Confessions Anonymous Novels & Stories

"I'm David a Deacon from St. Paul's Parish. Father Frank has been waiting for you." ****** Why does this always end up in me meeting Reverend Fathers? I want me some nuns! Anyways let's round this up. That's it on today's Confessions Of An Exorcist. See you next time. Don't get possessed. Or I might have to do nasty things to you. Author's Note: can run forever."

I didn't know which to be more frightened about, him, saying something serious and laughing or when he was saying it sternly. I sat still on the bed and asked him, “Who is your client?” He stood up and walked to the end of the room, then rested his back on the wall. “We do not give out information about our clients, it's not possible. So prepare yourself ahead for tonight. It's a simple process. All you need to do is confess what you're asked to confess, you'd be beaten, and then we will record your confession after that. Don't worry it's an easy process, once you're tired. You won't have any strength left to not repeat what you're asked.” I was sure he was a psychopath at that point.

Have I been lied to all my life? Just as the meeting was drawing to a close, Samantha, my dear friend, and confidant, who had been with me through thick and thin, cleared her throat. All eyes turned to her, and a hush fell over the room. "I have something to confess," Samantha began, her voice steady but filled with regret. "I am a member of the Secret Society." Gasps of surprise and disbelief swept through the room. I turned to Samantha, my heart heavy with shock and confusion.

Fail. Across the house, in his office, Dante is losing a different kind of battle. Luca is halfway through a report on perimeter patrols when Vittorio bursts in without knocking, face white, phone in hand. “We have a problem,” he says. Dante doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t roll his eyes. Just says, “Define ‘problem.’” “A track just went up,” Vittorio says. “Anonymous account. No credits. But it’s already being passed around as a ‘mystery confession’ from—” He looks at the phone like it might bite him. “—from her.”

He noticed cars parked too long outside. Unfamiliar numbers calling and hanging up. A shadow in the lobby mirror that didn’t belong to anyone he recognized. He began encrypting every message, every file but part of him knew it was already too late. MediaNova had reach. Influence. Money. They could erase people as easily as they erased truth. Still… he couldn’t let Liam and Amara be buried under lies. He opened his laptop, began drafting a story: “The Confession They Never Heard: How Two Lives Were Rewritten for Profit.”

We sent twenty-three. Anonymous accounts created through encrypted services, messages sent to major television networks, national newspapers, crime bloggers with massive followings. Even two independent podcasters known for exposing corruption. “If something happens to us,” Asher said quietly as he scheduled the final batch, “the rest goes public automatically.” Talia looked at him sharply. “Nothing’s going to happen.” He didn’t respond, but he pressed confirm. And just like that, it was out. We watched our screens intently, admiring the work of our hands and making sure we hadn't sent it to the wrong people.

"Mom, Clara sold our company secrets and still dares to join the contest." She pulled out a magazine, pointing to the rival's early spring collection. The designs were identical to mine. Ruth, who valued the company above everything else, panicked upon seeing this.

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.

I sent the embezzlement confession at 11:32 AM, routing it through the encryption tunnel and three anonymized servers until it landed in Lydia Harmon's personal email with the subject line: Potential witness misconduct—Vance board meeting. The body of the message was sparse—just Chloe's signed confession, the bank records, and a note that said "The board deserves to know who it's trusting." If Lydia Harmon was half the investigator her reputation claimed, she'd have the documents verified within twenty-four hours. That gave her a full day before the meeting. Plenty of time.

Gabriel looked away. A long silence followed. Finally... He whispered, "I was afraid." Samuel frowned. "Afraid of what?" Gabriel laughed bitterly. "That if I ever gave up control..." "...the world would become as cruel as the one I grew up in." The Auditor nodded slowly. "There it is." Damian looked at him. "What?" "The first honest thing Gabriel has said in thirty years." The Vault glowed softly. "Confession accepted." Gabriel looked surprised. "You keep records of confessions?"