A funny word – confess. What am I to confess? I suppose I must have a string of sins behind me, most do, but does that mean I have to confess them?
Thank you, I’d rather not.
Which is why my confession goes unchecked every day. I feel the guilt, mind you, but I just see no reason to confess. Funny reasoning for a priest, but I didn’t always wear the collar. Used to be, I enforced the law. Come to think of it, guess I’m doing the same thing now, just different laws.
With a sigh, I stepped into the confession booth, settling myself down on the hard wood bench. Darn bench. I think they make them uncomfortable on purpose. Makes us priests more inclined to assign the highest number of Hail Mary’s. As for my inclination, I tend to give the least possible. The people on the other side of the screen have sinned and confessed so I figure that is more than enough punishment. Still, I have to assign some or the Bishop would call me in. That is something I don’t want. Hell would be preferable.
Almost without thinking, I run my prayer beads through rough fingers, listening to door on the other side open and somebody step in. Once they have settled, I slid open the screen.
Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession and these are my sins…
My mind wandered away…..
(may come back to this one. Very interested in where it goes, but don’t have time right now:)