The Devil You Know

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

A girl's nasal voice spoke through the small portal in the confession booth. The priest was familiar with the voice because he had heard it moments prior when asked about confession times. He waited for the small voice to continue. When he heard no sound, he gave a slight cough.

“Umm… Bless me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago. My mom asked if I was nice to my sister’s boyfriend today and I said yes but lied. I can’t stand Ryan because he cheated on her at the homecoming dance with Rebecca. I can’t stand her either! I wish God would break them up, so I can have my sister back again. All she does is cry now, and I’m sick and tired of it. I hate him so much!”

“God, the Father of mercies.” Said the Priest. “Through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

It wasn’t that uncommon for the Priest to hear about such trivialities as sibling drama. After all, it was a small town, and everyone knew everybody’s business often before it reached confession. What Charles wasn’t ready for was hearing about his daughter being involved with another young man. He didn’t abuse his authority as a Priest, but he wouldn’t neglect to mete out punishment as he saw fit. It would have to wait, though. The weeks before Easter saw the most confessions during any other time of the year, and this year was special. A new family moved into the parish and brought with him a large donation to the community church. This Easter would be filled with a big celebration and a new member on the board of directors.

After listening to the confession of a whimpering voice declaring her love for Ryan and hatred for Rebecca, he would have one more confession before he closed the confession booth for the day. He didn’t recognize the voice and sat up to listen more intently. It was a gravelly voice and reminded him of his late grandfather who worked in the mines. Being an anonymous confession booth, he wouldn’t directly see who he was speaking to, but he could see a silhouette through the translucent glass.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my last confession. I don’t have much time to live, so I eat, drink, and sleep when it pleases me. But here I am like the dog that returns to its vomit. Like the sow, after washing herself, returns to wallow in the mud.”

“What are your sins, my child?” The priest asked.

“Man.” The man said. “But even still, I know better than to tempt providence. I know the man who donated to this parish. I know how much it cost him, too. But what did it cost you, Priest? How much does it cost to acquire the soul so-called man of God?

The man broke out into a fit of laughter which was soon drowned out by the sound of churchgoers screaming. He could hear them calling for him by name. An anguished sound of an injured man reverberated through the hall. He stood to move, but then the gravelly voice echoed around him. Almost as if he were not speaking from the confession booth, but from far away. His world went devoid of color, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

“Your sins will find you out, Priest.” The voice screamed.

He felt frozen in terror, unable to move his body. A loud crash jarred his sense and he felt hands grabbing all over him, pulling him up and dragging him away. Unable to see, he began flailing away in pure horror and screamed out for someone to save him. He felt hands on his face and turned away, but noticed the warmth it gave. When he opened his eyes he saw the face of his wife Martha staring at him bewildered. Her eyes were wide open.

“M— Martha?” He asked. “Is that you? What happened? I heard people screaming, and I couldn’t move I—”

“Harold,” Martha said calmly. That was you. You were the one screaming, so we came to see what happened and we found you on the floor…”

“That’s impossible I was just…”

“Harold… Did something happen? Did you… See… something?”

He knew what she was implying, but didn’t want to address it. As he got his bearings he noticed everyone in the church hall staring down at him with shock and intrigue in their eyes. He heard whispers among them and felt a shock when he understood what they were saying to each other. A migraine took over control, and he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Someone from the crowd spoke up.

“We need to take him to a hospital! I think he’s had a seizure!”

“Yes, that’s it… I had a seizure and I think I’m having a migraine. Martha, please… get me away from here.”

~~~

Sitting in the hospital bed provided him no comfort. His head ached, and he still didn’t understand quite what happened in the confession booth. Who was that mysterious man who entered the booth? He hadn’t gotten a good look at him but somehow didn’t regret it. His wife and daughter sat by him talking about how beautiful the Easter decorations looked. Likely to distract him, he thought. Yet still, all he could think of were the words of that mysterious man. It was a phrase his grandfather would say when he was Priest of the parish. When asked what the meaning was he would wink and say to a young Harold ‘Better the devil you know.’