Confessional

The Basilica's decorative glass sparkled around us with the passing of cars and the glow of lights from buildings across the city. An impressive structure made of stone, the cathedral was the seat of Catholic power in the region, the home of an archbishop. Though I did occasionally attend church for Riley's sake, that didn't make this evening any less tense. Freckle was sitting with his mother and at least pretending to pray with her. His twiddling thumbs betrayed his anxiety. Nina had been busying herself with teaching Joseph the basics of etiquette in the church and the boy was doing remarkably well for what was surely a dull affair for him. Rocky wasn't much help in teaching these things, and I found myself wondering if he even knew the seriousness and risk we were about to subject ourselves too.

Nina opened her eyes and made the sign of the cross before sitting in silence for a few moments. She finally told us in a hushed tone, "I do love coming to this one for special occasions."

"Yeah, it is something. The painting must have taken a while." I whispered back.

"Not paintings Ethan, mosaics. They're still adding to it, but the cathedral was built just before the war." She added. "You should have seen the consecration last year. My old heart was light as a feather that day."

It was indeed a thing of beauty. An architects dream! Gold trim around the walls, massive arched domes clad with all kinds of holy scenes. The altar at the back of the cathedral was contained within its own smaller dome. Pillars full of color supported the stone structure underneath a mural depicting the apostles surrounding the sun. The scent of incense filled the air, giving this strange location a familiar feel to it. Really, it was impressive how something could be so intimidating and inviting all at once.

"I take it we aren't just here to admire the artwork." I suggested, being sure not to disturb anyone else's peace. There were only a few people here on this Sunday evening before Thanksgiving.

Nina nodded her head. "A priest is forbidden from mentioning anything said in a confession, but I don't want the local clergy to be tempted to talk. Being here in the center of the city makes it a lot easier to confess all those serious sins you have been committing."

"I take that as a kindness, Aunt Nina." Rocky whispered.

"Kindness indeed. Keep an eye on the booths in the corners, there should be an opening soon. Do you lads know what you'll be confessing too?"

"Oh yes." Rocky said. "I'll be—"

"I don't want to know, Roark. This is between you and the almighty so be honest and open."

The booths were carved into the wings of the cathedral. The pair on our right were housed under a smaller dome that depicted what I could only guess was Jesus forgiving someone. The booths on the left were in an unfinished section of the structure, yet I could make out flame and fire from the hints of the mosaic which was slowly taking shape. A patron exited one of the booths at that moment and I nodded to Freckle, pointing with my eyes. "You're up first, Freckle."

"Uh… yeah. I don't know if I'm ready…"

"Come now, Calvin." Nina said. "You best not keep the priest or God waiting. Would you rather have his mercy or his wrath and judgement?"

I supposed that was her way of providing encouragement, but it did get Freckle to stand up and push on. Nina did know her son.

Freckle was sweating from what he was about to do. He had sinned, he knew that. He had even taken a life! And that was on top of all the other crimes against men and the Lord. His fall from grace happened only in the span of a few months. He had been his mother's perfect son and a faithful boy right up until the rum running business came crashing into his life. Now he was going to spill it all. Well, spill at least some of the more important subjects. Listing everything would take all night and would be frustrating for the cat on the other side of the curtain as well as an inconvenience for the dozens of people who had showed up this evening for their turn.

The young priest had been lucky enough to find an assignment here in the heart of the Saint Louis Archdiocese right out of seminary. That was two years ago now and he was getting the hang of his day-to-day duties. In fact, he was becoming a natural with many of them, and confessions were something he was careful to do his absolute best. Surely, he had heard everything by now, right?

Well, the priest heard someone climb into the box with two feet and a cane. It was odd though that no voice came from the visitor's side of the booth. No matter, this sometimes happens. "The Lord is ready to hear your confessions. Open your heart and let the truth lay bare."

Freckle struggled to remember how this whole thing went, but he took a deep breath and found his words. "B-bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

The shaky voice confirmed it, this one was nervous and he would have to help this lost sheep through the experience. "I shall, and you are alright here. When was the last time you attended a confessional, my child?"

