2015-12-22
The man strode through the cobblestone street, pushing past all the other citizens who were trying to complete their day’s menial chores. The old and ancient church suddenly rose before him, it’s contrast to the stormy sky made it feel less inviting. The rust and the dampness leaking down the grey bricks made it seem like it was crying. His heart twisted as he mounted the staircase and threw open the large wooden door. The pews on either side of him were empty, but some still occupied this building and he would not leave without speaking to him. He strode down the aisle toward the large monument erected at the end and skimmed it with his eyes, up and down. Hatred filled his veins, but also a traitorous feeling of hope. For so long, he had felt abandoned and misled. Too long. He noticed the white robes as they swayed against the ground. “Oh, my child.” The old priest said, nearing him. “I have come to confess.” The man said, his voice deep and certain. The priest looked at him, silently appraising him and nodded, gesturing to the booth off on the side. The man strode past the small preacher and pulled back the curtain, lowering himself onto the wooden seat within the booth, closing it behind him, the priest followed not soon after. “Forgive me, Father for I have sinned.” The man took a deep breath. “Actually, I would like to begin my confession with a story in relation to my own.” The priest on the other side sat silently, listening. “There was once a boy, an orphan, and he lived on the streets. He was humiliated every day. He begged for money but was kicked and beaten like nothing more than garbage. Cold, alone and frightened, the boy had always prayed, hoping against hope that there was something or someone out there who would listen to him. Someone who would protect him.” The man took a steadying breath, shaking his head as a series of emotion filled him, bubbling just underneath his skin. These emotions he had been running from for years had finally caught up and were nipping at his heels. Tearing him apart. “No one ever came. No one ever held him while he cried or wished to play with him. He witnessed all the other kids and their friends laugh and play games, but he could only watch. One day, the boy decided that if anyone was listening they would have heard his pain. They would have done something. This boy grew up into a man. And that is where his story and mine merge.” “This child,” The priest said. “This is you?” “No.” The man said, his fists clenched tightly. “This boy is dead. A man replaced him. A man who grew up knowing that hope is useless. This man sits on the other side of you today to ask for forgiveness.” There was a momentary pause between them both, not knowing what to say to the other. “What are you asking to be forgiven for, my child?” “I am asking to be forgiven for what I must do.” The priest sighed. “The future is delicate. If you follow the right path, there will be nothing to be forgiven for.” “I know I will need it, Father. I come here to ask, a child to a father, forgive me for what I’m about to do.” “And what must you do?” The man silently pulled out his metal sword and stabbed it through the wooden booth, harshly, feeling the pressure on the other end. The sounds of the priests chokes and gasps echoed through the empty church and rang in the man’s ears. “I must start a revolution.”
