Confessions Novels & Stories

I called out, hardly more than a whisper. Adrian turned to me, his eyes locking into mine, full of an immense dark concern. I sucked in a deep breath; they tumbled out from my lips like a confession. "Samuel is culpable of the state my mom is into," my voice trembled with emotion and like a whimper, I confessed. "I said to him, after my research, I found out that he has a hand in it." These words seemed to hang in the air like an accusation, an exposure, as I was waiting for Adrian's board.

All the confessors were killed. The confessors - they were females with special powers of compulsion. They had the ability to turn a man into their slaves and do every single thing they desire. And it'd go on for as long as the confessor was alive. King Caesar was a victim of this. He was a slave to one of the confessors and worshipped her. All he could think of, day and night, was pleasing his mistress. The confessor was not all that nice, as she made him kill his parents.

The mark of my betrayal. Gasps ripple through the air. Gerald’s is the loudest. “I need your confession,” he says, voice steady but trembling with the effort to stay calm. “Now.” And I break. Words spill from me like molten iron, searing everything they touch. I confess. Every lie, every act, every secret. The crowd’s whispers slice like knives, their gasps spreading like wildfire, feeding on my shame. But I keep speaking. I need to. It’s the only way I can beg for judgment; death or forgiveness.

Tonight the church is empty and I’m sitting in his confession booth with my heart in my throat and my underwear already wet. The wood smells like incense and furniture polish, and when he settles on his side of the screen I hear his breathing change because he knows it’s me before I say a word. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” “How long since your last confession?” His voice is tight, careful, the way you handle something that might break if you hold it wrong. I give him the easy sins first because I want him comfortable. Missed mass, took the Lord’s name in vain, never visited my grandmother enough.

The conference room was packed with doctors from every department, each one poised for the case review. I cleared my throat, started up the prepared PowerPoint, and began. "This case is for Jason Hamilton, male, five years old. He was first diagnosed at age three and has been on dialysis for two years now..." As I spoke, murmurs started among the crowd. I turned to the large screen behind me, realizing something was wrong. To my horror, my patient report was swapped out for a presentation called "Confession of an Affair”.

beside me. I found this yesterday when I went out to get something ” she said and showed me front of the book which was written on it ” MAGIC AND POWERS ( how to control them ) “. ” I found something about a confessor inside ” she said and dropped the book on the bed. ” What about confessor ?” I asked. ” Well according to the book, they’re ancient order of women sworn to find the truth no matter how people may try to hide it ” she said. ” Does that mean I’m ancient? ” I asked and she burst into laughter. ” Alaina you’re funny ” she said and laughed again. I sighed and looked away from her. ” Apart from the ancient stuff what other things do confessor’s do, like what’s their ability and what

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.

The prosecutor played portions of the recording again. “You’ve heard Mr. Pembroke’s own words. His confession. His pride in what he did. He didn’t just admit to the crime. He bragged about it. Called it ‘solving a problem.’ Called Arthur Lockwood a ‘liability’ that needed to be ‘eliminated.’” “This isn’t a case of reasonable doubt. This is a case where the defendant recorded his own confession. Where he admitted, in detail, to conspiracy to commit murder. Where he showed no remorse, no regret, no recognition that he’d taken a human life.”

I pushed him away, bile rising in my throat. "You reek of sweat. Go shower." Frank snuggled closer, playing coy. "Work was brutal. Let me hold you for a while." As we tussled, my fingers brushed something crusty on his pants, dried evidence of his betrayal. "Kid spilled oatmeal on me last night," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll change." As he showered, I doubled over, vomiting into the sink, my stomach churning from more than just my condition. I grabbed his phone and opened his chat with Lila.

Shit shit shit! Hell! No freaking way, no no no, just pick your things and get the fuck outta here, Melanie, how can you make this terrible mistake, my cheeks burned with embarrassment, a video of my legs spread apart fucking… sucking… gods on their freaking bar as well!! Jezzz!!!!!! I just want to die right now. I tried to compose myself to text back, “I’m so sorry, Gabriel, hmm I was supposed to send it to Dan, please, I will delete the video and don’t tell Dan I accidentally sent it to you.”