My Last Reconciliation

The day I discovered that Christianity was not my path to take in life.

 

            I am sitting at my desk at school, glancing at the clock over the classroom door every chance I get. I know it's coming; the moment when Mr. Gaston will come into the class and say that word I fear... confession.

            I look back at Ms. G. and she smiles at me. I think she knows I'm not happy. I'm often told that I'm too vocal about every opinion I have.

            I'm about to look back at the clock but instead I see Mr. Gaston standing in the doorway. I want to groan but I know Ms. G. will give me a detention if I do that.

            He says that horrible word and soon I am sitting in the school foyer, staring at the fake stained glass windows of the chapel that I helped paint last year.

            I grumble and cross my arms; stupid confession. What was the point? It’s just an old geyser trying to act like he knows everything. I'm thirteen years old! He doesn't have the right to act better than me!

            My name is called and I think I'm making a face, because Ms. G. frowns at me and just points to the door.

            I walk in and sit down to face an old man with a permanent scowl. He looks like nothing except his own spite for children like me is keeping him alive. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I can't remember when I had my last confession." I tell him. I want to yawn, but decide against it.

            He says something but I'm not really paying too much attention. He mentions something about baptism and I blurt it out before I can stop myself. "I don't believe in baptism."

            For a moment, I'm afraid I gave him a stroke, but the scowl on his face just deepens. He speaks like he's trying to resist the urge to spit on me. I'm told that I'm 'a sinner, a bad Catholic and that God was going to condemn me to hell'. Then he tells me to leave.

            I walk out of the chapel and I'm crying. Madame walks over and hugs me. "Ashleigh, what happened?" I tell her what Mr. Spiteful told me. She looks angry and I think I'm going to get a detention for making a priest angry, until she speaks again. "He shouldn't have told you that."

            "Is it true?" I ask her.

            "Of course not!" she replies right away. "Go sit down for a few minutes." I do as she asks. I see Madame and Ms. G. talking in low voices and shaking their heads.

            I decide that I will never again call myself a Christian.

 

Author's Note

I'd like to stress that in no way do I hold any ill-will towards Christians. I attended a Catholic high school and nearly all of my friends are Christians. I wrote this piece about a time in my life when I had a very shattered faith and a rather serious attitude problem. If there is something offensive to you in this piece, please remember that those were my thoughts at that time in my life; they are not my thoughts now.

Since that bleak time in my life, I've found solace and comfort in the Wiccan path, but I do not resent Christianity or Christians at all.

Reviews

[Brendan Kerestes]

Really good, and you ended it just right! I suggest you send it in to a magazine or an anthology-publishing company..................