Chasing Faith Page 1

This is the first rough draft page to the novel I'm writing, hopefully it'll spark some interest.

 

"Forgive me father for I have sinned"

 

It was the same line - the same pattern - every sinner spoke once they took their place in the confession booth. It was nothing new to the priest who sat patiently on the other side of the booth containing a thin wall and screen dividing it equally, but it was satisfying to be their direct channel to God. He had already given his sermon and as usual, he retreated to the booth for those who needed to relieve themselves of their sins.  It was down to the last person out of a dozen others who spoke blandly about miniscule things, being meticulous about certain sins as if they had a bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Father Abel was ready to relax for the rest of this beautiful Sunday afternoon, maybe even take a small walk along the trail by his house, curving through wooded area to a meadow with a creek running alongside the trail; a mystical journey that could make the non-believer wonder if there really was a creator after all. 

 

"It has been 27 years since I have last confessed." A voice stated in a quiet but stern tone. It was a voice without emotion; a voice that hadn’t felt even the smallest form of sorrow

 

"It is good to have you back, son; the Lord smiles upon you for returning to confess your sins. What are your sins my child?" With this, the priest fell silent, allowing the man to admit his mortal sins but what came next was terrifying, with words that were twisted with what seemed to be pleasure.

 

"I have committed twenty three acts of murder since my last confession but that’s not the point.”  The statement was blunt, leaving only dead air within the booth but was interrupted with a continuation of the confession, “Five being in the last week. I have been paid thousands of dollars for some of my crimes and I have stolen thousands of dollars worth of merchandise and valuables from my victims.”

 

The priest was wide-eyed behind the screen. Why was this man even confessing, was this a game?  A joke?  Did he really believe this confession and a few Hail Mary’s would rectify such tragedies? A short breath escaped his lips as he had never heard of such sins in person; it was too much like a movie, or a poorly written book.  He quietly said a prayer to himself as the sinner continued.

 

“The last five of my victims are buried in five separate locations on the outskirts of the city.  One in the abandoned tire warehouse to the north, in the field to the east there are two under the large oak tree, to the west is a lovely woman whom was far too beautiful to let off so easily who now lays next to the river in the riverbank and to the south is her lover in a dumpster in an alley behind a sushi bar. For these are my sins….” A hanging moment left tension, as if on the other side of the screen whoever sat there was toying with such an innocent being.  The raise in pitch was unnecessary but apparent as the next part that came was obviously spoken through a crooked grin, “and I am solemnly sorry.”

 

There was a long silence as the priest nearly forgot to continue his part in the confession; he was brought back to reality with a single word from the confessor, "Father?"