You saw his face through the window of your quaint church, his elbow raised to rest on the wooden panel that supported the glass. Of course, a lot of people these days had as much disrespect for the house you served in as this man did, but something about him in particular caught your eye. His wicked grin shone with something that felt as though it was pulling you towards him, making you question if your true place was really at God’s side. You hesitated a moment, and then another, before ultimately deciding to push through the doors and out of your sanctuary to speak to the strange man. You turned the corner sharp, only to catch him mid-stroke through lighting a match on his leather boot before he brought it to the cigarette hanging from his teeth, and whatever furious resolve you had melted away when your blood froze. Perhaps you had left under the guise of asking politeness of the man, but your eyes followed the movement of his cigarette to his lips and lingered there, before catching his eye with a look that said he knew you’d been staring. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, blowing a ring of sour-smelling smoke your way and spoke in the smoothest voice you’d ever heard,
“Lookin’ for something, Father?”
With a sharp intake of breath and a moment to regain your composure, you steadied yourself to answer with what you hoped sounded like authority, “With the way you approached my church I thought you might be.”
He chuckled, taking a step towards you, “I’m looking for a sinner.” Judging by the revolver on his hip, you guessed he meant one of the outlaws that had been tormenting the town, but judging by the sneer on his voice, you guessed he meant something more carnal.
“We are all sinners,” you smiled, flush creeping into your cheeks, something shaky creeping into your voice, “But I’m afraid if you’re looking for a particular person, all those who have confessed in my House are protected by it.”
“And what of you, Father? Have you confessed?” His words felt dirty in your ears, somehow tainted by something unholy, but with the growing suspicion that God had never been on your side, you welcome his voice.
Something deep in your bones screamed at you that answering truthfully was dangerous, but yet, you found it somehow impossible to lie. “As I am the one they all come to confess to and the only priest around for miles, I’ll admit, I have not. Like I said, we are all sinners.” You tried to force another smile, but his grin exposed yours for its lies.
“Well then, sinner, I’m staying in the inn down the street, if you wish to confess tonight.”
After you bid him on his way and he tips his hat to you, you swallow thickly with indecision, looking behind you at the church where you preached. You would pray for guidance, but something in your soul told you you’d already made up your mind.
