Oblivion

Epilog

"Jesus told the crowd another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a man sows in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, yet it grows into something greater than all garden plants, becoming a tree where birds can nest." Thats good." The priest paused, hastily scribbling a note about the reading, his mind at ease. He would search for the sermon text later, perhaps tomorrow. As he surveyed the shadowy corners of his church, the flickering confession booth light cast grotesque shapes against the stone walls. So late? Surely, sin knows no clock. Gathering his notes, he approached the booth, half-expecting Mr. Norman, the neighbor's petty thief. Instead, the oppressive darkness revealed a unknown figure. Clearing his throat, he steeled himself for what lay ahead.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen," the stranger intoned, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the silence, startling the priest.

"God, who enlightens our hearts, grant you true understanding of your sins and His mercy," the priest replied, leaning back, trying to mask his growing unease.

"Amen."

An oppressive silence enveloped them, each heartbeat thunderous in the stillness. The priest's brow furrowed, the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. "This is where you confess, my son," he urged, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"I not here to talk about my sins, priest."

The smile vanished, replaced by an icy grip of fear, sweat started trickling down his back. "I don't understand."

A rustle broke the stillness, heavy and sinister. "Don't worry, you will." A lighter flared, illuminating a tattooed snake coiling around the man's wrist, then plunging them back into suffocating darkness.

Indignant yet shaken, the priest straightened, the air thickening with tension. "Smoking is strictly forbidden in this church!"

"Trust me, that's the least of your worries." The man inhaled slowly, savoring his words like poison. "We were puzzled when we found nothing on your computer, but then we uncovered that folder." The priest's face drained of color, a cold dread enveloping him. "Odd that it was password protected. Her initials and the date she came to you—not very original, if you ask me." The cigarette glowed ominously again, casting a ghastly light on the man's expression.

"Th—that's impossible!" the priest stammered, each word a desperate gasp as panic clawed at him. It couldn't be. They assured him it was safe!

"And yet here we are tonight. The original plan was to keep you under observation till she decides what she want to do with you, but now we find that folder, with all the pictures of my family, our plans had changed a bit. Can't keep a stalker. I'm sure you will understand."

A horrific realization crashed over him, like icy water dousing a flame. "You're one of them, aren't you? What do you want?  You can't kill me!"

"You see, thats where you're mistaken." Fingers gripped the grate with a feral intensity. In the dim light, he saw the tattooed snake coiling tighter. They wrenched the grate away, the sound echoing like a death knell. Eyes from the shadows bored into him, glinting with a predatory hunger. "I would do anything to protect my family. I even killed my own father, and he was the person I loved the most, so yours will be a mere whisper in comparison."

Desperation seized the priest as he stumbled from the booth, collapsing and scrambling backward toward the door. Every fiber of his being screamed to flee, but his legs felt like lead. "I have contacts! Important contacts!" he gasped, panic surging through him like ice water.

Unmoved, the man looked down at him, a cruel smile curling his lips. "You mean your little chat friends? Don't worry, we'll take care of them, just like everyone else who's laid eyes on those videos."

"But murder is a sin! I am a men of god! You'll end up in hell for this!" The darkness closed in, suffocating him, each breath becoming a struggle as the priest's heart raced, pounding out a desperate rhythm of impending doom. The shadows seemed to reach for him, wrapping around him, and in that moment, he knew he was ensnared in a web of his own making, his unconfessed sins rising like specters, ready to claim him.

The man's smirk widened, a grotesque mask of amusement. "Then I guess we'll meet again there."