Confession before Death, R. K. Mullins [i wanna iguana read aloud .TXT] 📗

The Meeting

 

In the pitch blackness of the night with only the lightning from the storm to illuminate his surroundings, a man drenched from head to foot from the set in storm faces St. Johns of the Devine catholic cathedral. He can make out the high arch housing the front doors from the lightning flashes. The normal grey color of the stone now painted by the rain gives way to a more sinister appearance. The tall wooden carved doors appearing as something evil to him was a welcome invitation to come in.

 

                Typically Father Ryan O’Neal would never open the church doors at such a late hour. Something he could not explain compelled to open one and pear outside. No one had knocked, no sort of sound gave Father Ryan any indication that anyone was waiting just outside the doors. He didn’t understand why he was drawn there and more so why he had to open the wooden door.

 

                Father Ryan stood frozen for a few second by the appearance of this dark statue like figure standing in front of him. Both Father Ryan and the stranger stood there without speaking for what seemed to be hours. Only seconds had passed before the kind elderly priest allowed his mouth to drop open and attempt to form words.

 

                “May I help you my son?” said the priest.

 

                “Yes father you may. I need you to hear my confession” replied the dark figure.

 

                “My son I will have to ask you to come back in the morning once the storm has passed, if you don’t mind.” Father Ryan exclaimed.

 

                “Father tomorrow will be too late. This is a matter of life and death. You must not turn me away, you cannot allow this horrid night to pass without hearing my confession. This just can’t happen. You must, you must hear it.” As he pressed his point.

 

As the two men stood there Father Ryan had this uneasy feeling. A feeling like something terrible all most evil was abound. He couldn’t shake this feeling nor could he shake the overwhelming desire to allow this man to enter the church. The longer they stood there the greater the feeling became, it was nearly uncontrollable.  No matter how the priest tried reasoning it out in his head the feeling would not go away. Something evil nah someone evil was compelling the priest to let this man in.

               

                “Father you must allow me access. You can’t let my confession go unheard this night!” The evil figure stated.

 

                “Okay, okay my son, I will hear your confession.” Replied the priest.

The Father stepped aside to allow the man to enter.

 

                “No Father you must invite me in. I am old school and will not enter without a proper invitation. So Father please invite me in.” The man shouted.

 

Father Ryan looked at the man puzzled and bewildered, not understanding what the man’s meaning was. He thought by stepping aside to allow him in was an invitation.

 

                “My son I am not sure what you mean by this, I had invited you to enter when I stood to the side. But if a verbal invitation is what will make you feel more comfortable then please come in.” he said standing to one side.

 

                The dark evil looking man entered the door glancing upward to the heavy hung crucifix at the far end of the red carpeted walk way. The look in the man’s eyes would make anyone think there was hatred buried deep inside this man’s heart for what he saw. Father Ryan remembered seeing this look once before.

 

                Early on in the priest carrier, he aiding in an exorcism of a young girl when he first encountered that look. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how this young lady could have such hatred for our Lord God. It wasn’t until after the demons were cast out and the young lady reached for the crucifix and held it to her breast he understood. It wasn’t the girl but the evil inside her that hated so deeply.     

               

                Walking this man to the confessional Father Ryan wanted to ask him why he had such devout hatred for God, but held his words hoping the evil within this person would reveal it’s self during the confession.

 

                “This way my son.” Father O’Neal said as he pointed to the confessionals off the right side of the chapel.   

 

                The two men walked the length of the church without saying a word. The hatred in the man’s eyes grew stronger the closer they got to the crucifix. Then without a word the man turned sharply to his right and cut through the pews to the end by the right wall. Father O’Neal kept walking his normal path to the confessionals. The man was waiting there with his back to the crucifix as Father Ryan reached the confessional. The priest pointed to one of the confessional for the man to enter.

 

                The man entered pulling the door closed behind him. Father Ryan opened the door to the center booth between the confessionals where he usually sat and closed the door.

 

                “My son this is quite unorthodox. First by insisting I hear your confession this night, second for the hatred in your eyes. This gives me a very uneasy feeling.” The priest stated.

 

                “Father I am not here for you as it were. I am here for someone else whose life is on the line. This is why it must be tonight for tomorrow he dies.” Replied the man.

 

                “Alright my son please let’s move forward so I can help you” exclaimed the priest.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been a very long time since my last confession.” he started.

