Saturday, March 15, 2014


WARNING! Strong language.

The candles gently flickered. The door to the confessional opened. Tall and dignified, Father Louis took a couple steps forward and stopped. He looked at me, his deeply set eyes obscured by shadows cast by the dim candlelight. The high walls made the distance between us much more prominent. I finished my prayer and got up.

“Felix,” he said in his soothing voice. “Just what are you doing here at this hour?”

We were the only people in the church. His voice, though quiet, echoed throughout the whole building.

“Look, Father, I know this is weird,” I said as I approached him. He made a small step backwards. His kind face expressing an emotion I could not wrap my head around. “But you’re the only one I can turn to now. The police keeps sending me home, no one wants to talk to me.”

“Listen, Felix,” his voice trembled a bit. “We’ve already talked about this. Jonah is gone. He’s dead. And you can’t bring him back, no matter what you do. Revenge doesn’t solve anything.”

“Please,” I said. The shadows of the saints etched in stone hovered over me, staring down. I felt small, helpless. Judged. “I promise I won’t do anything like that. I just want to know what happened.”

“What makes you think I know ?” his voice was somehow calming.

“You do, don’t you?”


“Please. I know you’re lying. You’ve been lying to me for all those years. We’ve known each other even longer. I was there when you baptized Jonah.”

“Go back home, Felix.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” my voice was raised. I somehow ended up right in the middle of the building. The priest was standing before the altar. He slowly went up to me. I still couldn’t make out his eyes, but his silver hair gleamed orange in the candlelight.

“Trust me,” he whispered into my ear. “It’s better this way.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ say it’s better like this,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like to be living like this. You don’t know what it’s like to lose your brother to some mother fuckin’ lunatic.”

“Felix,” he placed his arm on my shoulder. “You do not wish to meet this man. Deep down, you know it.”

He took his hand off my shoulder and turned to face the altar. He raised his head so that his eyes met the pained gaze of the Messiah on the crucifix. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, Father Louis let out a sigh.

“I do know the man. His confessions have moved me for all those years. How tragic and pathetic his state was. Had he sought help earlier, such a tragedy might have been averted. They were so close…”

“Why are you telling me this now? Who is he? What do I care about his confessions? I thought you guys had to keep that a secret.”

I suddenly saw him standing face to me. I could see his kind blue eyes looking at me. I could feel his sympathy. His pity. His helplessness. A thought arose deep within me. A dark one. I dismissed it.

“Felix, when was the last time you confessed your sins?”

“I… I can’t really remember,” I turned away from him. I really couldn’t. Frankly, there were a lot of things about my recent memory that were pretty spotty. Blanks, that I couldn’t fill out for the life of me. Blanks that would not fill out. An abyss I was too afraid to gaze into.

“That’s alright,” he smiled at me yet again and beckoned me to follow him as he made his way to the confession booth. “It’s never too late to confess again.”

“That’s not what I-“

“I know. I know. But it’s the only way I believe I can help you now.”

The shadows obscured his face again. Many candles had already burned out, the light ever dimmer. I approached the booth, opened the small door and knelt down on the cold wooden step. Once again, the memory stirred. I let a blank fill out. I mustered all my courage to let it finish. Now, everything could make sense again. My hands clasped together, I began to weep. I could finally recall my last confession.

“I so wanted to spare you this, Felix,” Father Louis’ voice trembled. “I really did.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”


  1. Good strong short, great twist, says much without saying anything obvious at the end. Smart writing. Well done.

    1. Thank you very much! I hope my future stories won't disappoint you ;)