The Happening
The booth was silent except for Father Raymond’s breath. The hour was late, yet someone had stepped in. He heard the door close and the slow exhale of whoever had entered.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Raymond adjusted his stole.
“Go on, my child. Confession cleanses the soul.”
The voice that came through was low, deliberate, and far too calm.
“I confess… I am going to kill you.”
Raymond froze. He tried to keep his composure.
“That’s not something to joke about.”
The voice ignored him.
“First, I’ll cut your tongue out. I don’t want your God hearing your last words. Then I’ll break your fingers. Each one so you can’t raise a cross to protect yourself.”
Raymond’s heart pounded.
“Who are you? If you need help…”
The confessor continued, tone unshaken.
“After that, I’ll open your stomach right here in this booth. I want you to bleed into the wood. I want your blood to soak the prayers trapped in these walls.”
Raymond’s hand moved for the door. It didn’t budge. The lock held firm.
“I’ll take my time,”
The voice whispered, almost tenderly.
“And when your eyes go glassy, I’ll lean close and remind you, you died listening to me.”
There was a sound. Something metallic sliding across the booth floor, pushed from the other side. A knife. The confessor’s final words seeped through the grille, thick with hunger.
“Now say your last confession, Father. Because after this… I’ll be the one hearing prayers.”
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