The Confession

Karl’s hands felt cold and clammy against his face, as he wiped the rolling beads of sweat from his temples. He shut his eyes, tucked his lips, and inhaled as deeply as his lungs allowed – so deep it hurt his chest and made him cough twice.  He opened his eyes – bright and fierce as blue sapphire – cleared his throat and, in one impulsive drift, took a step inside.

He sat stiff and inert – his body weighed down by disarrayed thoughts, incomprehensible feelings of torturous desire – while his heart fluttered wildly, like a caged butterfly’s filament wings. He attempted to release the words, but his mouth felt dry, so he gulped bitter spit and tried again. In his forty devout years, he had never struggled to serve as much as he struggled today. Not even his social anxiety or acute shyness had impeded him from clamoring the hymns of the lord Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. But today something had gone awry; his convictions had gone astray, and he felt defeated, ashamed, and smoldered before the eyes of his father. 

He was suddenly nauseated and faint by the cubicle’s musty odor. Shame’s sour and acidic aroma emanated from the booth’s four corners, clouding his senses. The intolerable secrets of every filthy sinner remained alive, had never been buried; their souls had never been absolved, and now they lingered and suffocated him, pressing against his long torso like a horde of wild harlots.

Karl’s nervous stupor made him sweat profusely like a swine before slaughter; his unyielding body now jerked uncontrollably. “Damnation of the evilest kind has befallen upon my soul. I shall boil in repentance for the rest of eternity,” he thought, agonized in sin. He had come with the singlehanded mission of parting the waters and freeing himself from the shackles of faith, but now his remorse was such, that he could not lift his head, and his long beard rested upon his knees soaking his mortified tears. 

All the while, his thoughts pierced him like blades, and although his body seethed in penitence, he could not stop his demons from conquering the mind. His blood ached as much as his genitals did; he was consumed with lust, with wrath, with gluttonous carnal cravings. “Oh, help me, my lord. I am devoid of true virtue. I ache with the longing of touching his flesh, the flesh of the noble servant awaiting my regrets.”

                     … “Shall we start,” asked the priest. Karl smiled and his sapphire eyes shone their fiercest blue.  “Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It’s been seven days since my last confession…”