"Eh, almost eight months ago."

"Then the Lord welcomes you back from your absence. Do not be afraid, He wants to hear your sins so that they may be forgiven."

"O-okay. Well, my biggest sin in the last few months has been taking someone's life."

The priest paused. It wasn't his place to judge, but this was indeed a new one for him. "This is a mortal sin. What lead you to make this choice."

"My friends and family were at risk."

"So, you acted in defense?"

"Yes, but that still doesn't make it any better. A murderer isn't who I want to be."

"And you were not meant to be a murderer." The priest at least could relax a little hearing that this visitor wasn't some serial killer. Most likely he had killed someone who was trying to rob him. Still a tragic thing, but this was something he could handle.

"Are there other sins which you wish to confess?"

"Yes, there was one other. Father, I have… laid with a woman."

"And you have not yet committed to her?"

"Well… it is complicated. I love her and want to marry her, but I have fallen to temptation."

The priest smiled at the thought. He too had found love while in school. Of course, he had taken a vow to remain completely faithful to God so that love could not be, but at least there was an easy solution to this.

"Do you repent these sins?"

"Yes, father."

"Then you are forgiven. For the sin of taking a life, you are to start attending mass regularly and pray for yourself as well as for the man you have killed. For the other sin, the remedy is simple…"

Rocky's Remorse

Meanwhile, the priest that was unlucky enough to receive Rocky could hardly keep track of what the young man on the other side of the booth was listing.

"…then there was that time I had to steal a few dollars to feed myself after the circus went belly up. Oh yeah, and back in June I killed someone by lighting them on fire. They were trying to kill me though, so that's okay then, right?"

"W-was that all?" The elderly clergyman asked, his face pale with the horrible things he had just heard.

"Well, I would opine that those were all the serious things, but then I was graverobbing for liquor, buried a guy who tried to squeal on us. That one I didn't kill, just helping Miss M. Rum running, lighting a farm on fire, using a head injury to blackmail an undertaker… oh wait, that was Ivy. And—"

"Enough, son." The priest declared, clearing his throat and shaking his head. "You know this isn't a joke, right? Making up false stories and wasting the Lord's time is not a lighthearted matter."

"I am not making up anything, father. My aunt has brought me back to the church to clean up my wayward ways."

"This was the same aunt who kicked you out?"

"I'm so happy, father, that you were paying attention from the beginning. I understand this is all a bit much, but these are indeed sins I have committed."

"And you regret them?"

"Eh… most of them?"

"Most? Child, you cannot receive forgiveness for things you have done unless you are remorseful and wish to make amends between yourself and God."

"I want to, Father." Rocky said, his voice carrying sadness in him. "The truth is, Father, that I don't know where to begin to make amends. But I want to be better so that this child when has been entrusted to me won't have to live in fear of his new family falling apart."

A child was involved in all this? So this… rapscallion was now a father? The old priest took a deep breath and ran a hand through his fading hair. "You've been given the gift of a child, now this makes more sense. For the lessor sins you have committed, the Lord forgives you. However, these more serious trespasses against your fellow felines must be atoned for."

"I can't go to prison, father. I am all this boy has."

"The Lord will provide you with a way. I am certain of it. Until then, you can begin to walk the path of righteousness by seeking redemption in small ways. Teach and protect that child, love your family, and work to find your faith once more. Now, if that is all…"

"There is one more, Father. One I have wanted to talk about for months." The change in Rocky's tone could be felt through the booth. Taking in another deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever horrid thing was going to come next.

"One more then, bear the truth before the Lord, my son."

"I led my cousin into a life of crime… and it nearly got him killed."

"You regret this?"

"Yes!" Rocky could hardly contain the grief. "He's my little cousin. Well, Freckle is eighteen now, but still… I never wanted him to actually get hurt! I love him so much, and he says that he forgives me, but I just… I can't forgive myself. I don't want to be this way, father."

The old priest had heard similar stories before, and he could sense that this remorse was genuine. "The Lord forgives you, my child, but you must forgive yourself too."

