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The Confessor

Updated: 1 day ago

Cover Photo by Ravindra Patoju

On a sunny Sunday afternoon following the morning service, the church hall door creaked as a stranger with a brown shirt and piercings all over his body walked down the aisle towards the confessional.

He travelled to this remote village after his mother gave the address, years after she gave up her revenge. Along his way, he observed the priest reading a book resting on one of the benches.

The priest closed his book observing the visitor and rushed to the other side of the confessional. It was rare that someone would come in the afternoon for such an activity and after a while, both of them occupied their seats, in a hoarse voice, the stranger said, “Father, I have come to confess sins.”

Leaning his ear towards the white curtain that was separating them, the priest mentioned, “Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper child but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.”

With a smile, the stranger whispered, “Prior to the confession, I’m curious to know if killing the man who has destroyed my life would account as a sin?”

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