influenced by slasher movies and low-poly survival horror titles from the PS1 and PS2 eras of gaming, Puppet Combo® is a prolific studio whose titles range from such nightmarish offerings like POWER DRILL MASSACRE to the more conceptually surreal FEED ME, BILLY. BABYSITTER BLOODBATH is the company's first collaborative novelization. Check out Puppet Combo®'s website for more on its games, including STAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Book preview

SISTER EUPHEMIA WAS as afraid of Mother Apollonia as the children were. Maybe more.

A floorboard creaked and the young nun froze. Her stomach tightened with dread. She held her breath and listened to the halls of the school, begging for more information.

Euphemia didn’t want to gossip about the Mother Superior. The truth was, she wouldn’t have told a soul how she felt…but she didn’t have to. It was all over her face when Mother Apollonia’s heavy footsteps marched past her office or stormed down the stairs. Things got to be so bad that Euphemia found herself creeping around the school as though she were a student. Always listening for the slightest footfall that might alert her to Apollonia’s arrival.

If the Lord saw fit to watch out for her in such a time, Euphemia could sometimes sneak into an empty classroom or dart down a hall—anywhere out of the path of the Mother Superior. It wasn’t that Euphemia was in any way lazy: the truth was that she did a great deal of work around the school, far more than some of her fellow Sisters.

Yet nothing she did could please the elder nun, who, seeing Euphemia pausing to watch the birds through a window, would snap her fingers as though the younger nun were a dog. While, blushing, Euphemia jumped to attention, Apollonia might say something like, Idle hands, Sister! I noticed you haven’t dusted the bookshelves in the western wing for some time.

And that wasn’t so bad…but it could get bad.

For some reason, with the children, it was always bad.

Euphemia truly despised watching Apollonia interact with their students. The old witch ignored the children completely until she was in a foul mood. Then, much as with the nuns, the person on whom her cold eye landed became subject to her heinous whims. And this didn’t even include the classes she taught: Euphemia heard rumors that Apollonia’s unlucky pupils were particularly maltreated.

But Euphemia didn’t like to dwell on these things. Who did? Bad things happened to everyone in life, after all…the best thing was to simply soldier on. To provide the gentle influence the children needed to balance out Apollonia’s harsh tutelage.

The Good Lord had put Euphemia there for just such a purpose, no doubt. There was no sense in doing something as outrageous as reporting the foul behavior.

After all…if she worked hard, kept improving her relationship with God, and didn’t rock the Church’s boat, Euphemia might be Mother Superior after Apollonia died. Then the convent and the school it ran would be capable of some reform! Wouldn’t that be nice. What a bastion of Godly education it would be!

Until then, it would resemble its present custodian: grim and bleak, its somewhat dim halls rendered all the more frighteningly dark beginning with the earliest hours of each night.

Someday, school. Someday! It, like the children and like Euphemia, would just have to get through the final years of Apollonia’s life. Until then, Euphemia would remain skittish: frozen in hallways, looking for an escape route, her breath held to catch the sound of Apollonia’s footsteps.

Another floorboard creaked.

Euphemia released the breath she’d been holding. That step was much too light to belong to the Mother Superior!

Crossing herself, Euphemia resumed her usual evening path through the school and continued extinguishing lights as she went. She paused by a bathroom and, leaning in, snapped off the switch for the night.

When she leaned back out, who should be standing at the hallway’s end but little Janie McDonnell?

Goodness, Janie! Euphemia laughed, her hand upon her suddenly racing heart. You scared me.

Oh, said the girl, her tone listless with exhaustion after another long day in the halls of St. Cecilia’s. Sorry. I thought you were Mother Apollonia.

With a light laugh, Sister Euphemia shook her head. There’s a frightful thought!

Janie smiled weakly at the kinder nun’s conspiratorial camaraderie. It was an unnerving smile. The girl’s lips moved, but her blue eyes—vast orbs once full of light—did not.

Those eyes were not the only things that had changed during Janie’s time in the school. Her very face had lost the glow of childhood. At nine, the adolescent had already achieved the grim aura of adults.

Suddenly overcome with a spate of nervousness, Euphemia reminded herself that she was the only adult in the hall at the moment.

Now, Janie, she said with a glance around, you know you ought to be in bed right now.

Yes, said Janie in that same soft tone, her hollow voice drifting off like the wind.

Did you need something?

Janie didn’t answer.

It was odd. She had become very quiet these days, but even by Janie’s standards, she was acting withdrawn. Sister Euphemia shared a glance with the jolly clown doll clutched in the girl’s arm.

Was Janie sleepwalking? Her eyes were open, but Euphemia had heard that some people could sleepwalk—even sleeptalk—very convincingly. Perhaps the staff needed to keep an eye on her at night. Euphemia put a kindly hand on Janie’s shoulder and tried to urge her away.

Janie stayed so still she might as well have been a statue.

Come along, Janie…Janie! Laughing despite herself, (a nervous laugh, a high bird’s laugh somehow pleading in its twittering), Euphemia said unsteadily, Aren’t you just a little Saint Lucy! Rooted right to the spot…

At last, a true smile twisted across the girl’s features. A dimple appeared in her cheek as she turned to look eagerly into Euphemia’s face. Here was a hint of the Janie who first came through those boarding school doors a mere handful of months before: bright and high-spirited and more than a little giddy. All the qualities that tended to get children sent to schools like this one.

