Confession

Cool air collided with summer heat as the Cathedral doors opened. The clanging and buzzing of construction dulled as the doors reunited. The clash of hot and cold danced on the parishioner’s neck through the vestibule, down the nave, and towards the confessional.

"Bless me, Father, for I will sin." The warm voice poured out slowly, like smooth, dark honey.

“Tell me, child, what sin will you commit?” The priest’s gravelly tenor held intrigue.

“I… will break a promise.”

“What promise?”

“I gained the trust of others. They confided in me horrible things that happened to them, made me promise not to tell anyone, and not to do anything. But I cannot keep that promise.” The voice maintained its warmth.

“Sometimes, promises must be broken and trust must be betrayed for the greater good.” The priest said reassuringly.

“Have you betrayed trust, Father?”

“I… have acted in God’s name.”

The buzzing sound became more noticeable.

“Was it in God’s name that you betrayed 267 children over 40 years?"

“What did you—”

“Was it in God’s name that you silenced their families?”

“Yes, I have silenced hundreds of families. And I can silence you.” The priest said smoothly.

“No, you can’t. You won’t silence anyone ever again.” The voice responded.

The buzzing grew louder.

“How dare you! The confessional is sacred!” Spit flew from the priest’s mouth.

“You’re right, Father. The confessional is sacred. But that’s not where we are.”

The buzzing became deafeningly loud. The stained mahogany of the confessional box began to distort and shake before fading. The walls, candles, alter, and everything in the Cathedral vanished as a thousand drones appeared, revealing an empty white warehouse with two chairs. The drones departed. The buzzing was replaced by the sound of heels clacking as the parishioner walked away.