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Confession of a Sinner

There’s a man, dressed in black, walking, on the gloomy streets of Chicago. This man has sinned, just like any other man, yet he dwells inside this grand church, towering above him like a castle of the dark ages, in a way it is. His sin is a crime, a crime that would end his livelihood, a crime that is horrendous and despicable, one that would get him executed if anyone knew his dreadful act, but he doesn’t care. To him his deed was just an urge, a petite harmless act, and life goes on all the same, yet he sits inside the confession room ready for a confession.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” His voice is deep and hoarse a bit from years of smoking.

“And what is your sin my child,” says the Priest, he said it so many times his questions sounds more of a bored statement.

“I killed man today.”

“Oh,” The Priest smiles, for he has heard far greater sins than this. “And why did you do it?”

“Well you see father, I haven’t killed him yet, but before this week is over you’ll see him, dead on the front page,”

“And why do you wish to kill him, do you know this man?”

“Hardly, I just met him today.”

“Yet you wish kill him?”

“I don’t wish, someone else wishes, but men like him can’t stand the blood.” The confessor lights a cigarette. “So he paid me to do it.”

““And why does he want this man dead?”

“Someone killed my employer’s son.”

“I see, an eye for an eye, but that was the way of the old testament, now we must learned to forgive and show mercy, that is the way of the new.”

“That animal doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.”

“What mercy?”
“Yeah,”
“And how would you know, I thought you just met the man today.”

“I did,”

“And yet you judge him as some savage animal.”

“Listen Padre, I’ve been in contract killing a long time,”

“You’ve killed more men?”

“Yeah, about 18 other hits,”

“Then why does this one bother you.”

“It doesn’t”

“You mean you don’t seek forgiveness?” he says.

“Hell no,”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because that man, this geezer, is you,” the killer’s fist burst through the thin wood between them like a bullet. The fist grabbed the Priest by the neck. He pulled the Priest to his face and then threw him out the door. Wood flew out like bats from a cave, a cave disturbed by a predator. The killer walked out, calm and tranquil; smoke flared from his nostrils. He pulled out a .45 snub-nose revolver and placed the front barrel near The Priest’s head. The Priest’s eyes widen in dread, he tried to scream but nothing came out, the only sound he heard was the hammer of the gun going down.

“Please don’t kill me,” he says, clutching his bible as if it was Kevlar. “I’m a man of God!”

“Yeah right, since when do killers of children go to heaven.”

“I did no such thing,”

“Liar, you killed my employer’s child with your own two hands.”

“I said I did no such thing!” The killer smacked him with his gun.

“Don’t give me that s***! I got evidence to prove it!”

“Prove it? Hahaha!” He laughs like a demonic clown, walking out of the gates of hell, “let’s say I did kill him, say you have evidence that proves it, say you’ll kill me if I don’t confess, doesn’t matter. If you had any real evidence then I would be up in a cell right now, but no, I’m here, listening to the false accusations of an incompetent contract killer.” The contract killer pulled out a small bloody cross, attached to some string. The cross lay in his palm like an insect.

“I have your necklace, the same you used to kill Billy, still has your finger prints on it; now you can deny the facts all you want Padre, I know you did it.”

“Then kill me,” the contract killer smacked him with his gun; blood spewed from his mouth, a tooth fell to the concrete floor. “Kill me!” he smacked him again, this time breaking the priest’s nose. “I said…AHH!” he screamed in agony as the contract killer broke his rib. “You’re pathetic, you know that, you wanna’ kill me, you wanna’ shoot me, you wanna’ slice my throat out like I did to little Billy, but you can’t,”
“Shut up!” he smashed the Priest’s head into the concrete.
“HA Ha ha, it doesn’t matter how many other lives you ended before me, we’ll still be in the same position, all because your code, your damn moral code won’t let you pull the god damn trigger on man of god.”

“You don’t think I can do it.” He snapped another rib of the Priest. The Priest screams in agony, but he still smiles, blood and all. “You think I won’t hurt you!” he says, smashing the Priest’s left hand as the other still clutches that bible. The bones snap and break like the hard body of an insect. The demonic Priest screams in laughter, blood dripping from his smile, the hitman smacks him in the face, breaking his cheek bone, he smacks him again, breaking the other cheek, but that Priest still laughs. “You have no Idea what I could do!”

“Then do it!”

“I will, but first you have to tell me something,”

“And what’s that?”

“The only real reason you’re not behind bars is because this beauty right here went missing,” he says, holding the cross necklace over the Priest’s head.

“I guess I have my own guardian angel. HAHAha!” another tooth fell out of his mouth.

“You could say that, but I want his name, the name of that little b****** who hid this evidence away for you.”

“You do huh, well I’ll tell ya’, Senator Michael Murphy,”

“Why would he help you?”

“In the end does it matter? I’m a psychotic man of the cloth who loves breaking the fifth commandment and he’s a respected senator who frequently goes to my church, he even asked me to be at his wedding. Now if everyone knew of my little tendencies what would happen to our poor Senator?”

“You mean he covered it all up just to avoid bad publicity?”

“And they say I’m crazy, now you got what you want, so are you gonna’ do it or not?”

“I wish I didn’t have to, men like you deserve to die in the chair, have your brain fry as the electricity goes to your head. It’s a lot more painful than this, but it’ll have to do.”

BAM! The bullet flew out of the .45 like a hawk, entering the old Priest’s cranium as if it was butter. Blood burst out of his skull, his eyes slowly roll back, his body begins to stiffen, his jaw falls down; blood flows out like a stream, he tries to smile and whispers. “May God forgive you.”

“Amen,” the killer responded. He lays the necklace on the Priest’s chest then he closes the Priest’s eyelids. He gets up, feeling no regret other than ending a life in God’s domain, and lights another cigarette and walks towards the door. There’s a man who have sinned, one that would get him executed if anyone knew…and someone does know; his name is Ace Falcone.



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