Confession
The hall was filled with silent staring, people glancing every few minutes towards the iron-barred double doors, waiting for Tim to appear.
For you see, no one called him Vicar or Saint, just Tim.
A clatter was heard before someone came through the doors, the creaking of its resistance echoed throughout the once peaceful ambience.
A tall, pale man came into the room, his dead eyes scanned over their faces like he was judging them; disgust evident on his face. Silently, he paced towards the front. At first glance, you would think he never smiled. He does, it's just no one ever sees.
When he reached the front of the crowd, his yellow, blotchy hands formed the sign of prayer as he faced the once brass-coloured crucifix.
It's withered over the years; turning into a rusted piece of metal, its shape slowly deforming.
Turning towards the people, he clasped the hole-ridden podium firmly, his bone-shaped hands clicked in place.
"Greetings, disciples of the holy" he spoke in a whispered voice, his venomous tone made him sound even more dead; like he shouldn't be speaking at all.
"I assume you have heard the news of my dear brother. For, you see, he sinned against our heavenly father and has now paid the price. We must understand: if you sin, there will be consequences" he ended his statement.
Before another word left his thin, chipped lips, the echo of the creaking doors soon reached their ears. He glanced up to see a man's head poke out from behind the door.
"Excuse my intrusion, but is there a Mr. Lovejoy present?" the stranger asked bluntly, his warm, brown eyes glancing around the room, a cheerful grin adorned his face.
Tim's eyes visibly narrowed at the newcomer: how dare he interrupt my speech, nobody interrupts my speeches. Who does he think he is?
He was silent for a few moments before he spoke, slight anger in his tone,
"I...Am...Present" he spoke, trying not to lash out at him; it would not end well.
The man's eyes rested on Tim, his grin slightly diminished at his appearance.
"Um...yes, well...I-I was wondering if I could possibly talk to you, just for a moment, I mean" he stuttered, his cheerful expression losing enthusiasm the more Tim glared.
Eyes cast down, he debated if he should bother talking to him; his patience was already thin with this one.
After a few more moments, his ice blue eyes lifted and stared down at the morsel,
"What's your name?" he asked sharply
"H-Homer Simpson, sir" he stuttered, losing courage in the vicar's presence,
"Simpson, follow me...and you better pray this is important" he added before stepping away from the podium and made his way to a darkly-lit hallway, Simpson close behind.
Their footsteps echoed throughout the frost-chilled hall, the spiders crawling along the walls made it all the more displeasing,
Finally, they reached a single, wooden door; a single black cross hung above it gave the room an unwelcome feeling.
Carefully, Tim took a necklace off which held a cross-shaped key. He inserted it and gently turned it, making the lock groan.
As he opened the door, Homer felt a...disturbance in the air, like he just woke something from its sleep.
That feeling carried with him as he entered an office-like chamber.
The blood red walls were cracked and chipped; shrivelled...things littered the floors. In the centre of the room, stood a lone desk and chair. The plain black desk held a single piece of paper and a narrow tube of pens.
"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to sit?" Tim barked at him, making him jump; quickly jogging towards the chair.
After he was seated, he turned to face Tim, but he was not there. Nervously, he turned to find a pale-death face inches away from his.
He gasped, literally jumping from the chair, only to find the face belonged to Tim, not at all pleased by his actions.
"Mr Simpson, will you be quiet! You're in a church, be sensible!" he ordered him, the glare never left his face.
Silently, he nodded slowly, still trembling from shock. Tim calmly placed his hands behind his back,
"Good. Now, tell me what you want" his voice losing a piece of its anger. Homer seemed to relax, his body grew less tense.
"Well, sir, I'm actually here because...I did something...really bad" his face fell.
"And you want to confess your sins?" Tim stated, like he heard it a million times before.
"Yes, you see, I...I" He started but was having trouble saying it aloud.
"Well, come on. Speak up" he barked, beginning to lose all patience he had left.
"I...I think I...murdered someone" he whispered, before it became an awkward silence.
Tim stared at this man like he had just grown two heads. Murder? The heathen, the...the cutthroat!
What respect he had for the man, which was close to none, was completely gone. He was about to act, to yell at him, but he stopped.
He will get his punishment soon, just he wait. God will not stand for this.
"...Leave" he told him, turning away from him. How dare he corrupt these halls with his presence.
He didn't turn to see Homer look up in shock, before taking his leave, not wanting to stay a moment longer.
"When you sin, there will be consequences"
A few hours later, two figures entered his office, and from the looks of it, were here on business.
"Welcome gentlemen, do you require my services this lovely evening" he asked politely,
"No thank you, we need to ask some questions. Earlier today, a man named Homer Simpson was found dead, killed by a cross in the head. We have witnesses saying you were the last person to see him alive" he stated
"Yes, he came here to confess and, after I gave my blessing, went on his way" Tim said
"And that was the last you saw him?" the second one asked,
"Yes officer" he said, no emotion in his voice, just...nothing.
"Well then, thank you for your time. Oh and the cross that was used, do you recognize it?" he asked, holding a blood-soaked cross
"No, officer. I've never seen it in my life" he spoke
"Ok, thank you again for your time" they said before nodding and leaving the office. When Tim was in solitude, he turned around to find the black cross gone.
"Huh? Now where's that gone?" he asked himself, staring at the now blank space, confused by its disappearance. When he turned to sit on the chair, he felt someone else's presence.
He sighed as he looked up at the silent, empty room,
"What the?" he whispered, before he saw it and his eyes widened.
"No, not you. Anything but you" he whimpered as it came closer,
"No, no please. No...NOOOOOO!"
Silence.