Two Truths and a Lie: Nun on the Run

In this mini-series, I am offering up three short stories, two of them based on true stories (ie: true in spirit, not necessarily to the letter), the other a total fabrication. You decide.

1. Nun On The Run

A pickpocket tried to steal my purse in Rome. He might have succeeded had it not been for the nun I was traveling with. She hit him over the head with a large brown leather satchel, and before he could get back on his feet we were off at a run. He chased us. Down Piazza Navona to the Bridge of Angels. We ran faster. Up a sidestreet and into the throng of people milling about Vatican City, the nun’s billowing brown robes whipping me in the face, so that I didn’t see where we were until she stopped suddenly, and I found myself lined up to get into St. Peter’s Basilica

Just when I thought we were safe, the swiss guard at the entrance glanced at my bare legs and barred the gate. “Don’t be ridiculous,” my aunt told him, as she tried to push past him. But he was not intimidated by a nun, and shook his head. We backed away, and sidled out to the square, where the thief stood idly. Until he saw us, that is.. And once again, we were off. This time, the nun led me around the side. We snuck across the path, and were pleased to see a guard stop our thief. We were less pleased when he turned his attention on us. Don’t look, warned Val. Pretend you don’t see him. Again, we started to run, the swiss guard following us this time, and what a comic trio we must have made: Squat brown nun, me, and the colourful guard. Valerie led me through a half hidden gate and shut it. Alone, we caught our breath and then navigated our way through to the Sistene Chapel and out into Borgia Courtyard where we came face to face with the pope, who held up his hand in blessing and then walked away. Then, casually as you please, we left Vatican City, pausing at the post office to buy stamps, and made our way back to the convent.

Truth or Lie?