A work of fiction by Charles Micheaux

All morning long I had this uneasy feeling and I felt sick to my stomach.
I sat quietly in the confession booth waiting for that broken heart and torn soul to come to me and confess their pains and sorrows.

Dred and forboding, the kind I have never experienced before was about me.
The evil energy that wisked into the confession booth was insatiably wicked and horrible.
I began to sweat heavily and the palms of my hands were wet too.

The dark soul sounded like a machine, you know like a computer generated voice; it was cold and unhuman.
A chill shot up my spine and I wanted to vomit.
This man, very evil was he, for he kept punching the left palm of his hand with his right fist making a terrible smacking sound.

This man, he spoke in a very low raspy whisper; he told me he had just killed his wife of three months and her two small children. I asked him why.
The man…he, he, ummmm, he, cursed GOD.
He cursed my GOD and then he pulled out a pistol and shot himself in the head.

I began to cough and then I fiund myself choking and I could not breath or see.
I felt satan pulling at me….I felt this ugly hatered, the hand of evil soaked in blood was pulling at me and my eyes were burning like someone had thrown acid in my pupils; it was excruciating pain.

I began to cry.

I shouted at the top of my lungs:

The doors of the confession booth blew off like someone had set off a high explosive.
When I awoke three days later they told me I had a heart attack and for the first time I realized what I heard off in the distance was a siren from the ambulance; the siren was for me.


You can watch my videos on YouTube: Charles Micheaux


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