I love Saint Lucy, enthused the girl. She’s my favorite. They wanted to do bad things to her, huh, Sister Euphemia?

They did, said Euphemia sadly, finally getting Janie into motion. Hand lightly on Janie’s shoulder, the nun guided her toward the stairs and the floor where the students slept. Yes, indeed. They wanted to take her to a place where her life would no longer be her own, and where her body would be subject to terrible things. But she wanted to devote her body and soul to Christ.

So instead—Janie’s beaming grin never faltered, and Euphemia found it extremely unnerving—she pulled out her own eyes! Right, Sister Euphemia? And then she put them on a plate, like how you showed us in that painting.

For some reason, such a sentence sent a strange bolt of guilt running through the nun. But, why…what could be inappropriate about teaching the children the lives of the Catholic martyrs? It was part of their curriculum. The nuns did their best to explain everything in an age-appropriate fashion, of course, but when all was said and done the children were going to hear the stories at some point. It had might as well be introduced early in their education. Then they might spend a lifetime closely acquainted with the miraculous gifts God bestowed upon believers willing to sacrifice their bodies in the name of the faith.

That’s true, agreed Euphemia as they made it to the landing of the stairs. Some sources say she gouged out her own eyes, and some say somebody else did it to punish her. But, you know—when they went to bury her, they discovered the Lord had restored her eyes!

Janie laughed wildly at that. Euphemia’s diaphragm tightened with panic. Apollonia would hear the girl for sure. The nun paused there on the landing to listen as closely as she could. At the same time, she asked the girl, Just what’s so funny?

"Because! What good are her eyes when she’s dead?"

The hallway in the floor above them creaked. One step: then another. Heavy, determined; drawn by the sound of a child’s laughter.

All the blood drained from Euphemia’s face.

Oblivious, Janie went on with a shake of her head, If God wanted anybody to listen to Him, He should have kept Lucy from going through all that in the first place! Or, if it had to be that way, He should have made the eyeballs of the people torturing her fall out! Or explode.

The girl added this last thought with a morbid laugh.

Euphemia was too busy panicking to pay her any attention now. Mother Apollonia was coming right this way, and here they were on the stairs!

Oh, how could she turn them around without Janie noticing some ill feelings within the convent of the school? It wasn’t appropriate for the students to know how Euphemia and the others feared Apollonia…yet fight or flight had a powerful hold on the human mind.

Euphemia was just in the process of turning Janie around without worrying about an explanation when, to her horror, Mother Apollonia’s harsh tone cut through the peals of Janie’s laughter.

Janie? Is that you?

Euphemia’s eyes squeezed shut.

Exhaling, the young nun forced herself to call, And me, Mother Apollonia!

The pace of the footsteps increased. By some miracle, Sister Euphemia managed to produce a smile. Apollonia appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Well! There’s one of our teachers…I have no idea where the other Sisters are lurking about tonight. Just what are you doing here with Janie, Euphemia? Did you find her wandering around again?"

If God really cared about me, Janie said to Apollonia, her laughter snapping off like a light and her demeanor growing ice cold, He would make your eyes explode.

Euphemia’s stomach flipped. The mouths of babes, as it was said!

Mother Apollonia’s eyes didn’t explode, but they did bug from her head. Her thin lips falling open in a great ‘O’ of shock, Apollonia seemingly struggled to process this suggestion. Euphemia, catching Janie by the shoulders, looked at the girl and tried to figure out if she understood what she’d just done. Now, Janie! That’s not a very nice thing to—

You come with me right this instant! Euphemia, get away from her.

Oh, but Mother Apollonia, I think she’s just tir—

Apollonia’s backhanded slap was as quick as the bite of a cobra. A flame exploded across Euphemia’s face and was quickly followed by a wave of overwhelming numbness. Eyes filling with tears against the pain and humiliation, Euphemia stumbled back from the child.

One hand unconsciously pressed to her stinging cheek.

If she’s tired, she’d ought to have stayed in bed…come with me, you little brat.

With a claw-like grip, Apollonia snatched Janie by the wrist and dragged her down the stairs.

Euphemia knew what was next. Soon the two would be behind the door of Apollonia’s office…then, through the frosted glass, all manner of terrible cries would pierce Euphemia’s heart.

Ah! Why did she respond when Apollonia called out?

Don’t worry, Sister Euphemia, said Janie over her shoulder before being pulled out of sight. With her free hand, she waved her clown toy. Even if God won’t protect me, Bongo will.

Then Janie was gone, and so was Apollonia.

Euphemia could breathe again, but not without shame to think of what Janie now endured. Inspecting her fingers to make sure no skin had broken, Euphemia considered returning to the bathroom to investigate her face…but, if no blood was to be seen, there was really nothing to be done. She’d put some ice on it once she made sure the dormitory lights were out.

What had Apollonia been doing upstairs? Whatever it was, the answer wasn’t turning off lights. Euphemia shook her head in annoyance. What did the woman do around there? Other than frighten children, of course. Well! Someday, when Euphemia was Mother Superior…

Sister Euphemia barely had time to spiral into her usual grandiose thoughts of self-justification for her complicity in child abuse. She stepped past the dormitory where Janie generally slept. Seeing as the light was off, Euphemia would have ignored it if she hadn’t stepped in something wet.

The nun stepped back, glancing down at the wet hem of her habit. Water? What could be leaking from that room? Did a pipe burst somewhere? Or—maybe it was the doing of that new air conditioning system.