See Father this whole thing started two years ago when I was walking down the street minding my own business. I wasn’t looking for trouble but somehow it always seems to find me. I may go years without a victim. I never seem to have to look for one they always present themselves to me without any effort on my part.

 

 

                James Fitzgerald Edwin is his name

 

                “James Fitzgerald Edwin you said.” The priest blurted out.

 

“Yes Father that is his name. Now please don’t interrupt me again.” The man replied.

 

James Fitzgerald Edwin was walking down the street with his head hung low not paying attention to what was going on around him. I saw him for the first on that day. He was bumping into almost every person he passed by never saying a word to them. As he approached me I moved a little to my left to make sure he would bump into me.

 

                Just like I had figured he didn’t even look up when he slammed into me knocking me to the ground. Most people would have stop to ask if I was okay, but not James. He kept walking never offering even an apology. The one thing I can’t stand is rudeness and James was the rudest man I had encounter in many years. He was dressed in a pinstriped business suit with his jacket unbuttoned revealing his lunch stained white shit. From the stains on his shirt anyone could tell he had just finished off a dog from one of the sidewalk vendors.  

 

                I turned and followed Mr. Edwin to the newly built World Trade center building. He entered and went straight the first elevator that was open and pushed the button for the 19th floor. Mr. Edwin was a partner in his law firm and rarely went anywhere for lunch other than his favorite hotdog vendor. There he would always get the same thing every day. A plain hotdog with spicy mustard and mayonnaise.  Anyone that knew James Fitzgerald Edwin knew he was a predictable man. He never strayed too far from his daily routine, his comfort zone. 

               

               Edwin being the creature of habit he could not force himself to change. Hell he hated change more than any person I have ever known. This made him the perfect victim for me. At this time I was not sure just how or what I would do to him, all I knew was I had to make him pay for his rudeness. Rudeness is a weakness, weak people have always been my prey. They are easy to predict, follow set paths and will always be victims.

 

                Each night promptly at 7 P.M. Mr. Edwin would leave his office and walk to the subway. Waiting there for the 8th street train he would read the days new he would get for free at the news stand in his office building. Once on board the train Mr. Edwin would sit in the first seat by the door. He would never look up, never utter a sound. It was as if he was afraid by looking up someone would talk to him. This was something he just could not have. He revealed in his solitude, it seems as if he enjoyed it more than anything.

               

               I followed him as you see, to learn the inner workings of the man, this mouse of a man. He lived in a small one bedroom flat. He had no animals, no roommates, nothing to aid him in the passage of time until a new day began. I decided the best and most efficient way to learn about Mr. Edwin was to rent a across the street from his apartment.

 

There was a for rent sign sitting in the window so I pushed open the door and rang the buzzer. A frail older lady approached and opened the door.

 

“May I help you?” She muttered.  

 

“Yes ma’am, I am here for the apartment you have to rent. I saw the sign in the window. Is it still available?” I replied.

 

“If it wasn’t would I have a sign up? She said as she invited me in.

“I guess not ma’am.” I replied.

 

She showed me to her office the second door on the left, it was a bit small. Just housing one desk and two leather chairs.

 

“I hope you’re not some kind of nut case, fruit cake, pimp, whore, junkie or anything like that. I don’t rent to lowlifes like that.” She exclaimed.

 

“No ma’am. I can assure you I am none of those type of people.” I let know.

 

“My name is Mrs. Winston, I own this building. I actually have three spaces available. One on the bottom floor for $1600 a month, its 900 square foot. One on the second floor for $1850 a month, its 1050 square foot. The third is on the fourth floor for $2250 a month, it’s the largest at 1350 square feet. All are one bedroom one bath. The deposit is equal to the monthly rent. I require the deposit in full to hold it, as well as first and last month’s rent. There’s a onetime application fee of $300 and I charge for the background check and that’s $150. To move in within three days it’s going to cost $5250 once the background and credit check come back. I need to see proof of income for at least three times the monthly rent. Any questions?” as she finished

 

“Yes Mrs. Winston, just one. The space on the fourth floor what side of the building is it on. The front, rear, left or right side? I stated.

 

“It’s on the front of the building. Why? Would you care to see it?” she asked.

“No reason really and yes ma’am I would.” I replied.

 

Mrs. Winston and I walked out of her office down the hallway to the elevator and took it to the fourth floor. The elevator opened facing the hallway wall, we turned right and walked about half way.