Excerpt: Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

The heels clip clopped on the stone floor, creating a strange echo that rang around the large, spacious and empty room. The heels were beautiful, expensive, the very best. Of course, she’d have nothing less on her feet – the heels emphasised the beauty of her feet, the jade green strap drawing attention to the pedicure on the deep red nails, the white curve at the tip of each toe perfect. Like the heels she wore, her feet were beautiful and in fact, perfect. Everything about her was perfect. At first glance, most thought they saw an apparition upon seeing her. An angel. But she was no angel. Almost the opposite in fact. The long fingers of her right hand were currently curled around the shoulder strap of a dark green bag, the nails at the end reaching a standard of perfection you would expect, once seeing her feet. Deep red in colour, each long sharp, beautiful. Now, they uncurled and rested on the edge of one of the long wooden pews, the clip clop of her heels coming to an abrupt stop. A crimson smile created by expensive lipstick played at the corners of her mouth, as her fingers – one by one – tapped on the wood.

God how she hated these pews, those uncomfortable seats that made you keep your back straight and numbed your arse. Plus you never knew if the delicate, patterned cushions were for your knees or your buttocks. Did it matter though? No. She thought. No, it doesn’t. Of course not. And she had been going through the motions for so long, that she really didn’t give a damn anymore.

Still.

She now slipped into one of the pews, one deep green eye fixed on the box to the edge, almost completely draped in shadows. Her fingers laced themselves together, and as if repeating a gesture done many times before, her elbows rested on the back of the pew in front, her head bowed, an eye constantly on the box, before her lips began to move in silent prayer.

Silent, non-existent prayer.

After all, what was the point? She had nothing to pray for, and no one would listen anyway. If she really wanted to talk to Him, then she could. Praying did nothing, for her or 99% of the world’s population. Oh, she would admit it could make them feel better, but that was it. The truth of the matter was she was all too aware that no one would be listening, least of all the Big Cheese Himself.

She had been there when it had become too overwhelming for Him, when he had turned around and decided that his precious humans only turned to him when they wanted something, but other than that, humanity was screwed. He had all but given up; but they hadn’t. They kept fighting amongst themselves, those with power no where near The Almighty’s, but power nevertheless.

Now, her attention was drawn by movement in the shadows, by the door of the box opening and a tall man stepping out, brushing dust of his suit as his eyes scanned the pews, coming to a rest on her. She nodded solemnly in greeting, whilst relishing the spark of desire and lust in his dark eyes. She stood slowly, taking her time to move between the pews and towards him. His eyes followed her the whole way, and she knew she would most likely be the topic on his next Confession.

He stepped out of her way, and she bowed her head, ever so slightly, glancing up at him through deep dark eyelashes. She could see him swallow, could see the way her very presence made him feel nervous. Then, suddenly, he turned and strode towards the entrance, making the form of the cross as he went.

She let another smile play on crimson lips, before pulling back the curtain and sliding into the booth.