AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“If not, why would you have come here?”
I brushed my hand through my hair and took a deep breath in through the nose. “Curiosity,” I said, leaning my head against the hard, wooden wall behind me.
“Confession. That is why you are here. That is how I can help you.” He paused. “Unburden yourself upon me, and by the grace of God, I will absolve you of your sins.”
A smirk curled the corner of my mouth. “By the grace ofGod…” I echoed, pushing the last word out through my teeth. “Where should I begin, father?”
“At the beginning. I am here to listen.”
I allowed myself a moment to consider the priest’s words. This was a man who had devoted his entire life in service to God, to my creator. A man who believed he could absolve the sins of another, simply because they asked forgiveness.
He did not know what I knew.
He did not know the capricious, vengeful nature of the deity who brought me into Her world. But in truth, Iwascurious. What if this man did have a connection to God that even I didn’t? What if he could reach Her where I and the rest of my people could not?
I owed it to myself to explore this option. If he could indeed speak to God, then maybe my problems were solved. If he could not… I would have to look elsewhere for answers to the questions that kept me up at night and plagued my every waking moment.
“I am impure,” I said, having chosen my words.
“You have impure thoughts?” ventured the priest.
“No, father. I am an impure being. Imperfect. Tarnished. I am the son of a self-righteous, vengeful, petty creator who never once cared about the damage She could inflict on the people she claimed to care about.”
“Often our parents don’t know how to show us the extent of their love. They are only human, after all. Flawed. Imperfect, as you say.”
I turned my gaze to the side and stared at the man on the other side of the partition. It was difficult to get a clear image of his face, but I didn’t need to see his face to know what he looked like. He was old, his grey hair receding, his skin pulled over hisbones like there wasn’t much left of him. He had lived a long, long life mostly spent in service of other people.
Had it not been his choice to live in such a way, I would not have had any respect for him.
“I should not be imperfect,” I said. “I should be a being of purest Light, one of the most magnificent creatures in all of creation, but I am here, rolling around in the dirt and the filth like a squealing sow.”
“Pride is a sin, my son. The Bible teaches as much.”
“Pride… pride is a tool, father. A means to an end.”
“What end?”
“Perfection, of course. The meek cannot walk the path of perfection; this is a privilege only for the prideful, for those who believe they are better. Through that belief, theybecomebetter.”
“Blessed are the meek. Through humility, we can achieve grace.”
“I yearn for grace, father. I lust for it. I desire it more than anything else.”
The priest slightly nodded, then closed his eyes. He folded his hands on top of his stomach, then sighed. “It is never too late to walk the path of humbleness. Simply name your sins, ask for forgiveness, and God will grant this to you through me.”
I tilted my head slightly to the side, regarding the mortal curiously. “Very well,” I said. My jaw clenched. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I have lied, I have hurt, I have manipulated, abused, and tortured. I have killed with my bare hands. I have exulted in the shedding of blood, worshipped false idols, and taken all the flesh I wanted without asking. I want God to forgive me.”
The priest turned his head up to look at me. He could not see me, not fully, not through the partition. Mortals were not able to perceive angels, not without being raptured, and theninstantly—and violently—killed. But there were ways to make them perceive us safely, if only you knew the secrets of creation.
And I did.
To the priest’s credit, his expression was stoic. His face was not that of a man wracked with fear, or horror, or even disgust because he did not believe the words I had just uttered. “You are speaking in metaphors again,” said the priest.
“Are you calling me a liar?” I asked, my voice rising.
Somewhere outside the confessional, a baby began to shriek in response to the sudden, sharp raising of my voice. For a moment, just a moment, I felt something rumble inside of me. It wasn’t hatred, or loathing, or annoyance. Those emotions were common to me, far too common.
This emotion was… soothing.