"I will try, Father." He said before burying that self-loathing once more.

Rocky left the confession booth feeling rejuvenated once more! It was great to offload all that he had done to someone else, and God had even forgiven him for some of those things! Freckle and I could tell by the look on Rocky's face that he had just put the poor man in that box through the test of a lifetime.

"So, I take it your session went well?"

"It was great, Freckle!" Rocky said with excitement in his voice. A swift smack from Nina's purse reminded him to not get too loud. "…I told him everything."

"Everything?!" I was shocked. "You were in there almost twenty minutes! Don't tell us you—"

"Oh yes, I 've got the list right here…" Rocky pulled out a full sheet of paper that was scribbled on front and back. In between the drawings was a list of what must have been everything he had done since getting kicked out of the house."

"Wait, you were in Butte?"

"Yeah, with the traveling circus! It was one night though; we would have remembered if we met each other."

"Is see…"

"Hey, I said I didn't want to know, Roark. My heart can only take so much. Now, I believe it is your turn, Ethan."

"I think I need a few more minutes. Give the poor clergymen a break. There's a lot I need to talk about too."

"Suit yourself. We'll be in the car. Come along, children." Nina said, standing up and making the sign of the cross at the end of the pew. Everyone else followed her out the doors, and I could hear her muttering to the boys that "we should stay away from here for a while."

The Fourth Booth

After some time, I noted that the confession period would be wrapping up for the evening. I really did want to sit in the pew and take in the silence around me. The smell of the city could often remind be of Butte, but in here it was just like any other church… just bigger. It really was my hope that Riley could grow up more faithful than me. It would probably be her best shot at finding a husband one day… assuming I'd ever let someone get that close to my little sister. Well, that alone is a terrible thought. She was getting older and pretty soon wouldn't be needing me nearly as much.

But all this was a distraction. Let it never be said I wasn't true to my word. Standing up with a grunt, I felt the shock of pain from my broken rib course through my body. Breathing was painful, shooting was going to be damn near impossible. How the hell am I supposed to finish this fight when walking around felt like a knife stabbing into my side? Both Elsa and Quackenbush said that the pain would be almost completely gone by Christmas, but some of our problems weren't going to be able to wait until then. Even so, if a shattered rib from a bullet was the price of making sure that Luke Kennedy couldn't hurt my family, it was a worthy sacrifice.

For a moment I thought about going to the two confession booths on the left side where Rocky and Freckle had gone, but I decided that they had likely heard their share of terrible things tonight. God speaks through all of them, right? Then it was time for some other poor soul to earn their stipend for the month. I turned around and went to one of the booths on the right-hand side. Pulling the black curtain closed, I gently and slowly sat down, the last two inches being the most painful of all. The sharp stabbing feeling went away quickly though as I took pressure off that rib and settled into the corner of the small booth.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have committed many sins." I said, remembering the words from years ago when I had last done this.

"It has been a long time since you were last in confession, hasn't it?"

"Uh, yes. Long enough that I don't remember."

"It is alright, my child, I am glad you are here now. What is it that you wish to confess?"

"Well, I've done a lot, but I want to get the worst offenses out of the way first because they weigh on me the most."

"Then lighten your load…"

"Years ago I was a soldier in the war. I… murdered people. Dozens of people."

"These things, though terrible, do happen in war. You were not responsible for all that death."

"That's the thing though, I was. It is a long story, but for almost a week I had to fight Germans hand to hand. I stalked them at night, killed them from the shadows, stabbed them in their sleep. All to hold some worthless hill and stay alive. Some were even younger than me at the time. All of us were just kids…"

"And it was a tragedy, but even so you were doing as you were told and cannot be blamed for the actions you took."

"You don't know that." I said. I shouldn't argue with the priest, but the insinuation that I was blameless just didn't sit right with me. "If I'm not supposed to feel guilt, then why do I still hear the guns? Why do I still see the battlefield?"

"You are not alone in this. Many soldiers have found their way into this confession box. You took life, but you also saved lives, did you not?"

