Priest Author Novels & Stories

"And apparently, he's kidnapping priests now." Sofia froze mid-flip, giving me a sharp look. "What?" I sighed. "Long story," I breathed. She narrowed her eyes. "Does this priest go by the name Father Elijah?" I blinked, unsure. "I haven't exactly heard the details." "It has to be him. He's causing some kind of uprising against top mafia dons. He says he wants to exorcise their souls and chase out the devil." My eyes went wide. "W-what do you mean? How long has this been going on for?" I asked her.

” I lectured. ”Noted.” she said then pouts. I was about to talk when the waitress came back with our orders and without wasting any second, we started to eat and some talks. I was enjoying the food and our talk when I hear a voice. ‘Priestess...’ I automatically looked around to find any suspicious person but nothing. Not until my eyes went to a figure of a man wearing a black coat that seems like it was from a magazine that feautures the Victorian style of clothing, his hat that covers half of his face only showing the tip of his nose and his lips. But what caught me off-guard is his creepy smile that sent shivers to my whole body. Then he said the word... ’Priestess’

She rolls her eyes, letting me see the inside of her black sockets. “No, but it is true that you are not the most patient person. Imagine this, he is celibate, has been for the longest time, and then comes you, who doesn’t know the meaning of being celibate. He definitely wants you, but all he has known for the last few years is celibacy, he is unsure how to navigate these waters, does not want to betray his faith too, because what is a priest without his faith?” I blink with renewed understanding, “I was going too fast.” I whisper.

<|control12|>The Confessional Flames I never thought my priesthood would lead me here, tangled in a web of forbidden desires that burned hotter than any hellfire sermon I’d ever preached. My name is Father Elias, and at 28, I was the epitome of devotion—or so the parish believed. Tall, with a lean build from years of seminary discipline, my green eyes and short dark hair made me look approachable, trustworthy. But beneath the cassock, doubts and urges simmered, especially since Luca and Marco entered my life.

That's also the reason Camden never improves. "And I hope we see each other again next Sunday!" I blinked several times when the priest bid his goodbye to us. Well, if I'm not mistaken, his name is Joseph Walter. From what I've heard from the rumors, he was a priest from another chapel before he assigned here; I remembered hearing that he used to take advantage of nuns. But seriously, I hope that's not true or I'm going to puke on his face right now. I lost count of the time. My father forbade me to open my phone because I kept looking at it the whole time.

Almost hypnotised by the sight of it, a blur of black smeared the edge of my vision, and I glanced across the road to see a priest crossing in front of a gelato parlour, a tan leather satchel clutched under his arm, his heavy, dark robes swishing behind him as he walked. I gasped and pushed myself instinctively closer to Ethan, who squeezed my hand in return, barely even giving the priest a second look. 'Not all priests are agents of the Council,' he said, as we continued to walk, and I glanced furtively back over my shoulder. 'Most of them genuinely believe that what they have dedicated their lives to, is the truth. They know no better.'

the priest said, “Do you know anyone that can help us In our research,?“Henry said, “Are you a researcher,” the priest asked. “Not really, but I have Interest In studying supernatural creatures and magical powers,” Henry explained, “I will direct you to someone else, he might be of help,” the priest explained,

"What can I do for you?" "Reverend, I'm going to be direct to you. We need your help for a bible passage. Our CI left this clue before he was killed by an unidentified hitman," Detective Javier explained before showing the letter to the priest. "We think that message was connected to how the hitman would kill our witness. The CI was Catholic so we figured he knew the Bible well," he continued. The Reverend looked for his bible on the shelf. When he got it, he opened it and searched for the passage.

They crumble to the ground with the doors still wide open, waiting for them to escape. One by one, I silence them. All, except the priest. The priest crawls backward, bible clutched to his chest like it can save him. “Please,” he whispers. “You’ll make it worse. I’m a vessel of—” I cut his throat mid-sentence. His holy words bleed out with his blood, soaking the bible he’d used to judge me. The pages turn red. Scriptures drowned in sin. I tower over him, watching the light fade from his eyes.

More help with youth groups, more confessions, more everything the parish had been praying for. But all I felt was a cold knot in my stomach. No more midnight sacristy. No more locked doors. No more of his fingers inside me while I read repentance prayers and fell apart. The book would probably stay closed forever now. Still, curiosity twisted through the disappointment. Father Andrew. What did he look like? Was he older? Strict? Kind? Part of me—the part that was still sore and satisfied from last night—wondered if he’d be anywhere near as dangerous as Father Chris.