Forgive Me Father

Father Vinci has a confessional that ends up being more than he expected.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” a little girl’s voice rang from the other side. “It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

Father Vinci heard the confessional door open and shut; he sighed an old man’s sigh. Today was a terrible day to be honest. It was the day when most people decided that they were going to tell confessions, so he had heard lots of stories. Sixteen affairs had come through the other side, and there had been only twenty people. He knew this was going to be a long day, but only the Lord knew exactly how long.

Father Vinci felt a burden lift from his shoulders. Children were always great to listen to. They did bad things, but nothing terrible. He often heard, “Forgive me Father, I’ve insulted my mother,” “Forgive me Father, I’ve hit my sibling,” or “Forgive me Father, I haven’t been praying that often.” So it did his heart good to hear the voice of an innocent child.

“Speak now, child, tell me your sins.”

The little girl’s voice went very quiet, “I’ve done a very bad thing, Father. I shouldn’t tell you, but I know I must.”

Silently the father chuckled. This was of course what little children thought. They were bad and the worst people in the world. Bless the young ones.

He was about to tell her that she had nothing to worry about, when she started to sob. “I killed a man, Father.”

The father was caught off guard with this statement. He lost his breath and felt sweat father on his brow. This can’t be? Obviously the child is delusional and doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Again he went to comfort her, but she cut him off. “I watched him die, his body giving in to my will. I just told his body to let him die, and it did.”

“Now, now, child,” the Father said, attempting to comfort her, “I’m sure this is all one big misunderstanding.”

The sounds from the other side of the confessional were intangible, but it sounded as if the girl was chanting. The Father then heard banging and thrashing; it sounded as if someone were throwing the girl around.

“Please!” the girl shrieked, as if she were being tortured, “HELP ME!”

Then a scream filled the air.

The Father had been biting his lip, and when the scream happened, he bit down too hard and broke the skin. A single drop of blood landed on ground next to his feet. The screaming immediately stopped. The Father would have expected the end of the screaming to be a positive effect, but it happened to be the opposite.

The father was taken back. What was he supposed to do?

A chilled voice answered his statement, “I’m sorry for the incident, Father, I guarantee that you won’t hear that from me ever again.”

The room seemed to be frozen in morbid ice. The chilling tone in the girl’s voice was so calculated, so precise, so utterly evil. The Father crossed himself, waiting for the child’s response. He had heard a voice like that once, and only once, and it happened to be at an exorcism.

Almost as if she were reading his mind, she decided to talk again, “I feel terrible, and a boy told me he’d give me ten dollars if I’d scare you. I apologize Father, if I did.”

To anyone else, the apology would have been taken for what it was, but he knew better. There was only melancholy in the voice of this young one, no sorrow had ever or would ever be there.

“You won’t tell anyone,” she asked, attempting to convey eagerness in her voice, though she failed. “Will you?”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Father Vinci looked around in this mahogany wooded confessional. His life was devoted here, and yet this little girl was trying to scare him. Why? He was a man of God, this was his battlefield. He would stop her.

Then a peel of childish laughter filled the air. It carried an ominous tone, and it immobilized the air. A chill went down his spine. The air was turning cold, as darkness from every corner of the room seemed to seep toward him.

“Father, isn‘t it said that thinking of sinning is just as bad as sinning itself?”

A cold sweat broke across Father Vinci. She couldn’t know what he was thinking, it wasn’t possible. He needed to say something; he needed to tell her that she was wrong, that he wasn’t anything like that. The pit of his stomach turned, as if he were looking at a dead body.

“Well, just the same, you won’t tell anyone. I know.”

Laughter filled the air again, leaving the Father clutching his chest, attempting to slow his rapid heart beats.

She left the confessional letting her little heels click behind her. The Father should have said something or even been worried, but he was too busy for that. His heart was moving at an immeasurable speed. His thoughts were too scattered to call for help. He needed to do one thing first. He dove out of the confessional and caught a glimpse of the back of the girl.

He didn’t see anything except two black eyes. The eyes seemed to be suspended there, though nothing held them up. There was no white in those eyes; there was no iris, just blackness.

The coldness enveloped Father Vinci, as his heart pounded against his chest, threatening to burst. Blood rushed from his brain, as all he could see was blood. A scream, that no one but he could hear, filled the church. Then all was silent

The medical examiner, in the end, couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation. As far as he could tell, the man was perfectly healthy, except for being dead. The stress of the day weighed heavily upon his shoulders and the prospect of an evening at home loomed in his mind. After all, he had to tell his young daughter that she had given her last confession to poor Father Vinci.

