Confession

You can’t dance in flames and not expect to get burned. What is love, after all, but not flames? It stings like the rays of the early morning sun. It’s a blinding and cruel angel in the light of misguidance. Candace was my twisted blessing and an unforeseen curse.

Her chestnut eyes glisten in the drops of Heavenly tears. Her laughter was as lyrical as the sound of tubular bells in a church house belfry. I can’t count how many times I listened to her confession. How many Sundays evenings I spent in ruin listening to the spigot of sin run from the faucet of her lips?

How long had that restless night courted the council of her nightmares? When she speaks, her mouth trembles slightly. Her parched lips vault secrets that shatter her spirit like the contours of delicate glass.

“I honestly didn’t seem him coming from behind me, Father. It was dark, and Campus is deserted on weekends. The only light I had was that of the moon.”

“Go on, child, Take your time. God is listening,” I instructed.

“I was almost to my dorm. At first I heard footsteps. It was dark out, and I was already scared. So I thought that maybe my mind was going just playing tricks, and I didn’t want to entertain childhood follies and bedtime stories.”

“I understand,” I stated comfortingly.

“I felt his hands behind me first. They cuffed over my lips and I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I started to cry and that’s when I felt his weight crash into me. I hit the ground like a case of cement. I couldn’t see his face. This man ripped at my clothes like a hawk tears at the meat of a fresh kill. My garments split in ribbons and pieces in the talons of his man’s hands.”

“What did he look like my child?”

“I don’t know, Father. He wore a mask as dark as the shadows he played in.”

“I’m so ashamed, Father. When he was inside me I tried to pray, but I couldn’t find the words. Then it was over, as quick as it had begun. My panties were tattered and I was so sore. I could barely walk. He left me naked on the bare grass like I was a piece of litter.”“I feel like it’s my fault, Father. That I asked for this.”

“Join me at the Altar, my child, right after Mass and we’ll pray together,” I advised her.

“Thank you, Father. God bless you.”

Candace makes her way out of the confessional as I hold a piece of the tattered fabric of her panties with absolution to which the faithful clutch the cross.

Tonight, I will finish what I started under the glow of our maiden moon. I will absolve her of her sins and carry her soul to Heaven on the wings of savage ecstasy.

Confession

John Braxton  Sparks

Morehead, United States

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 18

Artist's Description

A damaged woman makes a confession to her priest.
copyright 2009 by John Braxton Sparks

Artwork Comments

  • Solar Zorra
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • Alison Pearce
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • Arcadia Tempest
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • sandra22
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • sinX
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • Zolton
  • dancharles
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • bluewhite
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • ANNIESUNSHINE
  • John Braxton  Sparks
  • ROUBLE RUST
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.