"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
It's been three years since my last confession.
My sin is murder."
It was the toughest thing I had done in the three years since that awful night.
But it was time.
I could no longer carry the weight of what I had done and I had made the decision to
make things right, with both myself and with God.
"Please, tell me about your sins," the elderly and kind voice spoke to me through the partition.
I remembered back to my childhood and to the Sunday visits to our church, to how I couldn't
understand how my parents could sit there and listen to the preacher but ignore what
was taking place in his office.
They had to have known; parents are supposed to know when something is wrong with their
child, right?
But they hadn't, and the visits continued for many years.
It wasn't until my 14th birthday that the visits stopped.
The church said that the preacher had moved on to study in South America.
That he had wanted to thank the church members for listening and for our devotion to God,
and to apologize for leaving so quickly without goodbyes.
The more likely reason, though, was that the church had found out.
I took a deep breath.
"Three years ago I went to an antique store with my best friend Victor.
He was looking for something for his girlfriend's birthday.
Jackie always had a thing for old stuff.
We found this old travel trunk.
It was in decent shape, looked like it could have been from the early 1900s.
Brown leather, rounded top, brass hinges...the classic trunk look.
"Anyways, we brought it back to his house and as we carried it inside, it slipped and
hit the ground.
Surprisingly, it didn't cause much damage, but we did find that inside the trunk a hidden
compartment had popped open, and a small book had fallen out.
It was covered in what looked like human skin.
I don't really know, of course, but there was this...tattoo-like thing on the front."
The voice on the other side of partition made an "hmmm" sound and then the man asked, "Tell
me.
What did this tattoo look like?"
"Well, it's pretty worn down and old, but it looks kind of like the head of a goat,
only that the proportions are all wrong."
"I see," the man responded.
"We looked at the book, but it was in what looked like Latin, so we tossed it on the
coffee table and picked up the trunk again.
Victor and I got the trunk into his room and set it at the foot of their bed.
It was a perfect match to their place.
Like I said, Jackie had a real thing for old stuff.
Victor left to go pick her up from work, and I stayed at the house watching re-runs of
MacGyver.
"I started to think about the odd book and Google'd the writing.
It basically said that if you wrote a word on the bottom of the trunk, that every time
that word was said it would open a window to Hell.
Google's translation for Latin was a bit off, so I guessed that's what it said, anyways.
"I didn't believe in that type of thing three years ago.
I didn't even believe in God three years ago, to be honest..."
I paused in thought.
The man on the other side of partition took the moment to comment.
"We're all lucky that God believes in us, even when we don't believe in Him."
"Yeah, it took me a while to understand that," I replied.
"But I get it now.
Funny how we all have a plan and that sometimes that plan takes pain to get started."
"Yes.
Yes, it is.
Please, go on."
"Well, I took the book to Victor's room and opened the trunk.
There wasn't anything special about it.
The fabric was old like the trunk, maybe a bit off-color.
I think it used to be white, but it's now a yellowed tan.
"Something about the book spooked me a little; maybe it was the quiet house, I don't know.
But I decided that I would pick a word that wouldn't get used very often.
So I looked around the room.
Victor's girlfriend had this collection of porcelain birds on their dresser.
I'm sure they were all old as dirt, but I couldn't tell an old one from a new one if
you set them right next to each other.
"Anyways, one of the birds was this little swallow on a branch.
I decided that it would be a good word, and so I wrote "swallow" on the fabric at the
bottom of the trunk.
I closed the lid and said it."
A tear began to seep from my left eye as I recalled the night I lost my best friend and
his girlfriend.
"Something terrible happened, didn't it?"
the kind voice asked, pressing me to continue.
"Yes," I admitted.
"I closed the lid and said 'swallow.'
Then I heard this metallic scraping sound coming from the trunk.
The trunk began to vibrate and bounce.
And then there was this screaming...not just a single scream, but screams of pain, fear,
hate.
It was like someone had recorded all of the screams in the world and played them back
all at the same time."
I shuddered, still able to hear the sound in my head.
"You heard the sound of Hell," the priest said.
"Yes," I said.
"But I didn't open the trunk.
I was too scared.
For some reason, I said 'swallow' again -- and it stopped, as if nothing had happened.
At that point, I couldn't stand be in there with that trunk anymore, so I ran from the
house..."
The teardrops resting on my cheek multiplied and I began to sob in ernest.
"I should have stayed," I cried.
"It's my fault they're gone."
"Your actions are understandable," the priest said in an attempt to console me.
"Any man would be afraid of Hell, of undeniable proof that God exists.
