Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2020 14:35:39 GMT -5
Snow falls outside an aging St-Something Cathedral.
Middle of nowhere would be a charitable description of the location.
Right on cue, two scummy Mobster types sit in a snow covered sedan out front.
Their eyes scan the premises before shoving down another bratwurst.
Hands are heard flipping pages as if inside a hall or building, out of the weather's reach.
The point of view transitions across a busy residential street, wide landscape to steady zoom, elevating to a window.
In a large chair reading Gospel is a Priest, wearing full traditional Catholic collared garb.
His eyes unmistakably glowing from glasses, complimented even more by a cartoonish black scene overlay.
Just then, a knock at the door of the Church study, then an invitation to enter,
"Padre, we have one more."
Laying on the table directly in front of him, a Bible, opened to Deuteronomy 32:35;
"Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip;
for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly."
He rises from the chair, grabbing his rosary on the way out.
The shot stays in the room, trickling over an ottoman,
finding what is sticking out of a bedroom doorway,
in the form of pale hairy,
bloody bare feet.
нυмв☨e
ʀǟɖɨƈǟʟɨȶʏ ɖǟɨʟʏ 🆄⓪🅶⓪🆆①🅲
A different man in awful emotional shape paces in front of the third Confessional booth.
Snot dribbles down crunched up hands, his pupils dilated, fearing the worst about something.
Looking beaten physically, he is escorted into the booth by a courteous but cautious local Martyr.
Plastic hoops snap as the curtain closes. Feeling even more panicked in the claustrophobic darkness.
The divider slides open to the screen. Suddenly he remembers where he is, and the etiquette demanded.
"Okay- uhhhh- bless- ble-
bless me Father, for I have sinned..."
The Priest gathers his materials, then performs a cross ceremonial in front of him.
Finally, he sighs within an inquiry of Faith.
"How long since your last confession, child?"
Someone accidentally knocks over a chair in the main hall, the man nearly jumps out of the booth.
The Priest begins to wonder if the mans fate on intention is to truly confess, but proceeds.
"Are you alright? Do you need medical care, or private counsel?"
With a stern yet concerned tone, the Priest tries to gather facts, yet comforts simultaneously.
"Yes! Yes, Father, can we go somewhere else, my nerves are just- suffocated."
Persistent urgency in his voice gives away more than his nerves current condition.
"Of course, the private study is more discreet..."
He leads the way back up a rod spiral staircase, nervously followed by the man constantly looking over his shoulder.
Moments later they sit in adjacent chairs. Gathering his emotions, trying to explain, the words spill out like thick oil.
"I bullied the wrong person. I- I- didn't realize he had these kind of connections,
I was arrogant, unrealistic, foolish..."
Truth mixed with inconsistent undertones. Meanwhile, the Priest notices the sedan out the window, creeping closer.
One Mobster using binoculars to try to get a peak anywhere they can, searching for someone.
"It's okay, son. Do you repent for your sins?
Are you putting it in God's hands?"
Pondering the question, he finally submits to the will of forgiveness,
too heavy from the guilt to bare another moment of grief.
Nodding, he weeps in relief of everything melting away.
"Let it out.
Just let it... all... go."
Handing him a white cloth tissue from his lapel pocket,
the Priest points at the open verse on the table he had left open to come down.
"Do you know what the Bible says about vengeance?"
Wiping his face, the man peers over at the verse, he nods reluctantly.
"I don't want vengeance. I just want this all to be over..."
Resolution deep in his eyes, met with understanding the situation at hand.
"I know you do."
The two lock eyes for a moment, before a mutual laugh breaks the ice, the man reaches out,
shaking the Priests hand, realizing how silly and paranoid he had been acting.
"I'm sorry to waste your time, Father.
Thank you."
The Priest pats his shoulder in reassurance. Resolute, the man gets up,
walking to the door, then pauses, turning around abruptly.
"Hey, what's your name, anyway?
Father what?"
"Oh, it's Father Reno,
Gabe Reno."
"Oooh, Gabriel...
like the Angel?"
"Not exactly."
They share a mutual smirk for different reasons, then part ways.
The man walks down the staircase whistling dixie with his new outlook.
He walks outside less paranoid, embracing his past and the mistakes made.
The Priest gathers his materials, then performs a cross ceremonial in front of him.
Finally, he sighs within an inquiry of Faith.
"How long since your last confession, child?"
Someone accidentally knocks over a chair in the main hall, the man nearly jumps out of the booth.
The Priest begins to wonder if the mans fate on intention is to truly confess, but proceeds.
"Are you alright? Do you need medical care, or private counsel?"
With a stern yet concerned tone, the Priest tries to gather facts, yet comforts simultaneously.
"Yes! Yes, Father, can we go somewhere else, my nerves are just- suffocated."
Persistent urgency in his voice gives away more than his nerves current condition.
"Of course, the private study is more discreet..."
He leads the way back up a rod spiral staircase, nervously followed by the man constantly looking over his shoulder.
Moments later they sit in adjacent chairs. Gathering his emotions, trying to explain, the words spill out like thick oil.
"I bullied the wrong person. I- I- didn't realize he had these kind of connections,
I was arrogant, unrealistic, foolish..."
Truth mixed with inconsistent undertones. Meanwhile, the Priest notices the sedan out the window, creeping closer.
One Mobster using binoculars to try to get a peak anywhere they can, searching for someone.
"It's okay, son. Do you repent for your sins?
Are you putting it in God's hands?"
Pondering the question, he finally submits to the will of forgiveness,
too heavy from the guilt to bare another moment of grief.
Nodding, he weeps in relief of everything melting away.
"Let it out.
Just let it... all... go."
Handing him a white cloth tissue from his lapel pocket,
the Priest points at the open verse on the table he had left open to come down.
"Do you know what the Bible says about vengeance?"
Wiping his face, the man peers over at the verse, he nods reluctantly.
"I don't want vengeance. I just want this all to be over..."
Resolution deep in his eyes, met with understanding the situation at hand.
"I know you do."
The two lock eyes for a moment, before a mutual laugh breaks the ice, the man reaches out,
shaking the Priests hand, realizing how silly and paranoid he had been acting.
"I'm sorry to waste your time, Father.
Thank you."
The Priest pats his shoulder in reassurance. Resolute, the man gets up,
walking to the door, then pauses, turning around abruptly.
"Hey, what's your name, anyway?
Father what?"
"Oh, it's Father Reno,
Gabe Reno."
"Oooh, Gabriel...
like the Angel?"
"Not exactly."
They share a mutual smirk for different reasons, then part ways.
The man walks down the staircase whistling dixie with his new outlook.
He walks outside less paranoid, embracing his past and the mistakes made.
Gabe takes off his glasses, using them to signal the sedan.
He picks up the Bible, removing the top page, then ripping off his collar.
Underneath is a mug shot of the man he was just talking to, and a bounty poster.
"What a bitch."