Forgive me Father

Character Gauntlet – Prompt Three: What are your character’s religious/spiritual affiliations?

Questions to Consider:

1.          Is your character a spiritual individual? No?
2.          What events have caused these affiliations or lack thereof?
3.          Do their beliefs affect their behavior towards those of differing/apposing beliefs? (i.e. are they accepting of other beliefs, or no?)

Word count: 739

Caroline brushed brittle skeletons of dead leaves off the bench before she sat down.  Without looking across the street, that would come later, she ran her fingers along the ridges of her olive green leather bound journal.  The pattern of twining leaves and lilies pressed deep into the leather was worn and familiar, a momentary comfort to ease her troubled thoughts. 

She didn’t permit her fingers to linger.  Instead she unwound the slim leather strap, admiring how the sunlight glinted off the lily pendent the strap had been wrapped around as she opened the journal.  Sadness formed a heavy lump in her chest as Caroline began flipping through the pages of neat handwriting.  The date of the first entry was the day after Megan had been found.  That was when Caroline bought the journal, needing to vent her pain somewhere.  And that was where the first plans for murder had been born. 

Many of the pages had been filled in the five years between.  Each neatly written line a silent confession.  Finally she reached a clear page and began writing. 

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

Every entry began with these words.  They were a comfort, like the pressed leather of the book.  Even though she could no longer go to her Priest to unburden her sins, at least she was still able to keep a log of her transgressions. 

Yesterday, in Westwood Park I killed a man.  He was young, early twenties perhaps, a bird watcher I think.  He had green eyes, and was a head taller than me, though his build was quite lean.  His hair was a deep red and he had a beautiful smile.  His kiss had been sweet, like the first spring daisy.  Forgive me Father today I will confess.. 

The words were written with care, and she built a picture in her mind of the life she’d ended as she tried to document everything she could recall of him.  It was a painful task, like clawing at a wound that hasn’t even stopped bleeding yet.  But she had to do it, to try and repent for her sins against God.  Every murder was documented, put down in ink the day after the crime so that she would never forget a single one.  Each held a place in her prayers. 

Closing the book, she redid the bindings and finally lifted her eyes to the building across the street.  It was a hansom structure, sand colored brick made up its front and the door was a strong imposing arch.  Each window was lined with lighter stone, and an American flag waved jauntily in the noon wind.  The Third Police Precinct. 

After every murder, Caroline ended up here, writing her confessions and praying for the strength to stand up, walk across the street, and turn herself in.  Father O’Bannon’s voice, old but still strong whispered though her mind.  After the first murder, he had taken her confession and upon seeing how sorrowful and repentant she was he’d absolved her of her sin and asked her to offer twenty rosaries in penitence to God for her transgression. 

She had done so with a glad heart, certain that her soul would be washed clean of the darkness that she’d opened the way for.  But it wasn’t, and Caroline had sinned again.  Her second confession resulted in an additional penitence, if she wished to be absolved of her sins against God, Caroline would have to publicly confess her crime and accept the punishment of man. 

Caroline wanted to, she had every intention of doing as her Father asked, but when she got to the police department her nerve had broken.  How could she turn herself in?  If she did that, she’d go to prison, her life would be over.  She would probably end up getting killed.  Caroline knew she wasn’t strong enough to live life behind bars, and so she turned away and didn’t return to Church. 

Standing up, Caroline tucked the small book into her purse and waited for the light to turn red.  When it did she crossed the street with her head held high, eyes locked on that smooth arch way, the gate to redemption.  Just as she reached it, her steps faltered, and again she turned away.  Walking past, her head dipped in quiet, heartbroken prayer as she made her way home.  There were still fifteen rosaries to be offered for her latest transgression.