Our Father

"In the name of your Father and of His Son and of his Spirit. Amen."  Father Jameson heard the voice rasp coldly through the Partition, striking him with a note of contempt.

"I don't believe that is exactly how it goes, my child."

"Heh-heh-heh.  You probably should find a better word than 'child'.  How does it go now?  Oh, right.  Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Heh-heh.  It's been... an eternity since my last confession."

"Why is that my... friend?"

"You probably shouldn't even call me that.  It's just that I've been... so damned busy.  Is this the part where I say what I've done?"

"Usually, yes.  Howe--"

"Then I'll proceed.  My sins are... many.  I seriously doubt I have time to name them all.  There are a few that stand out, however.  I have killed."

"Wha, when?  I mean... is there anything to justify your action?"

"Well, I felt justified, most of the time.  I think I am justified in pursuing my own entertainment."

"No, that is no justification.  You say 'most of the time'.  Exactly how many times have you commited this act?"  Father Jameson's pulse had begun to race.  It was 7:00 pm, meaning that at best there would be one other person there.  However, it was most likely that the chapel was clear of all but him and this... confessor.

"Hahahaha! Who's counting?"

"What other," the priest started before pausing to gulp a breath of air, "sins have you commited?"

"Well, the only other sin that I feel is noteworthy is my being here."

"How is this a sin?"  The father's sweat was pouring across his face, his composure blown even without being visible.  Though his voice shook violently, he still tried to handle this normally.  The answering shrieks of laughter didn't help matters much, though.

"Tell me my penance, Father."  The word was almost spat, rather than spoken.

"I... I honestly can't think of a proper penance.  I.. can't say I ever would expect to hear this kind of confession."  As he said this, the father Jameson began to realize his fear being displaced by anger.  Again, he was answered by a shrieking laugh, this time more violent.

"Oh Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner.  Hahaha!"

"I shall not absolve you!" Even as he said it the laughter continued, intensified.  Father Jameson threw open the screen and turned on the light, seeking to see the face of this heathen who dared mock his god.  Except that there was noone there.  The door to the empty booth was open, the laughter still continuing.  The priest slammed the door open, running out of the confessional to face whoever offered this insult.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hollow be thy name!"

Looking around, Father Jameson saw the large crucifix which adorned the center of the chapel had come disconnected from the wall at the top, leaving it hanging upside down.  Candles were burning nearly to the ceiling, and a single light above the farthest door flickered.  The voice filled the room. 

"Thy kingdom become one with thy will undone. On Earth, leave there no sign of Heaven!"

The priest stopped, taking note of the one flickering light, particularly the way it fluxed in time with this voice.  He waited, collecting his breath and thoughts.  There was one thing he needed to remember.  The voice had stopped, leaving the light only slightly glowing.  With a final sigh, father Jameson started walking again, speaking now with conviction.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.
Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places. Come to the assistance of men whom God has created to His likeness and whom He has redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the devil."

"Aaaahahahaha! Give us this day desire's bread, and forgive us of our trespasses, as we forgive you who trespass against us!" 

The priest readied himself to finish his prayer.  This time as he spoke he had to compete with the laughter.  The lights about him were guiding him, one light in each room showing the intended doorway.  He now passed the sunday school classrooms, nearing glaring floodlights mounted on an "exit" sign.  Outdoors.  Not good.

"Holy Church venerates thee as her guardian and protector; to thee, the Lord has entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into heaven. Pray therefore the God of Peace to crush Satan beneath our feet, that he may no longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us; take hold of the dragon, the old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit ... that he may no longer seduce the nations!"

"And lead us not from evil, but deliver us to fulfill temptation!"

Jameson had once again stopped.  All he could see was a single glowing candle in the middle of the strech of grass between himself and the rectory.  He walked toward it, noticing strange shadows on the ground.  Inch by slow inch, he moved closer still.  The voice was still.  Just feet away, the shadows appeared to be the shape of several bodies.  The priest was taken aback when the candle flared up like those inside the chapel had.  He was more startled when he noted that there were at least twenty figures lying about the candle.  Shock found him as he noticed he recognized every one, the closest in particular.  A young girl laid before him with no eyes and nonexistent lips, reavealing bare teeth.  A single skeletal hand pointed up at him, from a body that been stripped of much skin and all clothing.  From her, the voice that haunted him spoke.

"I am not Satan, you fool!  Maybe if you had prayed against the name Valefar, your pathetic attempt against me would have worked."

The body of the girl Father Jameson had saved from suicide three times fell to the floor.  All around him he saw family, friends, and those he loved staring eyelessly, each revealing sinew in places that should not be exposed in such a grotesque way.  Father Jameson turned away, vomiting.  It almost seemed there was a bloody tint in his bile.  This brought him to note the absence of blood at this scene.  The priest began to walk toward the chapel.  No thoughts in his head.  Just motion.  Untill he was stopped short.  His stomach, which had been made empty, seemed to have become full in an instant.  Weight seemed to bear down on him, slowly.  Breathing became hard, then impossible.  As he collapsed upon himself, Father Jameson saw his vision gloss over with red, most literally.  He could feel the blood pour out of every piece of him.

"Our... Father..." choked the priest, "L... lor... lord in..."

Silence.