“Father!!! Forgive me… for i-i have sinned!!!”
I staggered to the church. The Bell had clanged at it’s usual time. 6am. The first mass was about to begin . Cloaked in a black hood, I followed the small group of people , men, children, women and the elderlies as they filed into the church. Most of the women where drapped in thick shawls over their shoulders and head, the little children and men in thick overalls and a few covered their faces and as such, no one saw it amiss for me ..cloaked in the way I did.
I sat down silently , head bent and knee touching the thick wood as we knelt for prayers, my rosary in my hands as I counted and mumbled the names of the saints and Mary mother for guidance. While the incense of burning candles danced around the pulpit and the priests and their memes fed each one the holy grail.. I waited my turn. Touching my fingers to my forehead, making the sign of the cross and blowing a kiss to the fingertips as soon as I opened my mouth to drink of the cup of wine likened to the blood of Christ and the bread liken to his body.. I repeated my prayers, signed again and returned to my spot on my knees untill the mass ended. I waited my turn
The room was near empty..and as the last person stepped down, passing me, curious as a feather she stared into my face, a smile breaking in her face as she said…”father will see you now”.
She was old and frail, tiny for her age. I wondered what she went to confess. I wondered what an old woman could do…who she would harm..such a gentle soul. But I don’t smile back..No. And as soon as the smile came, it disappeared..too quickly. ..and then she does a sign of the cross and she quickly leaves the church.
I wondered if it was meant for her…or for me.
But there was no need. I was a lost soul. But only father can help me. So I stepped in..Closing the small door. I sat on the stool, counted my rosary and said a prayer. I heard him cough..and I heard his voice..
“My child, speak and be free. The Lord hears, he heals and and he answers.”
I nod, affirming even if I know he can’t see my face or my expression..
“Father, forgive me. For I have sinned”.
With a tone he must have used for years before and years to come…
“Speak child…confess your sins so that you would be free..”
“Father,..let me tell you a story..For that therein is my confession.”
“Go on child. ”
I nod again..
“Father, a woman, barren for 8 years. Abused. Beaten. Left for dead without a home. An outcast and without a name. Toiled the earth, fed from hand to mouth. And suffered the ill treatment of her husband.. till the end. Till he closed his eyes.
That same woman, banished from her home. Termed a witch. A curse. Found a life , a home. In the outskirts of what she holds dear. Barely alife. Barely living. Untill one day, a miracle worked in. And after 10 years of living in isolation plus 8 years of being without a fruit from her previous life. After a year of being with her miracle. She bore a child. An angel. A girl fair in all her ways. Beautiful. Her father’s pride. Her mother’s joy.”
“My child, what is your confession”? He asked through the enclosed door. His voice impatient.
I ignore and continue ..
“One day. 13 years later. While she, the broken woman left for a brief run to the market to make soup. Her miracle , out for the daily means. Child, fair and beautiful, alone. The wolf came, in sheep’s clothing..and tore her apart. Limb by limb. Till all that was left was a broken fair child. In the pool of her own blood. Dead. Gone. Alife but without life. And because she couldn’t speak… the wolf wasn’t named. For the wolf had no face. ”
“My child, that’s a sad story. But what is your confession.??”
“One day…a year later, while she, the broken woman, and her miracle..who blamed the woman for causing their fair child to be broken and deprived of life due to negligence and their fair broken angel went to the market, Fair angel began to shake and convulse for someone had touched her. She never let’s anyone touch her. Not since that day. Not even her father, Miracle. For he too had begun to hate her. Hate her mother and looked for a reason to live them both to their misery. The cross was too much for him to carry. But fair angel was shivering angel and tears gushing out of her eyes, and when she lifted her finger…angel and pointed. Her heart caught in her chest. Her eyes and heart read what her mouth couldn’t speak. For where she pointed…she believed…a mother’s believe…that it…was the wolf in sheep’s clothing who had rammed through her daughter damaging her till she bleed. Cuting out her tongue and paralysing her. There it stood… while they gathere about it..reverencing it. ”
“My child… do you have a confession? Others await counselling. .. speak so the good lord would wash away your sins”
“Father. ….riddle me this. What should the mother do having found the vulture who ate the daughter bits by bits. Should she forgive him or send him to his hell? ”
“My child. Vengence is for the Lord’s. Forgive and pray for his soul. ”
“But father,what if she had killed it , a million times over and over again. When she gathered her in her arms and washed her in tears. When her miracle finally left them without a goodbye. When she laid awake plotting and when she came home and found fair angel, dead with a slit wrist. Bled. Gone. Finally..mercy. And she, the mother. More broken than before. Do you still think she should forgive father. ..for her sin was forgiving while her angel lived in pain. Her sin was forgiving when her miracle looked unpon them with disgust. That was her sin. .For waiting for justice. For God to revenge .. ”
“But my child. This is just a story. You have no confession. Let the good lord be with you child. ..” I heard him made to leave..
“No father.. I do have a confession.. but for a sin I am yet to commit.”
“Why do you say that child…?”
“Father,..the vulture is a man. A man held in high esteem. A man cloaked in the guise of sanctuary. A man whose aim is to bring the sheeps to salvation.His love for the people is immense.. but his love for little girls was more intense…
Father…pray tell, how can that man be forgiven.??”
“What…what do you mean child” his voice broke
“Father… can that man be forgiven?
“Who are you?
I smelt fear..uncertainty.
“I am a person without no name. No identity. No family. No reason to live and no reason to be alife. I am that woman ,broken,bruised and barren. Untill miracle. Untill fair angel..untill the vulture untill all is gone. And I realise that forgiveness is weakness and I have no reason to live. What do I do to the vulture father??..
I heard him try the handle. I smile. He doesn’t know it’s stuck. There was a reason I wanted to be his last confessor..
“My child…listen. God heals. He listens. He forgives…. for we too should forgive. ..Forgive my child. ….
There was a reason I wore a cloak. The small gallon of gasoline danced between my legs. I uncork it…and let it flow . I flicked the lighter.
“Father….what should I do to the vulture who isn’t a man who defiled my daughter and ruined my life a second time and sent my angel back to heaven..?”
I heard him struggle with the door. I heard him scream and call for help. No one will come. For we were alone. I made sure. There was a reason I waited my turn.
“My child….please please ……Forgive me. It was the devil. Please…Forgive him. Forgive me…Vengence is off the lord” he cried on his knees…
“Wrong answer father. Hell is empty, all the demons are here…but we would make our own hell. Come…let’s pray, because it would get really hot soon.”…
I let the lighter drop.i felt the hot flames and heard him scream. I smiled and looked at him. I wanted him to see my face…The last face he saw before I sent him to hell.
There was a reason I waited my turn. I wanted to see his end …and then I go to my rest.
Xoxo#Sweetness 💋 #Allthingsfinery
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