Gray Cell Blue

by J.R. Carson

The cell was four foot by six foot, with a seven foot ceiling. It had been Chris’s home for over a year now, as he awaited his court-appointed fate. He sat on his thin bed, head in hands, with sweat shining on his forehead. A voice in his mind caught his attention.

“How are you holding up, Christopher?”

Chris turned to see that, rather than originating from his head, the voice belonged to Father Muldoon, now sitting beside Chris on the bed. His white clerical collar was missing and his top shirt button was undone. Father Muldoon wore a tweed sport jacket rather than his vestments. Even in his street clothes, the priest had an air of softness, congeniality. Chris shifted his weight a bit and answered.

“I’m alright, Father.” His voice cracked a bit. “Time’s getting short.” He looked back down at his feet.

“There’s still time,” Father Muldoon said, “for the sacrament of penance.”

“Confession? You want my confession?” Father Muldoon put a hand on Chris’s knee. Chris stood up and began to pace his small cell. “You know what happened. What do I need to confess to you for?”“Not to me, but to God.”

“Because He doesn’t know?”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)