The exercise:
Write about: the confession.
All four of us went to our favorite coffee shop this morning for the first time as a group since... probably May? June at the most recent.
It was nice. I got a coffee, Kat had tea, and we got Max a hot chocolate made with almond milk. Even ran into a couple friends while we were there. On such a grey, windy, cold day, it was a nice treat.
Mine:
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last conf-"
"No."
"Uh... no?"
"No. Absolutely not. Get out."
"But Father! I come seeking salv-"
"Seek it elsewhere. I will not bear witness to your sins again."
"Again? Oh, that was you last time?"
"Yes, it was. And I have yet to have a sleep devoid of nightmares since. So leave now. Please?"
"No way, Father. I know how this stuff works. I spill, you listen, I say a few dozen Hail Mary's, and boom shakalaka my slate's wiped clean!"
"Then spill to some other listener this time. I do not have the stomach for your misdeeds."
"Nuh uh, Father. We're in this together. So buckle up and get ready for some seriously crazy stuff!"
"Crazier than last...? Hold on a moment, child. I need to get a bottle of wine. To, uh, help me give you the best possible counsel. And assign you a proper penance. And... I think I'll make it two bottles, actually."
2 comments:
The coffee shop sounds perfect for a grey and windy day, and the bonus of seeing friends there is icing for the cake! Is that the shop with the childrens' play area? I went to the gym last night, which is more energetic than drinking coffee and (ultimately) just as relaxing. Just ignore the guy in there who spent the whole time on his phone doing no exercise and who probably got more relaxed than all of us!
Hah, you made me laugh with the priest's reaction to the entrant to the confessional! I pity the poor Father, especially since he's already judging this to be a two-bottle confession. He should sell indulgences -- at least then he doesn't have to hear the stories....
The confession
"Lady Campion's dead?" David Suture eyed his companion coldly. "Ernest, you know that I've just treated her for minor contusions and a graze. She certainly can't be dead."
"Precisely my point," said Ernest. He shook the newspaper page. "Yet her obituary is here, as plain as your water. It could be a simple mix-up, but this is the Times and they are held to a high standard by their readers."
"They could do better on the Items of Magical Note."
"Perhaps they have a junior editor there at the moment? Nevertheless David, I am sure that there is a meaning to this. But I think I lack enough information to elucidate it."
A young man dressed in the livery of the train-company stopped at their table and bobbed his head deferentially. He was short, had acne he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide under a thin black beard, and deep-set brown eyes. His hair was messy but within regulation guidelines, and his fingernails were clean. "Excuse me, Sirs," he said quietly. "There is a gentleman of the cloth who says he knows you." Ernest looked towards the end of the First Class section and saw a middle-aged man with a lined face and gentle grey eyes waiting patiently.
"I don't recognise him," said David. "Probably a chancer."
"But I do, I think," said Ernest. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then came back. "Yes. That would be Father Ignatz. He's a Capuchin, I believe he was Lord Campion's confessor. Please, ask him to join us."
The young man hesitated, clearly unwilling to say what he was supposed to.
"Ah!" Ernest seemed to read the cause of the young man's indecision from his face. "Would you be so kind as to take my drink and keep it behind the bar for the moment? The Capuchin order is as tolerant of alcohol as the Order of Magicians, David."
David looked sour, though whether because of Ernest's comment or his invitation to the priest was impossible to tell. The young man smiled and hurried away with the drink, and Father Ignatz joined them, moving slowly and carefully.
"Lord Derby," he said, easing himself into a seat. "Thank-you so much for allowing me a moment of your time. I had hoped I might see you at the funeral, and had intended to endeavour to speak to you then, but seeing you here on the train felt so strongly like God's will...."
"Call me Ernest, please. This is Dr. David Suture, a Magician of the Realm and an excellent friend. David, this is Father Ignatz. He specialises in confessions and possessions."
Father Ignatz smiled. The young man appeared and set two glasses of water in front of him and Ernest and disappeared again.
"I have an interesting story to tell you about possession," he said. "And I'd welcome any insight you might have. But I actually wanted to speak you to about a confession I took from a dying man that might have bearing on the funeral tomorrow."
Greg - no, the one with the play area is in Penticton. This is just our regular coffee shop here in town.
I've been feeling the urge to get back into the gym recently. Haven't actually done anything about it yet, but... hey, it's a kind of progress.
Hmm, another intriguing development in this tale. I enjoyed your description of the young man, as well as the introduction of Father Ignatz. And I would very much like to hear about this confession!
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