"I suppose so. The battalion was surrounded. If I didn't fight, then we all would have died."

"You must learn to forgive yourself and find a way to put that war behind you, my son." The voice through the curtain said. "It begins by accepting that there isn't anything you could have done differently. Even if you can't do that tonight, you should seek forgiveness in yourself until you find it."

"If that is what I must do, I will try."

"What else did you wish to confess?"

"The other big one is a great personal shame, Father. Since coming to Saint Louis, I have found myself in a cycle of revenge…"

"A dangerous thing for the soul."

"Yes. The men who murdered my uncle lived here. I killed one with my own hands and facilitated the death of the other."

"And this was in cold blood?"

"Well, not quite. They were going to destroy everyone I loved. It was still a sin to take their lives, but I did not see another option. And now I face a similar dilemma. I've recently taken another life. Well, in all honesty, I have been taking many lives and they weren't all about revenge."

"So what lead you to do all this killing?"

"They were targets assigned to me. I regret ever getting involved in that mess."

"You seek an exit then and wish to be forgiven?"

"I am seeking an exit, but I don't know if I deserve forgiveness. I must still finish the job if my family is to be safe, and yet I fear this new war is far from over."

"You will find a way, child. In the meantime, you must seek to find a balance within yourself and then a way to make amends with anyone who may seek to perpetuate the violence you have engaged in."

"So make peace with my enemies?"

"Make peace with the enemies who wish for peace. Killing is not endorsed in the faith, but if you seek to make peace as much as possible then future bloodshed may be averted."

"I am forgiven then? Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that. But remember, you must forgive yourself. Only then will you find a way to move beyond the killing which is so common in this city."

"Thank you, father. You have given me much to think about."

"If you require further guidance, do not hesitate to reach out."

Exiting the booth, I really did feel better… slightly. Whether I could find a way to move beyond justifying all the death I have wrought upon felines from Belgium to here was going to remain an unanswered question for now. Tomorrow, I had an appointment with a priestess. Maybe I could find some internal forgiveness there?

On my way out of the cathedral, I crossed paths with one of the priests. He smiled at me and stopped to ask his questions. "Did you find some peace, tonight, mister?"

"I think I did, at least a little bit. It's a rare thing for a soldier. He doesn't need to know specifically who I am, but please let the priest in the fourth confession booth know that he was very helpful to one of his visitors."

"I will be sure to pass the word along. Peace be with you, sir, and have a good night."

"Thank you, peace be with you also." I said before going toward the door and the car idling in the parking lot.

The priest continued about his duties until the more senior clergyman emerged from his booth and went about organizing a cleaning of the church after a lengthy Sunday. The next big day was going to be Thanksgiving Day. One of his younger colleagues came up to him with a calm demeanor. "One patron was particularly appreciative this evening, Father."

"You know I cannot reveal what is said."

"You don't have to, the patron wished to remain anonymous. But he wanted whoever was in the fourth confession box to know."

"The fourth? There is only three of us still here, no one is in the fourth booth." The elderly priest replied with a puzzled look.

Regrets of Ransom Rickaby

The combination of alcohol and his pain medication gave Ransom some relief from the ever-growing pain inside him. It felt like a knife fight down in his bowels and keeping food down was getting harder and harder to do. Since being kicked to the curb by the Lackadaisy crew and Rocky, Ransom hadn't found much reason to get out of bed. He wanted the pain to stop, for it to be over. Yet he didn't even own a gun or a piece of rope. That probably wouldn't convince him to take his own life, however, because deep down he knew this is what he deserved.

Perhaps it was the booze, or maybe the opiate elixir he had been prescribed, but lately he had a lot of time on his hands to think about his life. Was it a full life? A fulfilling one? Did anything he do count for something? He recalled childhood dreams of doing great things, exploring new places, seeing the world. In a way, he did manage to do some of that… and yet it all felt hollow. He didn't set out to become a gambler, a drunkard, or a selfish bastard; but that is exactly what all his life had amounted to. He had found love and threw it away. He had a son whom he wanted nothing to do with. Now, with the end of his life catching up to him, he wished to have been better.