Now, tell me -- what happened to Victor and Jackie?"
I collected myself and continued.
"Well, I came back later that night to warn them.
All of their rooms were dark except for their bedroom, and for some reason I decided to
look in through the window, which is not like me.
I'm not the type of guy that spies on people; I find that creepy, there was the trunk, and
I needed to know what was happening.
"They were having an argument about something.
They loved each other, but they when they had a fight, it was like like cats and dogs.
I never understood the term of 'love-hate relationship,' but them -- that's what they
had.
And this fight they were having was a good example.
As I watched, Victor grabbed Jackie by the shoulders and pushed her onto the bed in frustration.
"That's when Jackie got up and reached for the closest item she could find.
She was standing by the dresser and picked up one of her porcelain birds.
I cringed as she cocked back her arm and let the bird fly.
It hit the wall near Victor, missing his face by inches, and I watched as it exploded into
dozens of little white chunks.
I can remember seeing the dent in the wall after it hit.
I don't know how they managed to get out of their fights unscathed.
Guess it was always like that, always making a show, but never really crossing that line.
Like I said, it was a love-hate relationship.
"Anyway, I don't think Victor could have seen me even if he had looked out the window.
But from where I stood, I could see his lips moving as he yelled at her.
"'Nice move, Jackie!'
Victor screamed.
'I never liked those damn things anyways!
Don't stop with the swallow!
Throw another one, come on!'"
"I think I shrieked when the word came out of Victor's mouth.
Swallow.
Oh, how I wish he hadn't said 'swallow.'
It's such a random word -- I never thought he'd say it!
"I watched in horror as the trunk jumped and the lid flew open.
The screams seemed even louder, if that was possible.
It was deafening.
Victor and Jackie both stopped in mid-argument.
Jackie fled to the corner of the room by the headboard of the bed while Victor took a few
steps back.
"After several seconds, Victor edged towards the trunk to see.
I pounded on the window and tried to warn him, but it was too late.
This demon-like thing reached out of the trunk and grabbed Victor by the chest, ripping away
his shirt and leaving huge gashes.
There was blood everywhere.
Then the demon climbed out of the trunk and did this odd spider walk up the bed towards
Jackie.
I could tell she was screaming, but it was lost in the other screams.
Father, there was so much screaming.
So...much...screaming..."
I struggled to retain my composure.
Father nodded to signal that it was okay to continue.
"The rest is a blur.
Another demon climbed out, then another, and another, until there were at least eight in
the room, thrashing things.
Three of them fought over Victor's body, tearing it apart like a chunk of meat being devoured
by lions on a nature documentary.
Then they focused on Jackie, pinning her body to the bed.
I turned and ran before I saw what they did to her, but I can imagine.
"The next morning the street was blocked by police cars and news trucks.
They said that a sink hole had opened up under their bedroom, that both Victor and his girlfriend
were gone, likely buried under the rubble.
But I know what really happened.
"I found the trunk among the pile of ruble that had been piled on the street.
The lid was closed again and the screams had stopped, but I knew it was only a matter of
time before someone accidentally said 'swallow' and someone else would be dragged down to
Hell.
So I took it.
I intended to destroy it...at first."
The man behind the partition was quiet for a long time.
I almost thought that he had left while I was speaking.
Then he asked, "Where is the trunk now?"
In an instant, rather involuntarily, I smirked.
I couldn't help it.
"I placed it where it could do God's work," I said.
"The only place I could think of where it could do His work."
The priest was quiet.
"Please, Father," I asked, breaking the silence, "does Father Matthew McClaire still study
here?"
"Why, yes, he does," Father replied.
"You know him?
Perhaps a familiar face may aid you -- you've been through a lot.
"He holds private prayers with our youth during the afternoons, but for an old friend, I'm
sure could arrange a meeting."
"No," I said.
"It's been a long time since I was asked to pay a visit to Father McClaire.
I have a feeling God has other plans for him this day."
Suddenly, the church shook, and we heard the sounds of people -- millions of people -- screaming,
the sound coming from the office area of the church.
I crossed myself and said a prayer before I left the confession booth.
As I quickly made my way to the church's doors, the floor was already beginning to tilt towards
the sounds, and now there was a new sound with it; the sound of the demons rising to
swallow the evil that had brought them to the surface.
After hearing Hell and physically seeing demons, I truly believe.
I know that what happened to Victor and his girlfriend was accidental on my part, and
that what I did to Father McClaire was intentional, making it the mortal sin of murder...but I
think, I hope, in this case, that he'll make an exception.