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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1100254-Confessions-to-a-priest
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1100254
watch out who you confess to.
The man was standing in the middle of the big oval door, under the letters that read Second Baptist Church. He stood there admiring the sacred temple, the rows of wooden benches stacked one in front of another not two feet apart, forming two rows, one on the left and the other one on the right parted by a narrow isle covered in a red carpet. He stared at Jesus on the crucifix that hanged in the middle of the stone wall at the other end from where he was standing, hanging there, observing the temple as well as his pupils that came here to praise him and listen to the word of God.

Today was a clouded rainy Monday morning and there was not a single soul that had come to speak to God. The man stepped inside the temple, his black long raincoat was dripping water into the gray stones that held him on his feet, but the water he dripped was not a holy one. He took of his black round hat, styled to the 1930’s gangster movies. He walked towards the crucifix while his black leather shoes created and echo of evil in the middle of the holy air. He got on his knees.

“ God, I know that what I’m about to do is not right, help me reconcile with this in some way.” He spoke solemnly.

He suddenly heard steps behind him coming toward him, still kneeling down with his back to the intruder he grabbed his handgun from his shoulder holster in one quick move with the right arm. It was a custom made Beretta, it was all silver covered except for the grip which he had made the manufacturer install black leather stripes, very thin themselves as thin was the space they were a part from each other, this way his grip was much solid. A real silver Beretta, one of a kind made for one of a kind man. He took the safety off, and held the handgun with his right hand pressed under his raincoat ,to the left part of his body, he turned his head around expecting to pull the trigger and end up with a hole through his raincoat and a dead man in the middle of the church.

“ Good morning son.” The priest said with a worm smile.

The man slowly turned back around and put back his silver Beretta into its holster. He stood up, looked at the priest, looked back at his golden Rolex watch that laid on his wrist, and said, “ father I have a confession to make, do you have the time?”.

The priest nodded and made a gesture with his hand for the man to follow him to the opposite end of the church, to the left of the big oval door that was the entry into the sacred palace. The priest entered the wooden box, six feet in height by four feet in width, parted by a dark glass that created only a sillohoute of the man on the opposite side. The man in the black raincoat thought how modern churches had become since he last had been in one, he never remembered any glass as a partition in the confessionary. Suddenly a small round hole in the middle of the glass was popped open. The man in the raincoat shrugged it off, still thinking how in the world did they make these type of confessionary, high-tech must be.

“ Tell me son, how can I help you.” The priest spoke in a soothing voice.

“ Father, I’m about to sin, and sin in a big fucking way.” The man spoke in his raspy voice.

“ Please son, don’t blaspheme in the house of God.”

“ Sorry, am I going to hell then?”

“ What is the sin son?”

“ I’m going to have to violate one of the ten commandments, and probably the worst of all ten.”

“ I see, son, a lot of people violate the ten commandments on a daily basis, you won’t go to hell for it, but you have to strive to live by the word of God, he is merciful, he’ll forgive you. But the question is will you forgive yourself?”

The man stood in silence for a while, he finally said “ Yeah, the guy is a mean motherfucker who deserves what is coming to him.”

“ The language son, please watch your language.”

“Sorry again father.”

“ Son, I need you to tell me what is it you are a bout to do, so I can speak with God, so we both can speak to him, and ask him for forgiveness.”

The man thought whether to tell the old gray haired priest his sin, lately he’d been thinking about changing his life style, and this was probably the first step towards it. He wanted for this to be his last sin, and then he would retire. He had been coming to church for the past month, a routine he hoped to keep with in the future in another part of the world. He had been in business for over twenty years, he had made a good living with it, he had enough money saved to go to the Bahamas and open a good Italian restaurant there, he knew a lot about restaurants. His father owned one and since little he had been a kin observer of the inner workings of a restaurant, until he got involved in a world of darkness, a world of shadows, he lived most of his life in the shadows, and know he wanted to change that. What a better place than sunny Bahamas to come out into the light and go to a legit business. Plus an Italian restaurant in that place of the world would be something people were not use to and would be eager to try.

“ Father, in exactly twenty minutes a man will enter through your front door He’s is not a life of a saint, quite the opposite, he too has violated every single one of the ten commandments. He’s trash for society, and as trash he must be dispose off.”

“ Son, are you talking about murder?”

“ You can call it whatever you want.”

“ Son, put your hands through the opening and grab mine so we can pray together.”

The man did as he was told, he suddenly felt a metal object quickly placed on his right hand, and as the object was enveloping his left one he pulled it away back into his side of the glass, grabbed his silver Beretta and pulled the trigger four times, in separate two quick round burst with a pause of a second in between them. The sound of gunshots echoed throughout the church, the glass was cracked, but not broken. The man suddenly slumped forward, he touched his stomach and felt a warm wet sensation enveloping his left hand. The door to the confessionary suddenly flew open and two SWAT members from the FBI charged him and through him to the floor where they finished cuffing his left hand.

The priest stepped out of his part of the confessionary and took of his wig, his gray hair was know black and the man on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back suddenly recognized the face.

“ John Lucianno, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder on Gerard Genovese and attempt to commit murder on a law enforcement personnel, that is me by the way.”

“ Fuck you Jimmy, I’ll have your family killed by tomorrow morning.” John said as he cuffed blood into the stone floor.

Both men looked at each other, both dark eyes clashed against one another, filling themselves with evil and hatred for each other.

“ No John, you’ll be dead tomorrow and my family on vacation.”

He raised his pistol and shot John Lucianno two time on the head, the other FBI agents surrounding them sighed in relieve. John ‘The Pistol’ Lucianno was gone forever. He had over twenty deaths of FBI agents on his back, finally they had gotten even with him. They had been watching him for the past month and knew that he liked to go confess himself, they knew he was trying to redeem himself in some way, but in the FBI’s eyes there was no redeeming for John ‘the pistol’Lucianno, he had done too much evil. He’s destiny was death. At first the FBI team was going to arrest him, and let the system put him to death, if they were able to cuff his hands at the exact moment inside the confessionary, but once Lucianno pulled the trigger in attempt to kill another of FBI agent, their hatred rose to the point of no return and finally they disposed of him, Americas most wanted hit man.
© Copyright 2006 dismas cavalry (cavalry at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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