 

Reviews

[Raef C. Boylan]

The last paragraph is an excellent addition - nice work. You leave the reader thinking about how that kid is still out there, and wondering if the mother will live for much longer.
I bet she'll never ground her daughter.
There's still quite a few grammar mistakes; is this the story that was for a class assignment?

To be honest, the brevity of the old version was part of what made it good; there was a formula and you followed it through...so i did like the original.
Some of this one is much better, and some of it - again - probably needs a bit of refining. That's the hazard of adding more into your work during an edit - the extras will need editing too at some point. Ah well - 'tis a writer's life and all that.

Let me know if no one gives you grammar help over the next couple of days, and i'll do it.

"The Father would have expected the screaming to be a positive affect, it happened to be the opposite." - i didn't understand the intention of this sentence. Is it meant to say:
"The Father would have expected the [end of the] screaming to be a positive affect, it happened to be the opposite."? If so, i'd advise a re-write, e.g:

"The Father would have expected her silence to have a positive effect; instead, it did the opposite."
Something a bit like that.

affect - this doesn't affect me// he affected a foreign accent//
Whether the results do anything.

effect - the effect was obvious// his accent had no effect on us//
Like a symptom. The results of something are the Effects.

Sorry, my grammar explanation above is a bit crap.
A dictionary will probably be more helpful in highlighting the difference.

Good story.

[rachel D]

i never read this before all the editing but what you have here definitely is interesting and quite creepy. it's a twisted little piece but i think it's a good one.

[Chelsea Elizabeth]

Interesting twist at the end, but...I don't know, I liked the suddenness of the first ending...this version seems almost too much...the first one kept me reading, kept me interested, but this one dipped too far into explaining things...

Also, toward the end you wrote "eloped"...I think you meant "enveloped".

[Nicole (Carpe Diem)]

i like the revised version ... nicely done B

[Brette Medb]

I REALLY liked this...it was creepy and it made you think for a moment and delve into the matter behind the story... It was well written and entertaining... I wonder if the little girl will appear elsewhere?
Great write!


B.

[Dezaraye]

Whoa there! How scary. Nice, I could feel the panic of the father, your descriptions are wonderful. Just watch the verb tenses when you write. This is a well done piece.

[Bob Carney, "Soon ..]

I like it much better. It seems more complete and chilling which wasn't as consistent in the first draft. I'll leave some notes.

[dead]

Good story with a n interesting depth to it of unforeseen horrors, has a certain veil of ambiguity to it aswell which I like. The possibility of evil lurking everywhere! I especially like the weakness of the priest, an idea that I explored aswell in my Kane story. Religion is usually pointless when being faced with evil, there is this older vampire movie called Frightnight (something I could never watch again, but I was young back then and that was good as things got then) where the hunter tries to ward off a vampire with the cross but he fails because he has no belief that the cross will hold the vampire back. In general I think religion and such is so caught in dogma that it no longer holds any power because there is no real faith, because to believe does not mean to have faith, faith is always transcendental absurdity, whereas belief often is a weakness, a submitting to a false sense of certainty.
The ending is a little over the top though which I think does not entirely fits in with the rest, I would make his death more quiet, so it felt as if his heart exploded and as he is down upon the cold floor of the church there is a stream of blood coming from his nose, makes it a bit more mysterious, unless of course you prefer an ending that hits you more in a macabre and gory fashion (if you ever want to see a movie with an ending that hits you like a truck: "Dead Or Alive" by Takashi Miike). Also, as Helen mentions use the priest rather than the Father. For the rest, nice psychology, I imagine the girl has a shrill kind of voice, that even in her normal voice there is something kind of spellbound.

[Helen Woodward]

Do I really have to do this again??? OK...There aren't enough commas on the planet for you Brentley, there's none left for me! (overkill)
From the top....
It was the busiest day for confessions...
But she cut him off???? Ouch!...But she interrupted...
Landed on the floor (ground/outside...floor/inside)
The screaming to have a positive affect...
Frozen...not froze...
Taken apology...not taking...
There was a sinister edge in the voice...
She asked with an attempt at eagerness, but failed...
His heart was pumping faster and faster...
Instead of "The Father" try..."The Priest"...
He rushed out of the confessional...not 'dove'...
The coldness enveloped...
Blood rushed from his brain (where was it going?) All he could see was blood...use one or the other phrase, not both...I would choose the latter...
Note;
The coroner found an aneurism AND a heart attack? His heart exploded, I wouldn't think there would be much left of him would there?
I would go with...The Medical Examiner (Coroner) could find no explanation for the priest's death...etc.
It's a terrific story with a great end! You go you good thing xx