-𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞
*********************************
After spending roughly two hours in the cell , Christian decided to head to the refectory ,glad that the fast for lent was in a week , had it not been so , the lack of sleep and starvation would've weakened him .
He joined fellow monks , catching up on the activities set for the day , and listening to the few that reflected on as they phrased it , "the impeccably delivered homilee , that ought to give anyone spiritual satisfaction".
Some gossiped of the new "quitter " who had left the previous night . Looks it was not only he who had had a long night .
They recited the grace before meals, sat and they shared their breakfast , in peaceful chatter .
Christian, however , sat in seclusion, lost in his own thoughts and not really up to trying to engage with the rest , prefering to be done and head to his business.
As soon as he was done , he went to the kitchen , thanked the chefs , washed his crockery and went eastbound , down the cloister to pay the fathers a visit .
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢.
Read the sign at the door , next to it , the board was green , indicating that there was a priest present . Taking a deep breath , he pushed the doors open , and sat at the confessional .
Starting with the sign of the cross , he spoke ;
"Bless me father , for I have sinned , " he began his contrition , sealing his fate . Now he couldn't back down.
"It has been seven months , sixteen days since my last confession , my sins , mostly venial - or so to speak - but a burden I carry , in my conscience , for I have lusted after another ... an..another ...man . I place myself , infront of thy divine mercy . Seeking pardon , for my sins. For my penance , I shall begin my fast , earlier than when lent begins in hopes that the Lord will take mercy on me . " He was glad that the priest had let him choose his own penance , and went on to recite the final step .
The act of contrition .
There was a degree of satisfaction being penitent brought to him , and he couldn't help but smile as he left the confessional .
A frustrated deacon paced around the father's compound , running his hands through his hair , sighing every few seconds seemingly under a lot of stress.
He had just delivered the hymnal Bishop Lotus had sent him to fetch from where he had forgotten it ; the confessional . And was practically destroying his cuticles , deeply concerned about the sin , no crime , he had committed . He hadn't ment to freeze , to listen to that familiar smooth , adenoidal yet gravelly calming voice that seemed dismally mournful that particular day.
He wanted to stop him, to quiet him , but couldn't seem to find the words his head was screaming out.
One rule , one rule : he wasn't allowed to conduct confessions until his ordaining , and he had broken it . What was he to do? Who would help him? He had broken an extremely sacred rule , and the secrecy of the confession had to be prioritized . He had gotten himself in quit a pickle .
Though tactical , he had decided to come clean to the unknowing victim of his nosiness , and though not the best resolve , it was the only one .
And thus he started for the refrectory, where he knew the monks were required to be .
