Novel & Cerita Confession

“It’s been… it’s been one week since my last confession.” “What do you wish to confess?” His voice was calm. I squeezed my hands together. “I… I’ve been struggling with thoughts.” “What kind of thoughts?” Heat crawled up my neck. “Bad ones.” “Be specific.” His voice sharpened. “What thoughts?” I swallowed hard. “I… touched myself.” The words felt filthy out loud. Silence. I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me. Then— “And what did you think of when you did it?” My entire body went stiff. My heart slammed. “F-Father—”

Cried. He fell to the floor more than once, groaning with a pain that had no name a spiritual labor. Every memory of compromise, fear, failure surfaced like smoke drawn from a deep chamber. He began to confess them aloud. Not just sins. But weights. “I confess every time I ran from my voice. I confess the bitterness I swallowed in silence. I confess my father’s absence and the shame I buried. I confess the moments I believed I was too broken to carry purpose.” Tears fell freely.

Maybe for once I could be honest and say that my marriage was not getting better; it was falling further and further into misery. “I told mine that it was over,” Russell said. “Let me just say, it was fucking liberating. Saying the words was like loosening a damn vise from my chest.” I wasn’t sure what it was about the anonymity of conversing with a stranger, but for the next hour or so, both Russell Collins and I took full advantage. We said things that cleansed and relieved. I wasn’t a fucking priest, but maybe, just maybe, I was able to help him, because I knew that come tomorrow, his time for absolution would be over.

he asked eagerly. “Wouldn’t hurt, you know, for emergencies” I teased. We went to the pharmacy to get some supplies for the week, while I browsed the shampoo and body wash aisle, Remi had wandered off to the condoms. He returned crimson faced and empty handed. “Uhm, Harper…” he began uncomfortably, “there’s like fifty different kinds of condoms. Does it matter which one?” he asked. “No, but do you want me to go with you?” I asked.

Kahit pa parang weird, hindi niya mapigilang sumang-ayon sa lalaki kaya hindi na siya nakaimik pa. Tinapik ni Lucas ang balikat niya. "The 'con' from 'con man' means confidence. Sa trabahong 'to, iyon ang puhunan natin. Fake it 'til you make it, ika nga. Lying is the name of the game, and confidence is power." Napangisi si Christelle sa paalala ng lalaki. "Naiintindihan ko. It really makes sense right now..."

"Go in search of the confessor. I want her found by all means. "No matter what, make sure she doesn't die. I want her alive". He paused and took in a deep breath. "I have so many plans in store for her". Silence. "Yes, My King" the guards bowed and left. * * Her name is Isabelle. And the story of how she became the last confessor.... The confessors were females with special powers of compulsion. They compare someone by forcing them to look into their eyes, then the power takes over. The person becomes their slaves for as long as they live and do every single thing they say. The only way to break the spell was if the confessor dies.

That thin man could squirm his way out of any situation and knew the few charges on his record were merely a fraction of his actual deeds. “He won’t speak.” Terra declared firmly, sounding more convinced that she felt. “I don’t know, what if he does? Then we’re both done. I can’t go to jail, I haven’t even graduated!” Carmichael yelled on the phone, sounding hysterical. Terra could practically see him pacing at the other end of the line. Terra knew he would. Their relationship could be described with many words, but loyal was not one of them. If the right deal came along, he would spill everything in a heartbeat. Then where did that leave Noah? No, she couldn’t let her father hurt Noah.

“Tia, my dear child, listen to me. God loves you more than you can ever imagine. Even in your weakest moments. Masturbation is indeed a sin of the flesh, yes, but it is not an unforgivable sin. Many good people struggle with these urges, especially in times of loneliness. You are not alone, and you are certainly not condemned. You are only human. The Lord forgives those who repent with a sincere heart, and your sorrow is very clear to me.” His kind words should have brought some relief, but instead, the ache between my legs had returned stronger than ever. It was worse now, fueled by the intimate act of confessing my deepest shame to him. My cheeks burned with fresh humiliation and unwanted

Or I hoped he didn’t. I stepped into the confessional a bit wary, not knowing what to expect. Once I sat down and situated myself I started, “Forgive me father for I have sinned. It’s been two days since my last confession.” “What are your sins,” came Father Michaels’ deep baritone voice from the other side of the booth. “I indulged in pleasures of the flesh with a man who has taken a vow of chastity,” I said carefully. The truth was I did feel horribly guilty about it. Catholic guilt, it’s a conundrum.

“Of myself.” The truth leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “I believed that I had mastered my desires,” I continued, my voice trembling now. “I believed prayer and silence were enough. But last…” I stopped myself. ‘What are you doing?’ one mental voice asked. One that sounded like the evil one. “Will you tell him what happened last night too?” The other gentle voice came. This one the Lord's. “If you withhold information during confession, how will you be saved my child?”