[Posted by Ted H]
Oh, hi there. Been a while, eh? Career change and a wealth of other personal events all got in the way after the decent start I had to the year. This will be post #10 of 2021, making it only the 2nd year in the last five that I've managed to hit double digits. And seeing as how most of my updates were from the first few months, it's very disappointing to end the year on such a cold streak. I want to do better in 2022, but that requires more stability on my part. I'll work on it. In the meantime, lemme try to bust out some Blood Friar while trying to return an eye to older projects that kind of fell by the wayside.
NaNoWriMo 2022 was a disaster as usual. Promising start, but my aforementioned lack of stability got int he way of any regular writing time I could carve out.
--------------------------------------------------
[Blood Friar - Confession]
Father Drew glossed through his bible almost in a daze. It was nearing midnight and he was longing for bed, but he remained in his confessional booth awaiting anyone who needed him. It wasn’t common, but some weekends would bring a late-night sinner seeking to ease a burden. Even if one person a month managed to find their way to him to confide in, then he would willingly stand guard through all those otherwise quiet nights.
Tonight, however, was more of a grind for Father Drew. The week had been long and the current night had a certain weight to it that draped over everything. He tried perusing one of his favorite books in the bible, Job, to keep himself entertained. He was considering how to incorporate Job into his next homily when he heard the heavy doors at the front of the church open and shut quickly. He shut his bible and waited. He had heard enough late confessions to identify someone based on how they sounded as they walked through the empty church.
The echo of light taps quickly working their way down an aisle told Father Drew that it was a woman in a hurry. Before long the door on the other side of the privacy barrier open and someone sit down. “Good evening,” Father Drew greeted. The woman said nothing, but her heavy and nervous breathing was apparent. “Take your time,” he comforted. He recalled a time when a young man took over ten minutes to collect himself before being able to confess an otherwise negligible sin.
“Forgive me, father...for I have sinned,” the woman finally began. She sounded rather young, but no child. “It has been...I don’t know, years since my last...I’m sorry...”
“It is fine,” Father Drew stopped her “Do not worry about the length of time. The fact that you’re here now is enough for God.” The woman didn’t respond. Father Drew heard her rummage in her purse. He figured nerves were at play. “What weighs on your soul, my child?” he asked.
A few moments passed. The sounds of rummaging in the purse continued until she must have found what she was looking for, allowing silence to take over. “I was there...” she finally started “At the massacre.”
“The...massacre?” Father Drew asked, not liking what she might be implying.
“St. Mercy,” the woman simply responded.
“Oh, my,” Father Drew breathed. He wasn’t sure if any students from the school remained locally after all these years. “It was a tragedy,” he was able to muster “But despite the horrors of that fateful day, you must not forget that the Lord was with you even then, and understands the pain you and your classmates endured. You are not alone.”
“God wasn’t there that night,” she said bitterly.
“Night?” That didn’t make sense. The shooting happened in the early morning.
“That monster...I see it in my mind even now.”
“Have you sought therapy like other students have?” Father Drew suggested. He felt she needed the support of peers from that day more than guidance from a servant of God.
“There is no therapy for this. I see him in my mind...as I sleep. Always...demanding...”
“What can the Lord do to help ease this burden? How may I assist?” He dealt with survivor's guilt before. Not under the same circumstances as the girl, but he was determined to try whatever it took to help her.
“I need forgiveness...”
“It is not a sin to have happened to survive a shooting, child.” Reassurance. He needed to get through to her that he was the friend she needed.
“No!” she cried out. He was getting worried at how unsteady her voice had become. It was subtle at first, but now she seemed to be on the brink of weeping. He quickly racked his brain for a way to calm her down.
“I need to be forgiven for the life that I am taking.”
“Whose life?”
“Please, I’m so sorry. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Be strong!” Father Drew urged. He quickly wondered if any of the nuns were about in the convent. Perhaps one of them were close enough to yell for. Something about the woman’s voice screamed finality about what she was suggesting.
“It’s all I see and all I hear,” the woman said between soft sobs “I’m so sorry.”
“Just-” Father Drew attempted to plead.
“It wants blood,” she spoke with frightening clarity.
“What?”
“Blood,” she said again. “Blood,” a final time, deeper and muffled. She had placed something into her mouth that was obstructing clarity. Father Drew had pushed aside the privacy barrier just in time to see the woman pull the trigger of a gun in her mouth and spray the remnants of the back of her head all over the wall behind her.
