The Confession

"Glad you could make it, Father."

"Are you sure you want a priest, Mr. Simon? I see by your file that your a Reformed New Age Sun Worshiper. I can have a cleric of your own religion brought in, if you'd like."

"No, Father, a priest is just fine. I'm exercising my constitutional right to talk to a cleric before I die. My religion allows me to talk to any cleric who is approved of by his or her chosen religion."

"Very well, Mr. Simon, what did you want to talk about?"

"I have a confession to make. I've thought about this a long time, it seems that the only way I can prepare myself for execution and the afterlife is to confess my crime or rather my crimes."

"Crimes?"

"Even though I maintained my innocence during the trial, I'm guilty of murdering that hooker in Fort Worth. The thing is, Father, she ain't the only person I'm guilty of murdering. If I've kept the proper count, I've killed thirty-five people since I turned eighteen. Not all of them were hookers, not all were adults, and not all were women."

"Aren't you fifty-three years old?"

"Yes, Sir! I killed Ms Marple, the hooker, on my birthday. I've murder one person each year on my birthday for the last thirty-five years."

"Wasn't it her birthday as well?"

"Yes, Father, in fact everyone of my victims shared my birthday, which was the only thing we had in common."

"Uh..."

"Father, relax. You don't have to say anything. What I want you to do, after they push the syringe into my arm, is to go to my lawyer's office. He has a sealed envelope which contains the names of my victims and the locations of their bodies. I need someone to make sure their families are informed and the bodies are given a proper burial."

"I'll do as you request, Mr. Simon. However, I don't understand..."

"Why a mass murder would want to give closure to the families of his victims?"

"That's it."

"Well, Father, I'm not your ordinary mass murder. I'm not sure why I started killing people because I know what it feels like never to know if your love one is dead or alive. You see, my little sister, Amy, was kidnapped and murder on her fifth birthday. The cops never found her body until ten years later. My mother died never knowing her only daughter was murdered or where her body was buried. When I die, I'll have to face my mother. She'll lay into me if I don't see that the families of my victims find closure."

Word Count: 439