I'm going to be posting my progress on my blog each day, so if any one wants to follow along you can see it here:
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
The man on the other side of the screen was tall. I could tell that much just from the shadow he cast; and he was broad at the shoulders.
“It has been–too long–since my last confession.”
There should have been more there, perhaps an inquiry, a request for clarification. But after a pause–
“Since then, I have…”
There were sins, so many sins. Mostly minor, although the number alone could have been enough to elicit a response. The list started with those, although the standard order was for the reverse.
As the sins went by, I thought about the man on the other side of the screen. I didn’t recognize him. I couldn’t make out any details, but he had the sort of presence that was hard to forget. But then again, this wasn’t my church. This wasn’t even my country. I was only here because I had been told that to be here, at this church, and that it had to be now. And when you are given a commandment, given as I had been… you don’t disobey.
The sins were greater now, although still far from grave. There was an undeniable sense though, of building towards something, of something drawing strength.
While the list continued, scarcely slowing, I thought of my journey. Of a span of miles nearly beyond count which lay behind me and those I knew yet lay ahead.
And then I paused. The lesser sins were finished, lain bare.
I heard the man, the priest, on the other side of the screen drawing a breath. He believed me finished. But no, there were three more sins that I had yet to confess.
“Forgive me Father, but I’m not finished.”
The breath stopped. I heard weight shifting and knew that the other man had settled back into his seat. Perhaps he had grown bored with my sins, drifting even as I had.
I started with the sin he was least likely to believe. Even a priest has limits and I was about to test his. I very nearly felt sorry for him. But I had been called to this church, to this priest, for him to hear my confession. And hear it he would.
“I confess to the sin of sorcery, of magics not of God’s making. Done with the noblest of intentions, but done nevertheless.”
Silence. I knew he was processing what I had said, trying to discern if I had meant it. So few believed in magic any more, even those who otherwise believe in miracles. Before he could respond, I went on.
“I confess to the sin of murder, of ending another’s life when there may yet have been another option.”
The air felt thicker now, tension drawn tight around the both of us.
One more. One more sin and I could rest, knowing that at the very least I had confessed. Forgiveness still felt as unobtainable as ever. Only God had the power to forgive and with all that I’d done… I didn’t deserve it.
Yet, I knew that confessing this sin in particular would do me little good. There were things over which a priest had no say, no power, things that by Church law only the Pope could hope to absolve.
“And last of all, I have broken the seal of confession. I have revealed another’s sins.”
There. It was done.
If anyone else wants to post the same, I'll at least try to follow along. I can't promise much in the way of feedback as my PhD quals are rapidly approaching, but I'll at least read it! Heck, NaNoWriMo itself is probably not the best idea, but whoever let something like that stop them.
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Topic: NaNoWriMo 2012 (Read 17862 times)