Violet Hour

Father forgive me for i have sinned" The words flowed out of my mouth. Easily, smoothly. I kneel before him, my hand placed in his. His kissed softly, i walked into my confession box. The ancient box, the wood distinctively carved. I sat down.

"My son what do you have to confess today" He asked him. His voice, aged and horse but still soft.

"I came not to confess, but be saved" I told him. My hands overcoming my face, the shame, embarrassment confessions box. I made sure my feet kept moving but they stopped. With one single call.

"Saved from what" He asked. I could imagine his wrinkled forehead creasing.

"Saved from myself" I told him. My voice stood firm, edged. I burst out of the wooden confession box. I had to what i had to do, whether or not god would forgive me.

"My son" He said, i did not turn around. But held my position.

"The lord shall forgive those who have wronged, or will wrong" He said, his wise words seeping into be but as always coming the other side.

"And he shall damned all those who do wrong again and again" I told back to him. My father being as ruthless as he is always made sure that he had god by his side. And made sure i also had god by my side. I knew these wise words they were used right after every sermon of Sundays church service.