A Short Story Of A Young Boy's Confessions

Father it’s been about five years since my last confession.” The young penitent blessed himself then continued. “I…” Examining the tight surroundings of the wooden confessional box, the remorseful teen experienced for the first time in his seventeen years, the precise meaning of claustrophobia. “Sorry Father, it’s been awhile.”

The priest understood the young man’s angst. The boy has a heavy heart and he would like to cleanse for Christmas…guilt ridden…guilt driven. In the teen’s voice, and what he could guess of his size through the confessional screen, the priest figured the penitent about seventeen years old, no more than eighteen. Two days before Christmas, the boy wants a clean conscience for the holiday, like so many others tonight.

Before opening the church’s main doorway onto the street, the priest’s hunch was correct. The boy is gone. What did I say? What was his rush? Why did he come here in the first place? Guessing incorrectly the teen’s early escape, the priest carefully stepped out onto the snow packed entrance of the church. It was here when he recognized the teen penitent sprinting between two parked cars. “Young man! Wait, don’t go!” Surprised to see the teen only crossing the street now, the priest tried one last time to corral the fugitive. “Son wait, we need to talk!” Without looking back, the teen hurried his footsteps to a jog. A block further, the penance seeker, disappeared from the priest sight and vanished into the shadows of a Brooklyn park.

The priest stood bewildered on the snow covered entrance way to his church, not knowing what to do next. The northern wind of the winter evening awoke the pastor from his stupor. How did I lose him and where is he off too? Recalling their short conversation word for word, he did not notice the fluctuating wind, only the tortured tone of the confused teen. What commandments did he really break? What brutal acts did he not stop? His dreams of grayness. What is he going to do now? The priest silently pondered the unanswered questions in the wintery