Shadows of lonely pews dance like fanged monsters across the cathedral walls in the distorted light of a dying candle. A gray haired priest stoops at the church altar, his face wet with tears and sweat after hours of repeating his agonizing mantra.
“Father, help me . . . Father, forgive me . . .” Staring at the ghostly statue of a crucified Christ, he rubs his Rosary beads endlessly as blood stains his fingertips.
He knows what he did and he knows there is no redemption for it. No matter how long he prays or how much he begs, he knows he is going to hell.
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