Priest Novels & Stories

“Have you opened the sacred book and read through what was written? May God forgive you Aiden!” Caitlin tried to read through what was on their mind to know what they were talking about but she could only access the mind of one while the other seems to be blocking her entrance. She turned around to see two men, one who looked a bit old and the other was still young, maybe a few years older than her in the human age. Without anyone telling her, she knows they are priests. From their outfit and from what she has heard about people like them. They are the ones who collects the sins of the people and bring them to repentance by a form of divine spirit and delivera

Her heart did some somersaults and with each breath, the knots in her stomach got tighter. Once the priest was done with his piece, they faced each other to do the vows and she came face to face with Dominic. There was a sight you didn't get to see every day. He looked just as she remembered him. Tall and slim, not to mention handsome. With a square jaw. The same eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past five years. The only thing that had changed was how he styled his hair. Now it was all black curls neatly combed back above his head.

"I have employed a new priest. His name is Father Abraham and he will say Mass for us tomorrow. He is a Benedictine." I walked forward, noticing the priest in his cheap wool cowl for the first time. "Father," I said. "My child," said Father Abraham. He pulled back the hood from his monk's cowl and took my hand. I felt a shock that drove the color from my face. I wanted to pull my hand away, but I didn't. I looked into the priest's dark eyes and I knew him.

“Are you still pretending?” “I'm not pretending, Ezreal. I am a priest,” I whispered, though the words felt thin, unconvincing. He laughed softly. “A priest who moans when I touch him. A priest who begged with his body at night, even as his lips prayed for deliverance.” He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Do you think God didn’t notice?” Heat crawled up my neck. I forced my gaze to the crucifix above, clinging to it like a drowning man. “You will not shake me. I was deceived. I didn't want it.”

"Ok, so like, everyone's mad here," Saint scoffed behind, resting his elbow on Tino's shoulder. "The level of craziness only differs." Tino shook him off with a serious stare. "Are you liking even this?" He pointed. "Dawg, this is a friggin Church, and that is a Priest! That other guy is a Church Brother judging by what he's wearing, but they're playing with guns like it's chess?" Saint gave him a bored look. "Damn, grow up, man. I told you what he is, so why act like a empty-head when you already know?"

"Then I won't have to feel so guilty about feeling so good because I'll be working hard." "Why would you feel guilty about feeling good?" Krista asked, stunned at hearing him say such a thing. "My father was a Lutheran pastor," Zach replied. "A priest!" Krista asked, her eyes wide. "You were raised by a priest?" "A pastor, a Lutheran pastor," Zach replied. "In both its Catholic and Pagan senses, a priest is a person serving as the interface between God and humans, because you can't do it directly. A Lutheran pastor is ordained to be a living example of Christ, but they are not the go-between like

"An assistant?" "No, Oscar, absolutely not." "Oh, come on, just let me explain—" "I don't need an assistant," I said, swinging my legs down off the couch so I could properly address him. "I'm a priest in a parish, not a CEO or something extraordinary. The cathedral has more litanies, the maintenance, the upkeep, staff and volunteers than it knows what to do with.” "You could have someone to help you with all that," Oscar said, edging forward until he was perched on his knees in front of me. "Think about it! Someone to organize your schedule, clean your kitchen—"

What I got was Father Elijah stepping up to the pulpit, and every thought of my ex evaporating from my brain like it never existed. He's young for a priest — early thirties, maybe thirty-two. Dark hair that's a little too long for the clergy, pushed back from a face that belongs in a romance movie, not behind an altar. Sharp jaw, full mouth, grey-green eyes that make your panties soak when they stare at you. His hands grip the pulpit when he preaches — strong hands, veined forearms disappearing into rolled-up sleeves — and his voice is this low, warm gravel that vibrates and settles somewhere in my lower stomach.

After that, Charlie stared at the man with a frown and asked curiously, "Who are you, old man? Why do you speak for him?" "I'm a priest!" The man cleared his throat to pluck up his courage and announced, "I am a servant of God. I speak for justice." "I'm sorry." Charlie sneered, "I'm an atheist and do not believe in God." The priest coughed nervously, "O-Okay, but you can't disrespect God." "Hold on a second." Charlie chuckled. "I didn't disrespect God. I disrespected His servant, that's all." He walked over to the priest, looked him straight in the eye, and asked, "Tell me, when did you get in he

Moving his right hand in his hair, on his neck, he steals glances toward her mother to saw her smiling mildly at him. Knowing what she was thinking, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw their family priest entering in the hall and everyone stood up in respect. Draped in a single piece of two-metre saffron cotton clothe, his face was shining with the glow and his frontal was marked with vermilion in a horizontal line. "He must be around ninety, isn't it?" whispering to Saaransh, Shana wondered. "I wonder" with his eyes fixed on the priest sitting on the wooden bench in the middle of the room, Saaransh tried to guess his exact a