Sitting up, he looked around the rotten apartment. What little food he had was going bad, there was trash strewn about as he could barely muster the will or the strength to at least keep the place looking like it was when he moved in. The place was uneven, dusty, moldy, and falling apart when he paid a couple of dollars to rent it out. It was a slumlord's dream! He couldn't stand it any longer! One way or another, Ransom decided he had to get out for a few hours and take in some fresh air.

Finding his least dirty clothes, Ransom dressed himself up as best he could for the chilly night. Snow will be here soon. The city didn't get much snow in winter, but the coldest months were upon them soon and the first signs of winter were creeping down from the north country. Out the door, Ransom stumbled away from the flat of apartments and made his way down the street. Something to keep his body moving, something to keep his mind occupied. That's all he was seeking. Down toward the river Ransom found himself immersed in fog blowing in from the Mississippi. It gave the industrial area a somber, quiet atmosphere.

A light caught his eye in the distance. It was a sign for a church, illuminating a simple wooden cross. Ransom detested being in a church, but it was open and he needed to find some temporary shelter for at least a few minutes before continuing on his painful walk. Inside, he let the warm air wash over him and bring life back to his frayed whiskers and dried nose. Even so, he did not belong here.

The church was mostly empty, save for a few vagrants like himself and a couple of city workers who were no doubt just getting off shift. Sunday might be a day of rest but tell that to the sewers! They were all alone, together, just trying to get through another night and meet another day in a few hours. It had been so long that Ransom could barely remember what to do after he sat down, but with no one else to talk to perhaps he could talk to God?

"So, uh, I guess I never thought I'd find myself in a place like this again. Kinda funny how that works, huh?" He said. There was no response, not even from the other patrons.

"Look, I know I screwed up. I mean, I've been screwing up. It's just… it's hard to break old habits. Where I'm going with this is, well, I could really use some advice." Still no response. Ransom felt silly doing this, of course there wasn't going to be a response. He had walked away from all this when he decided to start roaming the country and not once looked back. Even if God was out there, somewhere, he wasn't going to waste time on someone like him.

"Yeah, this is stupid." He said to himself, standing up. "But it was nice to warm up for a bit. Time to see if Old North still has some interesting characters."

Moving on, he shook his head at even thinking that would work. At least he could give himself the excuse of being intoxicated, though one would think that a hallucination would have come to him. A manifestation of his own subconscious? His inner thoughts personified through the voice of God? That's how it usually worked, right? If a priest wasn't giving you advice, your mind would think up something clever instead in a Holy place. The need to be comforted by the thought that someone was out there watching out for us was something Ransom could understand, even if he didn't believe it personally.

His legs carried him nearly a mile before he needed to find a place to rest once more. The only trouble was few places were open this early in the morning. Even the speakeasies were shut down for the night. He stumbled along a back street, narrow and old. So old that half-rotted cobblestones made up the bulk of the street like something right out of Victorian London. A raspy voice from the shadows called to Ransom as he passed a small crevice between two brick buildings.

"Hey, you got a quarter?"

"Only if you got the cure for cancer, friend. This gambler is a bit low on funds."

"How about a drink then? I could really use a drink."

"Left that at home, but I do have a flask of this…" Ransom pulled out a bottle of his opiate. "Some kind of liquid opium, I guess. It's helping me manage the pain though, so I don't know if I can—"

A hand reached out and grabbed the bottle before taking a deep swig from it. "Hey! Go easy on that stuff, I still need most of it!"

"Oh, sorry. I just really needed something. Boy, that has a kick!" The cat said before handing the bottle back and revealing himself. Small, grey, tattered ears, light scars from a fight covering one eye. If Ransom thought he was down on his luck, this cat made him look like a lottery winner by comparison.

"Here, you look like you could use a cigarette too. I need one as well." Ransom said, offering the cat one of his remaining cigs. A paper match between them, they were soon sitting on the corner smoking.

