Confessions A Novel Novels & Stories

"It's also a sin to let sin win." Then she left. I stared at the closed door. For several minutes, I couldn't move. Don't let sin win. Maybe she had no idea how deeply those words would cut. I reached for my phone. There was one thing I could still control. My story. I opened the writing application. My book was still there. Capitulate Into Sinful Desires. I scrolled through the chapters. The story I had written secretly. The story everyone believed was fiction. But they didn't know. Every forbidden glance. Every kiss. Every mistake. Every secret. I had hidden pieces of myself inside those pages. I had been confessing without realizing that I was confessing.

I knew that in front of them, any denial would be useless. I closed my eyes briefly, suppressing the surge of emotions and forcing myself to stay calm. “The flowers and the gifts were placed in the living room by your assistant. They haven’t been moved. “Didn’t you install surveillance cameras all over the living room because you were worried about me going into early labor or having an accident? If I did it, you can just check the footage.” The moment I said that, Jane’s face turned pale. “Astrid. Only the three of us touched those flowers! If it wasn’t you, are you saying it was me? Fine. Since you insist you’re innocent, let’s check the footage!”

It had been over an hour now since the interrogation began and despite all her claim of innocence, she stood no chance against the police and what they believed. “What evidence do you speak of? I have told you countless times already that I did not kill him and the only thing I did was reach for his wallet because I needed to identify the victim.” She insisted but it was clear that he did not believe her. “Fine.” He said, pulling back the chair to sit on it. “Let's begin like this.” He continued, knotting his fingers together and placing them on the table as he leaned toward her. “Do you admit that you know the victim?” He asked.

A cloth, a reel of condoms, and a card dropped on the desk. I hooked my finger under my nose. Odessa stepped back. I grabbed a pen and lifted what seemed to be an underwear in the air. The soiled boxers swung on the pen. “What in the world!” Odessa examined the garment. “Is that semen?” For fuck sake! I groaned and dropped the pen and boxers in the nearby bin. Odessa snatched up the package, reading. “There is no returning address.” I turned my head to read the card. No handwriting. Some fucker thought it was funny to piece cut out letters from magazines on a white card. ‘A gift to my precious omega’. Wow! What was this world coming to?

"Son! You are a victim, not a sinner!" "Still, I killed someone. And I can't get over it, yet" "What?!" "Is it that bad?" "God have mercy! Yes! It is huge!" "He was a bad man" "Is he the one who did it?" "Did what?" "The unfortunate dead" "Rape me? No, but he is one of them. I had to kill him so I could run away." The priest took a deep breath. He came across so many crazy confessions. However, this one deserves the trophy for the most disturbing confession ever!

I whispered to him, though my insides trembled with dread. Then I lifted my head. “I want to confess.” A wave of shocked murmurs filled the hall. Faces turned to each other. Hands covered mouths. Some nodded, like they had expected as much. Others frowned, confused. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. “I want to confess,” I repeated, forcing the words out, “to… to everything that has happened.” My throat felt tight. My tongue felt heavy. Nolan folded his arms, feeling satisfied. I looked at the crowd again—faces I had grown up with. Wolves who once bowed to me, respected me, smiled at me. Now they looked at me like I was something rotten.

There are confessions that arrive like storms loud, sudden, rearranging everything in their path. And then there are the quiet ones. The ones delivered in six words to a stranger's phone at seven in the morning. Those are the confessions that take the longest to stop shaking from. Not because they are louder. Because they are more precise. Z. Cole, notes written in a parked car with the engine off She read the six words eleven times.

Sometimes I would grind against my pillow, imagining his touch, imagining riding him, moaning his name, taking him deep inside me as I shivered and came. I knew it was wrong, horrible even, considering he was a priest, someone the town respected. But I couldn’t stop myself. Today, I had decided to come clean, to confess my sins to him, certain that as a priest, he would forgive me. Forgive me for my lewd thoughts, my sinful actions, and guide me back to the right path. So when the silence in the confessional booth stretched long enough, I parted my lips, my voice soft and nervous, and tried to spill everything.

Hi guys, my name is Chime Chinonso and I’m from Enugu, Nigeria. May I know your name and where you are from Confessions Of An Exorcist is one of my best stories and you are going to enjoy it. If you haven’t seen my other work “SHADOW” please do. It is worth the read. I’m gonna blow your mind. This work is completely an imaginative one. Any character in resemblance to actual person- living or deceased is a coincidence. Every character in this book is a product of the author’s imagination.

Seeing the woman you've been dreaming of was being tortured by other people is so freaking painful. After I found out that Dylan isn't treating her right, I tried to steal her, but the fact that I was the one who caused her brother's accident scared me. I turned into a coward again. I let her suffer. I watched her cry, but I couldn't take it anymore, so I made my feelings clear to her. "Are you sure about your plans, Jacob? They're married. It won't be easy to take Samantha away." I nodded at Theo, determined to do what I wanted. I should've told her about my feelings a long time ago. This confession has been long overdue, so I gathered all my strength and swallowed my fear. I confessed to h