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    Last Confession
    Last Confession
    Last Confession
    Ebook46 pages33 minutes

    Last Confession

    By Michael McDonald

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    About this ebook

    Richard Adams is a father, in more ways than one. Once a man of the cloth, he gave it all up to live the family life, but acts of God took his wife and then his daughter away from him. Richard dies drunk and alone, only to find himself in heaven, reunited with his loved ones. Yet eternal bliss is not all it's cracked up to be, and Richard soon clashes with God himself over his missing daughter.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael McDonald
    Release dateMay 16, 2012
    ISBN9781476237695
    Last Confession
    Author

    Michael McDonald

    Writer, reader, ranter; Michael J. McDonald likes an eclectic range of things, but not bananas. He started writing stories before he could write by hand, sticking printed words together to form the sentences in his first days of school, then bothering the teacher to print off more so he could complete his epic. Things have come full circle, as due to injury he finds himself again unable to write by hand, but thanks to the magic box on his desk his prose continues to flow. Unless somebody is wrong on a forum. Being a grumpy misanthropist with a cane leads to a particularly disillusioned undercurrent in his writing, but it's not all doom and gloom. Sometimes he lets most of the characters live. Though sometimes they'll wish they didn't. Michael has been published by Quantum Muse magazine, Wherever It Pleases e-zine, Books To Go Now and the University of Glasgow Student Association. He is currently working on a sequel to Underworld and a more adult novel that is a cheerful story of teen angst, rebellion and death.

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      Book preview

      Last Confession - Michael McDonald

      Last Confession

      by

      Michael J. McDonald

      Smashwords Edition

      * * * * *

      Published by Michael J. McDonald at Smashwords

      Cover Photograph by Krijn Jonckheere (vtm @ stock.xchng)

      Dismantle

      Copyright 2012 by Michael J. McDonald

      Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

      A lot of people have been saying that to me today.

      A pause. It has been seventeen hours since my last confession.

      No sense of humour, but Father Adams put that behind him for the moment. It's not as if it were unusual. Sometimes he felt he was listening to mere robots, unable to deal with an interruption in the program. However, this was... unusual. This penitent had chosen to keep the screen closed, though it was a simple brass lattice. One could easily peer through if one wished, it was there more for tradition than anything else. Father Adams kept his head bowed. Whoever this was, he did not need to know, but the young voice and shabby trainers poking through the gap at the bottom of the stall told him that it was a man, a boy really, somewhere in his late teens. Teenagers did not go to confession twice in twenty four hours.

      And you have sinned again in that time?

      Aye, Faither. I've done a bad thing.

      And what was that?

      I’ve killed a man.

      Father Adams’ clean-shaven cheek flickered with a smile. Oh, he’d heard this one before. You have?

      Aye, faither. But it could’ve been worse.

      You could have killed two men?

      I could’ve killed a Catholic. Bastar’, pardon my French, was a Proddy-dog.

      We are all God’s children, Father Adams found himself saying. Meh, it was probably right, even if it was mechanical, so he allowed the machine to roll on. To take the life of anyone is a very grave matter.

      But Faither, doesnae the Bible say somethin' aboot cutting off your right hand if it makes ye sin?"

      Adams paused the videotape which had been primed in his mind. Well, yes, but how did this man cause you to sin?

      He was my boyfriend, Faither. Do you no' remember me confessin' yesterday to bumming him?

      Father Adams opened his mouth and found that he had nothing to say.

      Couldnae get enough of him, Faither, but you said to cut him oot of my life, cause my love for him was leadin' me astray, away from what’s nat’ral. His life or mah soul, Faither.

      Thud. Richard Adams’ head cracked against the wall of the confessional. Everybody lies in the confessional. It’s when they start telling the truth that he can’t stand it.

      Faither?

      He sighed. He never heard another confession, till the day he died. He

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