"Hey, thanks. It's hard to get money for things when you look like I do." The cat said.

"Street cats got to look out for each other, right? Besides, I don't know how much longer I can last anyway." Ransom replied.

"You said cancer?"

"Yeah, down in the gut. Nothing the doc can do. I always wanted to die painlessly, but you can't get everything you want, right? How do cats like us end up here?"

"It's a good question." The cat replied. "Way back when I was a stupid kid, I was destined to be in football. I dreamed of playing for the Billikens, but one bad hit took me out. Now look at me." He said, gesturing to himself and the little hole between two buildings he called a home.

"Tragic fates all around. I guess I earned mine, though. My own son doesn't even want me. I'd love nothing more than to be angry, but I can't be."

"You've got a son! You need to find him, make things right. That's what I would do… if there was anyone, I could call family."

"No, I screwed up really bad. If I showed myself around there, his friend would blow my head off."

"Eh, better than dying of cancer, right?"

"I think I'll pass on that for now. You know, he's got a kid too. Adores that boy like the child was his own. Hell, I thought that kid was his at first."

"That's really nice…" The stranger said, though Ransom couldn't tell if he was paying attention to what he was saying or just admiring the foggy street in front of them. Either way, it didn't really matter.

"Yeah, Rocky is better than me, that's for sure."

"Rocky? Zib mentioned a Rocky once." Virgil perked up. "You know Rocky?"

"Yeah… that's what I've been saying. Rocky is my son. But you know Zib?"

"Yeah, the uh, what did he play again. Clarinet, I think."

"Saxophone."

"Oh yeah, he plays that too. Tell him that ol' Virgil says 'hi' when you see him next."

"If I see him, sure. I'm not welcome at the Lackadaisy though. I just… I wish there was some way to make this right. But even if I started right now, I'm going to be dead in a few weeks. I can feel it deep in my bones."

"Let me tell ya, friend. When you're chance comes, take it. I've had many chances and passed them up." Virgil said. "You got a quarter?"

"uh, no…" Ransom was confused since the guy had asked just a couple of minutes ago. "But I guess I can give my new friend, Virgil, another cigarette."

"It's great to have friends!" He said, while taking another one out of the carton and lighting it up.

He couldn't help but wonder at the exchange that just happened. A vagrant just gave him, a lifelong gambler, some advice. Even the broken mind could have a coherent thought, or something like that. Virgil was right though; if, no, when an opportunity presented itself to do the right thing, Ransom was going to take it. Rather poetic really, to do at least one good thing before death. What it was going to be he did not know yet. That's the part that scared him.

Leap of Faith

"Are you sure?" I asked Sera as she and Nico pushed me toward this 'temple' as they called it. It looked more like some shack on the edge of town. "You know, if you two still wanted to kill me there are easier ways to go about it. Especially now that I can barely walk."

"Nonsense, cher, I said I was gonna help you, and I am. Manbo Loda helps everyone who asks." Sera said, smiling in her typical, unsettling way.

"Manbo?"

"That's a Voudou Priestess." Nico explained. "Not like my sister, she serves Maitre Carrefour alone."

"You know, I'm starting to think Mordecai wasn't exaggerating when he said not to trust you guys."

"Mordecai doesn't know a thing 'bout us. You'll be fine, now go. Don't keep her waiting!"

"Alright, alright! Jeez, just quit shoving. I might be slow, but I can move without assistance. It's just painful, that's all."

I stepped into the small room, hobbling along with the blackthorn cane I borrowed from Freckle. He was moving well enough now that he didn't need it the whole time, but I could sure use it for a couple of weeks. Candles, perfumes, decorations made of everything from flowers to bones surrounded the small space, and in the center was a woman who sat at a small table. She was wearing makeup that was similar to Serafine, but with stronger hues. Her dark hair was bound up in cloth and a heavy cross hung around her neck. Her eyes opened and a smile spread across her face.

"Welcome, Ethan Kelly. I am madame Loda."

"I take it that you are the priestess Serafine told me about."

"Yes. Please, come sit. She had given me insight to your… problem."

