Priest Novels & Stories

The aging priest stands under the arch looking over the gathering crowd. He’s wearing the traditional robes: a black smock embroidered with golden concentric circles around a howling wolf. Around his neck, he wears a white stole with the phases of the moon depicted on it in dark blue. Being a priest is somewhat of a pointless job in werewolf society – we rarely pray and we almost never visit the temple, but every priest I’ve ever met has a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of werewolf history, rituals, and laws.

the man asked a fascinating question. "If you have no intention of me, why are you here in my room at this time?" Migi continued to investigate. The man bowed for a moment. "Like I said before, I'm here to watch over you." "Who are you really?" "You don't have to know who I am, it's okay, maybe you know my name. I'm Sebastian." Migi was silent for a moment as she just looked seriously at the man who introduced himself as Sebastian. "How can I trust you?" "Because I know who you are and I know something about the murder case in your area."

". Gill looked up from his steaming bowl of soup and said, " I'm a Priest of the Sofux order." " What does a priest do?" Aelfric had never met a priest before. He had heard of Priestesses of Mar, who would help crop yields, fill dried wells, and keep cattle healthy. Never had he heard of Sofux Priests.

David responds as he continues. "I'm no longer a priest, but rather a Brother Deaconate, assisting the priest in his activities such as office work and ministerial activities to the people," David explains. "That means you're secure and safe from temptation," Daniele added. "Ah, are you getting suspicious about my fidelity to you, honey?" Daniele jokes in response to David's call. Before they enter the crown, she hugs him.

His ability to say all this with a straight face while flashing his teeth was to be considered an art, he should have ventured into acting while abroad, he was really good. “Guards, call the priest in!” He commanded, his loudness further heightening my nerves. Everyone watched the door in alert while I kept my eyes on my mother and frowned as she tore her gaze, her face morphing into a frown. I followed her movement in time to catch the heavy footsteps of the guards as the escorted a priest, and I understood my mother’s reaction. This was no ordinary priest, he was the oldest reverend in our islan

He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Oh, Donncha, this is no time for your jokes," Roisin said with a giggle to lighten the mood. Hector tightened his grip on Skye's hand and whispered. "Don't pay attention," he told her, and Skye nodded. Finally, Hector addressed the priest, "You may begin." The priest lifted his hands and blessed the gathering. He was of average height and had lost his youthful appearance a long time ago. His hair was wavy and longer than what was typical for Highlanders.

Beneath my breath, I mutter, "Don't be a hypocrite." We both face the priest. Frankly, he doesn't look like a priest. His hair is long and graying, and he has a goatee. There are dark bags under his eyes and his voice is a croak, like he's been smoking his whole life. I have a bad feeling about this.

The priest arrived in front of the prince and bent down with his breath, his hands resting on his knees, his face red, and his blue robe touching the ground. He may or may not have run ten meters, Athelstan thought, waiting for the man to catch his breath. It took some time before the priest could form a sentence of accomplished meaning without risking fainting for too much effort. Athelstan was patiently waiting for some bored snort to escape from time to time. "I don’t have time for the prayers, priest," Athelstan said, crossing his arms to the chest.

“Are you Lucas Cain? I’m Terry Groban. I’m the Rector of Saint Gabriel’s, the church that manages this facility. I’m sorry I didn’t make it in to see you while you were in the hospital. Welcome home.” “I’m not Catholic.” Lucas wasn’t quite sure why he said that. And the priest seemed just as confused. “I’m not Catholic either, Lucas. This is an Anglican facility.” “Oh.” He probably should have known that. “Well, I’m not Anglican either. I mean, there’s no reason you should have come to see me in the hospital. That’s all I meant.” “Ah. I see.” The priest stepped back from the doorway. “Well, come on in. You look like you might wa

A driver in a grey suit steps out, rounds the hood, and opens the rear passenger door. The cheerful noise reaches a crescendo—then cuts off abruptly, leaving behind complete, breathless silence. A tall, broad-shouldered Black priest steps onto the gravel, holding a thick leather Bible and an exorcist's crucifix. His gaze moves over the crowd, then settles on the church doors. He studies them a moment too long. Then his eyes return to us. He’s striking. Piercing, narrow eyes sweep over the crowd as if they can read every sin carved into our bones. His short, wavy hair is styled like the rappers whose music we secretly pass around at school.