Tales Of His Obsession
The first grey light of dawn began to seep through the eastern window, illuminating the wreckage around them: the fallen sacred vessels, the crumpled linen, their naked, splayed bodies on the holy table.
He looked at the crucifix lying on the floor, then at the woman sleeping in his arms on the altar. In that moment, he knew with cold, absolute certainty that he was damned. There was no forgiveness, no redemption, for what they had done. He had traded eternity for this, for the feel of her skin, for the taste of her sin, for the title of “Daddy” whispered in the house of God.
And as the sun rose, casting long, accusing shadows across the sanctuary, he found he did not care. Let the flames co
Bab Populer