I sat down on the low stool, my frame crouching in order to avoid hitting many of the artifacts and decorations which hung from the ceiling. "So, this is voudou?"

"Yes. Very different from what you were expecting, isn't it?"

"I was under the impression that there would be more… gruesome things in here. Sacrifices, zombies, that sort of stuff."

"You think this because Voudou was not meant for outsiders like you. Even your… colleague, practices from one small branch of a large and ancient tree. But I will help you to break free from this ignorance. I came to your country from Haiti, and the roots of our religion were first planted centuries ago in the place of my ancestors, Dahomey. Since then there have arisen many interpretations, as well as many corruptions of Voudou. And yet, you've been bound to one of the oldest of the Lwa."

"Ogun." I confirmed. "Every time I fight. Every time I kill. Every time I face death, his symbol is there."

"And you wish for this to stop?"

"Yes. It is difficult to explain, but I had fought alongside a Voudou practitioner in the war. I do not know how, but from the moment of his death in battle it's like I've been… possessed."

She looked at me for a moment without saying a word. Poking and prodding me with a small stick. At one point she even jammed the tip of the stick in my mouth, revealing my canines.

"Hmm, you do not appear possessed. You do not speak in tongues? You do not convulse?"

"No…" I said, my enunciation being distorted by this invasion of privacy. "Could you please remove the stick?"

She did so and put the stick back to where it was on the table. "You are not possessed, child. In fact, Ogun has no hold of you at all."

"What? But—"

"It is your mind, silly boy! Tell me, when did you begin to regret your actions?"

"Part of me has always felt guilt for the violence I've brought into this world, but lately I've been burdened with consequences for this violence. Most recently, this…" I lifted up my shirt and pulled back my coat to reveal the scar. "Bullet hit a rib, broke it into a half a dozen pieces. I can barely walk without there being pain, let alone fight."

"So when you began to feel this guilt more strongly, Ogun's symbol appeared to you more often. You don't find this to be related?"

"I guess I don't know…"

"And that is why I can be of assistance. Mr. Kelly, you are bringing Ogun upon yourself. You've come to associate him with violence and war."

"I thought he was a spirit of war."

"No, he is not. Warriors may call upon him and Ogun is a warrior, but he is not like the Gods you Europeans know. Perhaps if I enlighten you to Ogun's true nature, you will be able to dispel this association."

"It is worth a shot…"

"Good. Now, pull out that knife you have stashed in your coat."

"My… how did you know?"

"I sensed it. You were a soldier; you would never come into a strange place without some means of protection."

"Fair enough." I said, unsheathing the bayonet and laying it on the table.

"This weapon is made of steel, which is derived from iron. This, right here, is the true symbol of Ogun. He is a warrior and a blacksmith among the Lwa from the days when wars were fought with spears instead of guns. The first to cut a path through the forest, the one who beat back the dark spirits, and one who's wrath can destroy civilizations. But a warrior is not some brute who kills for pleasure. A warrior guards and protects his people. That is what you want to do, correct? And while you were protecting your people, no bullet or blade could harm you. Recently, you have been touched by your enemies because you have strayed from this path you set for yourself. Your mind is using Ogun, or what you think Ogun is, to warn you of this."

"What should I do, then?"

"You must learn when to fight and when to make peace, especially within yourself. No one can change the past once a deed has been done."

"That sounds similar to a priest I was talking to last night. He said I must forgive myself."

"That priest is a wise man, Ethan Kelly. If it is a peaceful life you wish to have, then you must create it. Put down your rifle, put down your knife. Take up a hammer or a saw or a plow instead."

"I am afraid though. Terrified. There are people who wish to kill me and destroy my family."

"And when they come for your family, you will know what to do. But you will not find peace through endless killing. This is what you must stop doing. Let this Ghost pass on. What remains will be Ethan Kelly. Learn to be better than you are now."

"How can I possibly know if that will be enough?"

"You can't, and neither can I. I do not see into the future because it is not yet written. But belief is not knowing, Mr. Kelly. Belief is a leap of faith."